Archive of Our Own

The apartment was quiet again.

That familiar, anticipatory silence settled the second Wooyoung heard the front door click shut. San had left, just like he always did on Friday nights—out with friends, probably gaming or grabbing drinks with Mingi and Yunho. He wouldn’t be back for hours.

Perfect.

Wooyoung double-checked the lock, then padded back into his room, tossing his oversized hoodie off onto the desk chair. Underneath, he was already dressed—just a loose tank top and his favorite pair of black boxers. The tight ones. The ones the fans always begged for a glimpse of even though his streams were voice-only.

That was the fun part.

They didn’t know what he looked like. Didn’t know his name. All they had was a mic, his voice, and the sultry little sighs he gave them when he teased himself, whispered filthy things like it was just for them.

Only San didn’t know either. And that was... kind of the whole problem.

If San ever found out, Wooyoung would actually melt into the floor from shame and die. Which is why he was careful. So, so careful.

He lowered the blinds, plugged in the mic, and logged into the private server. The chat was already filling.

[User123]: he’s online omg
[VoiceWhore]: finally been waiting all day
[PinkThirst]: is tonight the night u moan for us again 🥺👉👈

Wooyoung smirked.

“Missed me, didn’t you?” he purred into the mic, voice dropping to that low rasp that made his subscribers go feral . “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

He dragged a hand slowly down his chest, just enough pressure to feel the heat build. His breath hitched—soft, but deliberate. “Should I touch myself tonight? Or do you want me to beg first?”

The chat exploded . Tips started pouring in. Wooyoung bit back a grin.

His fingers trailed lightly down his abdomen, playing with the hem of his boxers. The sensation wasn’t even that intense yet—barely a ghost of pressure—but he knew exactly how to breathe, how to sound like it was. A long, drawn-out inhale. A gentle exhale, broken slightly like he was trying to hold back.

“Fuck,” he whispered, lips brushing the mic. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. About how good it feels when I finally get to let go.”

The screen flooded with emojis. Hearts. Drooling faces. Requests. Desperate tips to hear more.

He leaned back in his chair, adjusting the mic just slightly so it picked up everything . One hand slipped between his thighs, squeezing—not enough, just enough to tease. 

"You want to know what I'm wearing, don't you?"

A pause. He let the silence linger, only the sound of his soft breathing filling the space.

"Just some tight little boxers,” he added with a quiet laugh, a breathy exhale that sent the chat into a spiral . “They keep brushing right against me every time I move. Drives me crazy."

And god, he was getting hard. Not just from the touches—but from the power of it. The thrill. The anonymity. The secret of it all.

His voice dropped even lower.

“Sometimes,” he said slowly, like it was a confession, “I think about someone I shouldn’t.”

He let that hang in the air.

“I think about what it would feel like if he touched me. Pinned me down, made me beg. I think he’d be rough. Sweet, but mean about it. Like he knows I want it too much.”

The fingers under his waistband pressed down. A real moan slipped out, one he didn’t bother to fake.

“Shit… yeah. Right there. Feels so—”

Click.

A soft sound behind the door. So quiet it could’ve been the wind.

But Wooyoung didn’t notice. Not yet.

He was too far gone, too wrapped up in the illusion, the arousal, the fantasy of a boy he could never have. A boy who was—unknown to him—standing frozen in the hallway now, just beyond the crack of his bedroom door, blinking like he’d been slapped.

Choi San’s mouth parted. His heart was pounding .

He really was only gone five minutes.

San had made it halfway to the train station when he realized—wallet? Not in his pocket. No train ticket. No ID. No nothing.

Typical.

He was already cursing under his breath by the time he unlocked the door again, slipping inside quietly so he wouldn’t startle Wooyoung if he was napping. The apartment was dim, quiet. He kicked off his shoes, ready to snatch his wallet from the kitchen counter and bounce.

Until he heard it.

A voice.

Wooyoung’s voice.

Low, sultry—dripping with something San had never heard from him before. His head snapped toward the hallway, heart skipping a beat. Wooyoung’s door was slightly ajar. A faint glow from his monitor spilled out in soft, flickering blues and purples, casting a sliver of light onto the hallway floor.

And then he heard it again.

"—I think about someone I shouldn’t."

San froze.

The voice was unmistakable. That breathy tone, that teasing rasp—it was Wooyoung . His Wooyoung. But not like this. Not the guy who stole his hoodies and nagged him about doing the dishes. This was someone else entirely. Confident. Dirty. Dangerous.

He didn’t mean to get closer, but his feet moved anyway. Slowly. Silently. The wallet could wait.

"I think about what it would feel like if he touched me. Pinned me down, made me beg."

San’s breath caught in his throat.

He blinked, trying to make sense of the scene beyond the crack of the door. He could only see so much—just Wooyoung’s bare legs, one pulled up slightly on his desk chair, the way his boxers clung to his thighs. His hand was between them, moving slowly. His other hand was on the mic, holding it like a lifeline.

The moan that followed nearly broke San.

Real. Soft. Desperate.

San’s mouth went dry. His fingers twitched at his side.

What the fuck was this? Why had Wooyoung never told him? Why did this feel so intimate —like he was seeing something he was never supposed to see?

And then…

"I think he’d be rough. Sweet, but mean about it. Like he knows I want it too much."

San’s chest squeezed.

Who was he talking about?

Some guy? A boyfriend ? A secret lover he’d never told San about? The idea made something bitter rise in his throat. Wooyoung didn’t talk like this to anyone , especially not someone he didn’t trust. Especially not with that kind of emotion, that kind of raw need.

And the way he said “he” …

Was it someone specific?

San felt the jealousy hit him before he could stop it. Sharp. Stupid. Possessive in a way that made no sense. 

It’s not your business. He’s allowed to like whoever he wants. You’re just his roommate. His best friend. That’s all you’ll ever be—

But still.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Could only stand there, heat rising in his chest and spreading everywhere , while the boy he’d grown up with—his best friend—breathed soft and filthy into a mic, thinking about someone who wasn’t him .

At least… he didn’t think it was him.

God, he hoped it was.

And he should’ve walked away.

He should’ve grabbed his wallet, shut the door, and gone out with his friends like nothing happened.

But his feet wouldn’t move.

Wooyoung’s voice dragged him in like a fucking siren—low and wrecked and so needy . San had never heard anything like it. Not from him. Not from anyone .

And then came the next line. Quiet. Whispered.

"Wish it was his hand instead of mine."

San’s heart stopped .

He couldn’t see anymore from where he stood, not unless he leaned back in—but the image was already burned into his skull. Wooyoung spread out in that chair, legs loose, hand between them, stroking slow like he had all the time in the world. His mouth parted. His throat bare. That damned microphone catching every breath, every moan.

The sound of slick movement started. Faint, wet, fucking devastating.

San backed away.

Not out of shame. No. Out of desperation . He pressed his back against the wall just outside the doorframe, his chest rising and falling way too fast. His hand drifted to his waistband before he could stop it, fingers shaking as they slipped underneath.

He was already hard.

He hissed through his teeth, head thudding back against the wall.

"Feels so fucking good tonight," Wooyoung whispered, followed by a little gasp, a breathy whimper that made San tremble . 

“I think he’d touch me like this. Maybe a little rougher. Maybe he’d grip my hips and just use me .”

San’s grip tightened around himself.

What the fuck was happening?

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be doing this. But every time Wooyoung moaned, every time he whispered another filthy little fantasy into that mic, San could see it. Feel it. Could imagine exactly how his mouth would look gasping his name.

Except it wasn’t his name Wooyoung said.

"You’d like that, right? If I begged for you? I would."

San let out a silent groan, lips pressed tightly shut. His strokes were slow—torturous—his cock straining in his palm as he bit down on every noise threatening to escape. He couldn’t get caught. Not now. Not like this.

But he was losing it .

His head tilted back. He pictured Wooyoung just feet away, thighs spread, cheeks flushed, leaking, moaning for some faceless he —some lucky bastard who didn’t even know the effect he had.

It burned.

It thrilled.

It fucking wrecked him.

And still, he didn’t stop.

His hand moved faster now. Shame long gone. Replaced by heat. By the growing pressure building in his gut with every breathy sound Wooyoung made from the other side of the door.

He was close.

So close he could barely think, could barely breathe. 

"Feels so good," Wooyoung gasped, voice cracking in that way that drove San insane . "Fuck—wish it was him. Wish he'd just take me already. I’d let him. I’d let him do anything."

San choked .

That was it. That was the end of him.

His body tensed. His hand jerked one last time before he came—hot and sudden—hips rocking, breath catching painfully in his throat. 

He spilled into his palm, his boxers, his sanity. Gone. All of it.

And on the other side of the door, as if perfectly timed , Wooyoung cried out too.

A wrecked, needy moan—so pretty it made San ache . His name wasn’t spoken, but it didn’t matter.

In that moment, it felt like they were connected by some invisible, electric string. Breathing heavy. Bodies trembling. Chests heaving like they’d just sprinted through hell.

Silence settled.

Only their ragged breaths filled the apartment.

San’s eyes were still wide, lips parted, hand still tucked into his now ruined boxers. He was trying to catch his breath. Trying to get himself together. He needed to leave. Needed to wipe his hand, fix his pants, and walk out like this never happened—

Then he heard it.

That voice.

The one that had just moaned into a mic not thirty seconds ago.

But this time, it wasn’t for the stream.

"How long are you gonna stand there like I didn’t know you were watching?"

San froze .

His entire soul left his body.

His head snapped toward the door, eyes wide. And then— slowly —he turned back toward the crack in the frame. Wooyoung’s chair had shifted.

And he was looking directly at him .

Disheveled. Flushed. Sweat glistening at his collarbone. One hand still resting lazily on his thigh. The other gripping the mic. His voice, when he spoke again, was hoarse—but smug.

"You really thought I couldn’t hear you?"

San didn’t answer. Wooyoung was still watching him.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

San blinked. Still catching his breath. Still half-hard and sticky and wrecked in every way possible. “You—You knew?”

Wooyoung tilted his head. “Of course I knew.”

That smug smile curled at the corner of his mouth, but the tips of his ears were pink. He was flustered. Just barely. But it was there.

“You’re not exactly stealthy,” he added, with an infuriating little lilt.

San finally stepped forward, slow and hesitant, pushing the door open the rest of the way. Wooyoung didn’t move—he just watched. Like a cat cornering its prey.

His mic was muted now. San noticed that first. The chat still buzzed on screen, desperate and impatient—but they weren’t listening anymore. No one was.

Wooyoung finally looked away, the weight of San’s stare pressing too heavy on his skin. He shifted in his chair, legs adjusting, arms crossing over his chest like he could protect what little dignity he had left. 

But it was kind of hard to act unaffected when you were sitting there still slightly leaking and half-dressed, caught red-handed with your hand between your thighs.

San glanced around the room—then back at him. “So…” he said, voice rougher than before. “This is how you make all your money.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but it lacked bite. “Oh, what, now you’re gonna judge me?”

“I’m not judging,” San said quickly. “Just… making the math make sense. The new headphones. That ridiculously expensive skincare set. The designer boots you swore were a gift from a sponsor.”

“Technically, the fans are sponsoring me,” Wooyoung muttered, a little less smug now.

San huffed a soft laugh.

Then Wooyoung’s eyes flicked up again. That sharp glint returned, just a little. 

“Okay, then your turn,” he said. “What the hell were you doing standing there with your hand down your pants? Thought you were going out with Mingi and Yunho.”

“I was,” San said, and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “I forgot my wallet.”

Wooyoung blinked. “You forgot your wallet.”

“Yep.”

“And that’s how you found out your best friend jerks off for strangers on the internet.”

“…Yeah.”

The silence that followed was the kind that made your ears ring.

Wooyoung slumped back in his chair with a groan and dragged both hands over his face. “ Of course . I get exposed over a fucking wallet.”

San didn’t say anything for a second. Just stood there, watching him quietly, the edges of his mouth twitching like he was holding something back.

Wooyoung peeked at him between his fingers. “Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“You were.”

San shrugged.

“…Fine,” Wooyoung snapped, sitting up straighter, though his face was still red as hell. 

“Forget it. Forget you saw anything. Or heard anything. Please. Let’s both just black it out and never talk about it again.”

But San didn’t agree. He didn’t nod or awkwardly change the subject. He just tilted his head slightly and said, calm as ever:

“Kinda hard to forget.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught.

“What—” he blinked, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

San gave a slow smile. Not cocky. Not mocking. Just… honest.

“You sounded…” His eyes dropped, almost shyly. “Hot.”

Wooyoung froze .

His entire brain stuttered. Every neuron short-circuited. 

“I—wha— you— ” He slapped a hand over his mouth as if to physically hold back the squeak he just made. His cheeks went bright pink . “You are not allowed to say that to me right now!”

San raised a brow, a little smug now. “Why not?”

“Because! Because I’m already on the verge of dying from shame and you just— you liked it?! ”

“Didn’t say that,” San said, though his smirk said otherwise. “Just said it was hot.”

“That’s worse!”

Wooyoung whipped his face away, burying it into his hands again, groaning into his palms like he could disappear into the floor. His ears were glowing. “I’m gonna throw myself out the window.”

“You really don’t have to. It was…” San trailed off, voice a little more serious this time. “…It was kind of amazing.”

Wooyoung slowly lowered his hands again. His eyes met San’s—and for a second, he stopped breathing.

There was no teasing now. Not in San’s face. Not in his voice.

Just something else . Something heavy. Warm. Real.

Wooyoung was still burning. He could feel the flush creeping all the way down his neck, spreading to his chest, his ears—everywhere.

And then San moved.

Slow, steady steps. 

Like he wasn’t just walking toward Wooyoung—but toward every truth they’d been avoiding for years . Wooyoung’s breath hitched. He gripped the armrest tightly, eyes flicking up, then away, then up again as San came to a stop in front of him.

“I’m gonna say something now,” San said quietly. “And don’t you dare interrupt me.”

Wooyoung blinked. “Wha—”

“I know you like to talk, but just— listen to me for once.”

That shut him up real quick.

San took a breath. Deep. Measured. Like he was steadying himself on the edge of a cliff.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Wooyoung. Since—god, probably since we were stupid kids. I thought it would go away. I told myself it was just because we were close. That I was just… confused. That I was projecting.”

He looked down at him now, eyes dark and steady.

“But then I watched you fall apart in front of that mic. I heard you moan. I saw you, touching yourself , thinking about someone you couldn’t have. And I realized—” he exhaled, voice softer now, “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Wooyoung’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because San was leaning closer now— so close. Their lips were inches apart.

San’s voice dropped, rough and raw.

“I was jealous,” he murmured. “Of whoever it was. The guy you were thinking about while you were moaning like that.”

Wooyoung’s whole face scrunched up, caught between panic and exasperation and full-body yearning. “San—wait, I was literally—”

But he didn’t get the chance to finish.

Because San kissed him.

Not rushed. Not clumsy. But sure . Firm. Warm. A slow press of lips that made Wooyoung’s brain blank out entirely . 

Wooyoung… he melted .

The second their mouths met, he stopped thinking.

Everything—embarrassment, shame, panic—evaporated under the heat of San’s kiss. His fingers curled into San’s hoodie, tugging him closer, kissing him back with an urgency he hadn’t even known he was holding in.

Then San pulled back just slightly, breath hot against his cheek. “Up.”

“Huh—?”

San’s hands gripped Wooyoung’s waist, pushing him up from the chair until he was standing. Wooyoung stumbled a little, dazed, blinking up at him—but the next kiss knocked the air from his lungs.

This one was rougher. Messier. Mouths parting, teeth grazing. San tilted his head just enough to deepen it, one hand slipping beneath the fabric of Wooyoung’s tank top to touch bare skin, the other tangled in the back of his hair.

Wooyoung whimpered— actually whimpered —and gripped San’s shoulders like they were the only thing keeping him upright.

They kissed again. And again.

Soft moans tangled between them. Fingers pulled at clothes. San’s hoodie was long gone, and Wooyoung’s tank top had ridden halfway up his stomach. 

The muted light from the monitor cast their shadows across the wall as Wooyoung broke the kiss for just a second to murmur, breathless:

“Bed. Go.”

San nodded once, dazed. He let Wooyoung grab his wrist and drag him the few steps across the room, bumping into furniture along the way in their rush. The second they reached the edge of the mattress, Wooyoung turned, eyes dark, lips swollen, chest heaving.

Then he pushed San down.

San landed on the bed with a soft grunt, eyes wide—but not for long.

Because Wooyoung climbed right into his lap.

Straddling him. Knees on either side. San’s hands instinctively flew to Wooyoung’s hips, gripping tight as he looked up at him.

“Still jealous?” Wooyoung teased, voice husky, lips brushing San’s as he spoke.

San groaned. “You have no idea.”

And then they were kissing again—hot, frantic, bodies flush, hands everywhere.

San’s fingers dug into Wooyoung’s thighs as their hips rocked together slowly. Wooyoung was grinding down now, still in those thin black boxers, and San could feel the heat of him through the fabric, could hear the soft gasps between their mouths every time they moved.

Wooyoung’s lips moved down to his jaw. His throat. He sucked a mark there— on purpose —just to hear San curse and pull him closer.

They didn’t care about the stream anymore.

Because Wooyoung was grinding down on him now, slow and teasing, his lips dragging along San’s jaw while their breath tangled between them. 

The heat between their bodies was insane , fabric rubbing against swollen skin, sweat starting to gather at their temples—and still, neither of them wanted to rush it.

Well.

San was trying not to.

He let his hands roam slowly up Wooyoung’s back, feeling the soft dip of his spine beneath his tank top. Wooyoung’s hips rolled again— deliberately slow —and San groaned, head tilting back against the pillows.

“Woo,” he rasped, voice thick, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “Wait.”

Wooyoung blinked, lips pink and parted. “What?”

San met his gaze, dead serious now despite how fucked out he looked. His hands held Wooyoung’s waist gently, grounding them both.

“I need to ask,” he said quietly. “Do you want this? This —me. All of it.”

Wooyoung stared at him for a long second.

His heart pounded in his chest like it wanted to break free. He could still taste San’s kiss on his lips. His thighs were trembling from how hard he was grinding down seconds ago. And still—he melted.

Because of course San would ask.

Gentle. Steady. No matter how much he wanted it, he still wanted to hear the yes .

Wooyoung leaned in, forehead brushing against his.

His voice came out soft. Sure. A little breathless.

“Yes, San.”

San’s breath caught.

But Wooyoung wasn’t done.

“I want this,” he whispered, “I want you. I’ve wanted you for so fucking long —please don’t make me beg for it.”

San’s restraint snapped .

His fingers dug into Wooyoung’s waist as he flipped them suddenly, pinning Wooyoung down to the mattress with a strength he’d been holding back this whole time. 

Wooyoung gasped, wide-eyed beneath him, but the smirk curled on his lips almost immediately.

“About time,” he whispered.

San kissed him again—deep, bruising, like he was making up for every second they’d wasted pretending. Wooyoung’s tank top was bunched up under his arms now, exposing flushed skin that San kissed down over and over, his hands roaming slowly—like he wanted to memorize every inch.

By the time San’s lips reached his lower stomach, Wooyoung was already squirming, his boxers soaked from earlier, sticking to his skin. San looked up through his lashes as he hooked a finger under the waistband.

“Can I take these off?”

Wooyoung nodded quickly, breath shallow. “Please.”

San peeled the fabric down slowly, watching the way Wooyoung’s spent cock twitched a little from the sudden exposure. His thighs parted instinctively, welcoming him in.

And there—between his cheeks, San spotted the slick trail that had leaked out from earlier. Leftover from Wooyoung’s solo show, glistening faintly in the low light.

He let out a quiet, wrecked sound.

Then dipped his fingers down and gently gathered it up.

Wooyoung gasped, hips twitching.

“Fuck,” San murmured, “you’re so messy already.”

“Shut up,” Wooyoung whined, turning his face into the pillow, but his body arched toward the touch, like it needed more. “You’re the one who made me like that.”

San chuckled under his breath—but there was awe in his expression too, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. That Wooyoung was spread out for him like this, flushed and leaking and needy.

His fingers trailed lower again. Slowly. Carefully.

He let the cum-slick pads of two fingers circle gently around Wooyoung’s rim, spreading the wetness, watching him shiver under the touch.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched. His thighs trembled.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice going high and breathy. “Feels good…”

San hummed low in his throat. “Yeah?”

He pressed in just a little, not breaching him yet—just enough to tease. To feel the way Wooyoung’s body fluttered around the touch, greedy and warm and aching.

“You were thinking about this, weren’t you?” San said softly, leaning closer, lips brushing Wooyoung’s ear. “When you were touching yourself earlier… you were thinking about me.”

Wooyoung let out a broken moan, hips rolling down against his fingers. “Yes—yes, San, I was—fuck, I wanted this so bad— ”

San slowly pushed one finger in.

Wooyoung arched, breath catching with a quiet whimper.

“Good?” San whispered.

“ More. ”

San took his time.

Every little sound Wooyoung made, every twitch of his thighs, every arch of his back—it was all burned into San’s brain now, carved into the backs of his eyelids. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

His finger slid deeper, slow and steady, while his other hand stroked lightly up Wooyoung’s side, grounding him, soothing him. Wooyoung whimpered softly into the pillow, hips rocking to meet the movement.

“You’re doing so good,” San murmured. “Taking it so well already.”

“Need more,” Wooyoung breathed, already chasing every touch. “You can give me more, c’mon…”

San chuckled quietly— wrecked , but still trying to stay gentle. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Yes, I do,” Wooyoung shot back, breathless and bratty. “Been thinking about it for years, I know exactly what I want.”

San bit back a groan. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He added a second finger, and this time, Wooyoung’s back arched off the bed.

“ Fuck— ” he gasped, legs spreading wider, like his body was desperate to be filled. San curled his fingers just right, watching the way Wooyoung trembled, the way his toes curled against the sheets.

“You’re so sensitive,” San whispered, kissing down his thigh. “You really needed this, didn’t you?”

“ San, ” Wooyoung moaned, hips pushing back. “If you don’t get inside me in the next ten seconds —”

“Alright,” San said, voice thick, “alright.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, both of them panting now, the air hot and heavy between them. San reached for the lube on Wooyoung’s nightstand—because of course he had lube there—and slicked himself up, hissing softly at the first touch.

Wooyoung turned his head just enough to watch, eyes dark and hazy. “You’re seriously the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

San leaned down, lined himself up, and brushed a soft kiss over Wooyoung’s cheek.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” Wooyoung whispered. “I want you.”

San pushed in slowly.

The stretch made Wooyoung’s lips part in a silent gasp, fingers clutching the sheets beneath him. Inch by inch, San sank in, groaning under his breath as the heat wrapped around him, tight and perfect.

Wooyoung whimpered. “ Yes… yes… fuck, San— ”

“You feel so good,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect.”

Wooyoung let out a soft laugh, wrecked and teary-eyed. “Told you… been waiting for this…”

San stayed still for just a moment, buried to the hilt, breathing through his nose like he was trying so hard not to lose control. His forehead rested against Wooyoung’s as their chests rose and fell together, slick skin brushing, sweat already gathering at their brows.

Wooyoung clutched at San’s back, lips trembling.

“You okay?” San whispered, voice tight.

Wooyoung let out a breathy laugh, eyes fluttering open. “Yeah. More than okay. Please move.”

San pulled back slowly, hips rolling with a deep, controlled rhythm—just enough to feel everything.

Wooyoung gasped, head falling back against the pillow. “Fuuuck…”

San watched him. Watched every little twitch of his mouth, the way his brows pinched when the drag hit just right.

He thrust again—slow, deep, perfect.

Wooyoung’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, heels pressing into San’s lower back. His hands gripped at San’s arms, then his shoulders, like he didn’t know where to hold on because everything felt too good .

San leaned down, capturing Wooyoung’s lips again in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and breathless noise.

And then—he shifted.

One of San’s hands slid under Wooyoung’s thigh, lifting it up slightly, hooking it over his shoulder. The angle changed instantly.

“ Fuck—San! ”

San groaned, hips snapping forward harder now, chasing that perfect spot. Wooyoung’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, fingers scrambling at the sheets.

“There?” San panted, fucking into him harder now, deeper.

“ Yes—right there, please—don’t stop— ”

San didn’t.

His thrusts built steadily—slow at first, rolling, then faster, sharper. Wooyoung’s body rocked beneath him with every movement, gasps breaking from his lips like prayers, like curses, like he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

San kept one hand gripping under his thigh, using it for leverage while his other palm pressed beside Wooyoung’s head, grounding himself. 

Their skin slapped, their chests stuck together with sweat, and neither of them could stop moaning now.

“You’re so—so fucking tight,” San groaned. “You feel unreal.”

Wooyoung whined, clinging to him. “It’s only ever been you.”

That made San lose it .

He fucked him harder now, rougher—but still so controlled, still so intentional . Every thrust angled to drive Wooyoung wild. 

San leaned in again, panting against his lips. “Say it again.”

“ You— ” Wooyoung gasped, arching up into him, “It’s only ever been you, San— fuck, I’m so close—”

“Yeah?” San whispered, fucking him through it, the bed creaking under them now. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

And Wooyoung did.

With a broken moan, he came— hard —between them, his cock twitching as thick streaks spilled across his stomach, smearing between their bodies as San kept fucking him through it. His back arched off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry, fingers spasming where they held San close.

San lost it .

The second he felt Wooyoung clench around him—tight, fluttering, warm—his rhythm faltered, a groan ripped from his throat as he buried himself deep one last time.

“ Fuck— ” he choked, head dropping into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck as he came inside him, pulsing hard, his entire body trembling from the release.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Still moving just slightly—hips twitching, bodies slick with sweat, panting into each other’s skin. San’s arms slowly loosened their grip, his hand sliding from Wooyoung’s thigh to his waist, holding him gently now.

Wooyoung was still catching his breath, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, his lips swollen and pink. He blinked slowly, like he’d just woken up from the best dream of his life.

“…Holy shit,” he whispered.

San let out a soft, breathless laugh against his neck. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

They lay there for a while.

Chest to chest. Skin sticky with sweat and cum. San still inside him, their breaths syncing slowly as the high gave way to a glowing, heavy warmth.

Neither of them said anything at first.

San’s hand slowly traced soft circles into Wooyoung’s lower back. Wooyoung blinked at the ceiling, his fingers tangled loosely in San’s hair.

Then:

“…So.”

San grunted softly. “So.”

Wooyoung turned his head, just enough to look at him.

“We just… fucked.”

San’s eyes met his. “We did.”

Wooyoung gave a small, dazed laugh. “I think I liked it.”

San smiled, lips brushing his collarbone. “I know I did.”

They both laughed—soft and breathless and a little what just happened?! —until San finally shifted, groaning as he carefully pulled out. Wooyoung winced slightly, biting his lip.

“I’m gonna feel that tomorrow.”

“ You’re gonna feel it?” San muttered, flopping beside him, eyes half-lidded. “My soul left my body halfway through.”

Wooyoung rolled onto his side with a tired grin, then groaned dramatically. “Okay. I gotta check my stream.”

San blinked. “Wait— you never turned it off?! ”

“No, I muted it when you walked in, I’m not a complete amateur,” Wooyoung huffed. “But—ugh—god, my legs.”

He pushed himself off the bed, only to immediately wobble. His knees buckled a little and he had to grab the wall.

“…Shit.”

San sat up, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Need help walking, old man?”

“ Shut up, ” Wooyoung snapped, cheeks pink again, “you’re the one who rearranged my spine.”

He made it to the desk—barely—flopping into his chair with a dramatic sigh, head tilted back like he just ran a marathon. He blinked at the screen.

The mic was still muted. Chat was going feral .

[VoiceWhore]: he’s been gone for like 15 min what the hell 😭
[moans4u]: BRO DID HE FALL ASLEEP
[user8675309]: HELLO???
[PervDaddy]: if you’re gonna edge us like that at least say smth 😩
[spicyprince]: maybe someone walked in on him??? 👀
[sugarslut69]: stream muted but we’re watching… 👀🫢👀🫢👀🫢

Wooyoung stared at the screen in horror. “Oh my god. ”

“What?” San asked from the bed.

“They think I got kidnapped. Or laid. Or both.”

“Well… they’re not wrong.”

“San!”

Wooyoung reached to turn the stream off, but not before quickly typing into chat:

[streamer]: brb guys!! got a little… distracted 💕

He cut the feed with shaking fingers, then covered his face in both hands.

San’s voice drifted from behind him, smug and satisfied: “So… when’s your next stream?”

Wooyoung peeked between his fingers, half-flustered, half-smirking. “Whenever you leave the apartment again.”

San was already getting up.

He leaned against the back of the chair, lips brushing the shell of Wooyoung’s ear as he spoke—low, playful, and a little too casual:

“Well now that I know… you don’t have to do it only when I leave the apartment, y’know.”

Wooyoung froze .

His brain short-circuited for a second. Just a full reboot. He slowly lowered his hands from his face, turning to look up at San with wide eyes.

“You mean—like…”

San met his gaze, that infuriatingly calm smile still tugging at his lips.

“I mean,” he said, tilting Wooyoung’s chin up slightly with two fingers, “you don’t have to hide it anymore. If you wanna stream with me home… or watching …” He raised a brow. “That’s up to you.”

Wooyoung blinked. “ Watching? ”

San shrugged, like he hadn’t just shattered his entire existence. “I mean, if you’re comfortable with it. I’ve seen you already,” He leaned in, voice dipping. “Pretty sure I’m a fan now.”

Wooyoung turned bright red . “Oh my god .”

San chuckled, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. “You don’t have to answer now.”

“Good, because I need several years.”

Three days later...

Turns out, Wooyoung did not need several years.

Not even several days, really.

Just a bit of pacing. Some overthinking. And exactly one night of waking up drenched in sweat after a dream about San watching him stream—with his hand down his pants and his eyes dark and hungry .

And now here he was. Standing at the door to San’s room with his arms crossed and a very, very specific look in his eyes.

San had his headset on, gaming in the dim glow of his monitor, half-lounging in his desk chair, legs spread. He looked up when he noticed Wooyoung.

“Yo,” he said, pulling off one side of the headset. “What’s up?”

“…Are you gaming alone?” Wooyoung asked carefully, shifting his weight between his feet.

San blinked. “Huh?”

“Like. Are you alone in the party? Or with Yunho?”

San tilted his head. “I’m alone. Why?”

Wooyoung exhaled, quick and quiet.

Then licked his lips.

“I want to stream.”

San’s fingers paused on the mouse.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then froze .

“Oh.”

Wooyoung shrugged one shoulder, trying way too hard to act casual. “Just felt like it tonight.”

San didn’t say anything for a second. He just… stared. And then reached up to pull the headset off fully, letting it hang around his neck. His voice dropped—steady, even.

“Okay.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lifted. “Okay?”

San nodded, slow. “Go on.”

And fuck —the look he gave Wooyoung then? It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t mocking.

It was curious . Warm. Starving.

And so, so ready.

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat.

“…You can come and watch. If you want.”

San’s lips curved into a slow smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

Wooyoung stared at his bedroom ceiling now, fully naked from the waist down, legs spread as he arranged his setup. “What the fuck does I’ll think about it even mean?” he muttered.

His sweatpants and briefs lay crumpled at the foot of his bed. His mic muted for now. Toys were laid out neatly on a small towel by the bedside: two plugs of different sizes, a slender vibrating wand, and his favorite dildo—the one with the slight curve that always made him see stars. The lube bottle was already open, ready to go.

The air in the room was warm with anticipation.

And irritation.

Because San was still gaming . Just one room over. Like he didn’t just give Wooyoung permission to do something so insanely filthy while he was home and then act like it was no big deal.

“Oh, I’ll think about it,” Wooyoung mocked under his breath. “Ugh. What are you, a cryptic love interest from a 2014 anime?”

The truth was, he wanted San to come in.

Wanted him to see what he did to him. Wanted him to hear the way he moaned— the way he’d moaned for him before even realizing it . The toys weren’t for the audience. Not really. They were for him .

For San.

But still—he hadn’t come in.

Wooyoung glared at the wall that separated their rooms. “Coward.”

He stood up from the edge of the bed, and rolled his eyes dramatically at the wall once more. He chose the small plug first—sleek, black, with just the right weight to it—and grabbed the lube bottle.

“If he’s not gonna watch,” he muttered under his breath, “then he’s gonna listen. ”

He returned to his chair with slow, practiced confidence, the soft click of the lube cap echoing in the room as he placed everything within reach. Then he rolled his shoulders, sat back in the chair, and clicked unmute.

The chat immediately exploded.

[PervDaddy]: HE’S BACKKKK 😩
[moans4u]: what’s tonight’s agenda 😭

Wooyoung grinned, running a hand through his hair as he leaned toward the mic, voice slipping into that delicious, low rasp.

“Hey babies,” he purred. “Missed me?”

More emojis. More begging. More chaos.

“Well,” he continued, fingers grazing his inner thigh, “I figured I’d treat you to something a little special tonight. Thought I’d play with a few toys. Just for you.”

He reached down, slowly spreading some lube across the plug with deliberate, teasing strokes—making sure the mic caught the faint, wet sounds. His other hand stayed on the desk, fingers curled slightly like he was already getting impatient.

“But before we start,” he said with a little sigh, “can I vent for like… thirty seconds?”

[spicyprince]: yesss we love hot man gossip
[VoiceWhore]: always babe
[simpboy420]: talk ur shit 👏

Wooyoung leaned back, legs parted slightly, voice dipping into that bratty tone—sweet but sharp.

“There’s this guy,” he said, dragging the plug lightly over the inside of his thigh, not pressing in yet. “And he’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

He paused, smirking.

“I asked him if he wanted to watch me stream today. He just said ‘I’ll think about it’ and then left me hanging. Like—what does that even mean? You gonna watch me or not, you coward.”

The chat lost it.

[PervDaddy]: NOT THE COWARD COMMENT LMAO
[moans4u]: girl drop his @ rn
[spicyprince]: sounds like u want him BADDDD 😏

Wooyoung just sighed dramatically, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“I mean… yeah,” he murmured, fingers ghosting over his entrance. “Maybe I do. Maybe I wanted him to come in and wreck me. Maybe I set this whole thing up hoping he’d be curious enough to stop pretending he’s not interested.”

His breathing was already picking up now, thighs tensing, the cool lube slick against his skin.

“But I guess I’ll just do it myself,” he whispered. “Since someone decided to stay in his room and pretend he’s not listening.”

Wooyoung exhaled softly, the tip of the plug pressing against his rim now—cool, slick, teasing. He tilted his hips forward slightly in the chair, legs parted, breath hitching just loud enough to spike the mic.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice cracking just a little. “...missed this.”

The chat exploded again.

[moans4u]: OMG OMG HE’S STARTING
[VoiceWhore]: his voice rn is sending me to heaven
[PervDaddy]: did someone turn up the mic gain or is it just me 😭
[streammod_69]: he sounds extra desperate tonight 👀

Wooyoung smirked, letting out a quiet little gasp as he slowly began easing the plug in further, inch by inch. His legs trembled faintly as his body adjusted, the slick slide drawing a soft moan from his lips—just breathy enough to feel real. Because it was.

He bit his lip, not bothering to hold back the next one.

“ Ah—fuck. Yeah, that’s it… right there.”

He tilted his head toward the wall between the bedrooms.

Where his roommate—his best friend, the one who kissed him breathless three nights ago was still pretending he wasn’t listening.

Except Wooyoung knew better.

He knew how thin the walls were.

He knew how sensitive San was to his voice.

So he made it worse.

He let out another moan, this one soft and needy, as he finally pushed the plug all the way in. His thighs clenched, his back arched ever so slightly, and his voice dipped lower.

“Fuck… wish it was him instead,” he whispered into the mic, eyes fluttering shut. “Wish he was the one opening me up, not this toy.”

He dragged his fingers down his stomach, tracing the faint lines of his abs.

“Bet he’d go slow at first,” he added, voice a little breathless. “Just like this. Then he’d hold my hips down and—mmh— fuck me open.”

He swore he heard movement.

Something subtle. A chair creaking. A deep breath. A curse.

Wooyoung smiled.

Good.

Let him suffer.

The plug was fully seated now, snug and pressing perfectly inside him. Wooyoung rolled his hips slowly in the chair, letting the subtle movement grind the toy against his sweet spot. His breath stuttered out of him, high and needy.

“Fuck, it feels so good…” he murmured, letting the mic catch every little tremble in his voice. “So full… can’t stop thinking about his fingers. How careful he was. How deep he got.”

His hand slid down between his legs, fingers brushing over his cock—already hard and leaking against his stomach. He gasped at the touch, hips jerking.

The chat exploded .

[moans4u]: OH WE’RE DOING THIS
[spicyprince]: it’s the plug AND the stroking for me 😭
[VoiceWhore]: this is the most desperate he’s ever sounded
[PervDaddy]: whoever he’s talking about better THANK US FOR THIS FREE SHOW

Wooyoung chuckled breathlessly, pumping himself slowly with one hand, the other gripping the armrest of his chair for balance. The gentle tug of pressure from the plug every time he moved sent shivers up his spine.

He tilted his head back, lips parted, and moaned again—louder this time, raw and wrecked.

“Wish he was watching,” he whispered. “Wish he’d just come in already and fuck me instead.”

It was that line.

That exact moan-drenched confession, whispered into the mic like a challenge, that finally broke San.

The door opened.

Not a knock. Not a creak.

Just— click —and then San stepped inside.

Wooyoung startled slightly, head snapping toward the door, his hand still wrapped around his cock, plug still buried deep inside him. His breath caught.

San stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling, eyes dark and locked on Wooyoung’s body.

His voice was low. Rough. Barely controlled.

“…You really don’t know when to stop teasing, do you?”

Wooyoung blinked. Flushed. His lips parted like he was about to stammer something—anything—but nothing came out.

San stepped in, closing the door behind him.

He didn’t say anything at first.

He just walked— slowly —toward the chair, gaze dragging over every inch of Wooyoung’s bare skin. The way his legs were parted, the sheen of lube on his thighs, the twitch of his cock still in his hand, plug snug between his cheeks and begging for attention.

San licked his lips once.

Then, voice low but firm:

“Keep the stream on.”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched. His eyes widened just a little, fingers twitching where they rested against the chair.

“But don’t touch anything else,” San added, eyes narrowing slightly. “Not unless I say.”

Wooyoung shivered.

The chat exploded with question marks and emojis.

Wooyoung swallowed hard.

Then nodded.

San dropped to his knees in front of him like it was natural, like he’d done this a hundred times. His hands slid up Wooyoung’s thighs—steady, warm, possessive —until he reached the base of the plug.

His fingers curled around it.

Wooyoung gasped, head tilting back, his hips jolting in the chair.

“Still so full,” San murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear. “You really started without me.”

He twisted the plug gently—just enough for the pressure to shift—and Wooyoung moaned , biting his lip hard to keep from falling apart right there. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles white.

“Please…” he whispered.

San smirked, teasing the base with slow circles, pulling it partway out and pressing it back in again—watching every twitch of Wooyoung’s body with laser focus.

Then, without a word, San leaned in.

He kissed Wooyoung’s inner thigh first—soft, slow. Then higher.

Then higher.

Until his breath ghosted over the plug.

Wooyoung choked on a gasp.

“Wait—” he stammered, “you’re not gonna— fuck —”

Because San did.

His tongue flicked out, licking around the plug, lips trailing just beside where it was seated, teasing the sensitive skin. Then, with a deep breath and a soft hum, he pulled the toy back just a little with one hand and licked over the exposed rim.

Wooyoung sobbed .

“Oh my— fuck , oh my god—”

The chat blew up.

[PervDaddy]: BRO WHOEVER THIS IS IS A MENACE
[moans4u]: this is ACTUALLY insane
[streammod_69]: did y’all hear the moan? HE’S GETTING ATE OUT
[VoiceWhore]: I’M NEVER MISSING A STREAM AGAIN

San didn’t stop.

He was methodical—slowly pulling the plug out further, licking around the stretched entrance, tasting everything Wooyoung had worked himself up to before he got there. His other hand slipped under Wooyoung’s thigh, lifting it gently, holding him open.

Wooyoung was falling apart above him, trying not to make too much noise and failing miserably.

His head lolled against the chair, mouth parted, breath coming in short, stuttering gasps. His fingers gripped the arms of his chair like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. And still, San was between his thighs—calm, precise, devastating.

Then he pulled back slightly.

"Lift your hips," San murmured, voice low, steady, warm breath skating across Wooyoung’s slick skin.

Wooyoung obeyed instantly, desperate and trembling.

San removed the plug with one slow pull, slick sounds filling the room, Wooyoung gasping like he couldn’t take it.

The moment it was out, he felt empty .

But not for long.

San tossed the plug aside and leaned back in—this time with no barrier, no teasing.

Just his mouth.

Warm. Wet. Relentless.

His tongue dragged over Wooyoung’s entrance, slow at first, then firmer—lapping and curling, pushing just barely in. Wooyoung let out a strangled noise, a half-sob, half-moan that vibrated through the mic.

And then San spoke again.

“Don’t touch your cock.”

Wooyoung gasped. “Wha—”

“You want to come?” San said, voice darker now, lips brushing over him with every word. “You do it from this. Just this.”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He dove back in.

Wooyoung cried out, legs shaking as San’s tongue fucked into him, short, slow thrusts paired with deep, filthy moans that vibrated against his skin. His thighs fell open wider—helpless, exposed—his cock twitching untouched against his stomach.

“Fuckfuckfuck — ” he whimpered.

The chat was going crazy.

[PervDaddy]: HE’S MAKING HIM COME FROM RIMMING ALONE??
[moans4u]: he’s not even touching himself wtf this is wizardry
[spicyprince]: whoever’s down there deserves a Nobel peace prize
[VoiceWhore]: I JUST CAME FROM HEARING THAT

San had both hands on Wooyoung’s thighs now, spreading him open as he devoured him—his tongue driving in deeper, then pulling back to circle the rim again, sloppy and precise. He alternated between slow, sensual licks and quick, focused thrusts.

Wooyoung was gone .

He couldn’t even form words now—just broken sounds, his body jerking every time San hit the right rhythm. His eyes rolled back. His thighs clenched.

“I—I can’t—” he sobbed, trying to keep still, trying to obey.

San only tightened his grip.

“Yes, you can.”

And with one last, deep press of San’s tongue—right as he moaned low into him—

Wooyoung shattered.

He came hard , untouched, cock pulsing against his stomach, ropes of cum streaking across his torso as his back arched violently off the chair.

“ FUCK— ” he cried out, nearly sobbing from the force of it, legs shaking uncontrollably as the aftershocks rolled through him.

San didn’t stop.

He licked him through it, soft now, soothing—gentle flicks of his tongue, lips pressing kisses over his trembling inner thighs.

Wooyoung slumped back into the chair like he’d been wrecked from the inside out.

Because he had.

And San?

San was calm. Collected. A little flushed, lips slick, still kneeling between his legs like a sinner who’d just completed a prayer.

He slowly stood up.

And glanced at the screen.

The stream chat was still going insane .

[PervDaddy]: I CAME. I CRIED. I BELIEVED IN GOD.
[moans4u]: this man is a professional. he’s an ARTIST.
[VoiceWhore]: does he do house calls????
[streammod_69]: i swear if he ends the stream here I will RIOT

San arched a brow, lips twitching into a faint smirk.

He leaned down, brushed Wooyoung’s cheek with his fingers, and murmured low enough that it wouldn’t catch fully on the mic:

“Looks like they liked that.”

Wooyoung blinked at him, still dazed. “H-huh?”

San tilted his head toward the screen. “Your fans.”

Wooyoung flushed deep red. “Oh my god —”

But San didn’t give him the chance to spiral.

Instead, he stepped closer to the chair, hands resting on the armrests on either side of Wooyoung.

“Get up,” he said, low and smooth.

Wooyoung blinked again, breath still catching. “What?”

San leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “Get up,” he repeated, firmer now. “Let me sit.”

Wooyoung shivered .

His thighs ached. His hole still throbbed from being eaten within an inch of his life. But he stood, trembling slightly, letting San guide him aside.

San slid into the chair with effortless control, leaning back like he owned it—spreading his legs slightly, adjusting the mic just a bit. 

Then he looked up at Wooyoung and patted his thigh.

“Come sit.”

Wooyoung hesitated, glancing at the chat.

It was going nuclear.

[VoiceWhore]: IS HE ABOUT TO SIT IN HIS LAP
[PinkThirst]: SHUT UP SHUT UP I’M SWEATING
[PervDaddy]: I’M BARKING IRL
[moans4u]: DO IT BABY DO IT FOR US

Wooyoung bit his lip—then stepped forward, straddling San slowly, letting himself settle into his lap with a little hiss from the soreness.

San’s hands found his waist immediately.

Steady.

Warm.

Possessive.

He looked up at him, eyes dark, voice just low enough:

“You ready to give them a little more?”

Wooyoung settled into San’s lap, his knees on either side of his bare thighs (San was wearing shorts), still trembling a little from earlier. San adjusted him easily, large hands gripping his waist, guiding him down so that the soft curve of San’s thigh pressed right between his cheeks.

The stretch made Wooyoung whimper quietly—already too sensitive, too aware. San exhaled against his neck, calm as ever.

“Relax,” he whispered, lips brushing Wooyoung’s ear. “You’re okay. Just move with me.”

And then he lifted Wooyoung slightly, just a subtle shift—enough to make him roll forward across the muscle of San’s thigh, dragging over it.

Wooyoung moaned , breath hitching immediately, hips already starting to grind slowly, tentatively.

San’s hands stayed firm, steady on his waist. “That’s it. Just like that.”

The mic picked up every wet, sticky sound as Wooyoung began to move—slick from the earlier prep and release, grinding down slow and deep, catching friction in just the right spot. 

The chat was feral.

[moans4u]: IS HE RIDING HIS THIGH NOW????
[VoiceWhore]: what kind of boyfriend package is this
[PervDaddy]: THIGH RIDING. INSANE. ILLEGAL.
[PinkThirst]: THE CONTROL. THE AUDACITY. I’M WHEEZING

Then San did the unthinkable .

He leaned toward the mic—voice smooth, deep, like he was hosting a late night radio show and not slowly ruining his best friend on camera.

“So…” he said, fingers still guiding Wooyoung’s movements. “What do you all want to see next?”

Wooyoung froze , mouth falling open.

“San—” he whispered, barely managing to keep his voice low.

San ignored him.

He smiled—slow, dangerous.

“He’s already sensitive,” he murmured. “Still wet. Still twitching every time he moves.”

One of his hands slipped down, spreading Wooyoung’s cheeks just slightly. “We could go slower,” San said casually. “Make him grind until he comes again like this…”

Wooyoung whimpered, biting his lip hard, his cock already starting to twitch again, just from the pressure and San’s voice alone.

“Or,” San continued, “we could switch it up.”

The chat exploded.

[moans4u]: NOT HIM ASKING US
[VoiceWhore]: STOP TALKING LIKE THIS IS A POLL
[PervDaddy]: SIR PLEASE DO ALL OF IT
[spicyprince]: let him come on ur thigh and THEN fuck him 😭
[streammod_69]: someone needs to check on him bc he’s losing motor control rn

San chuckled lowly and turned his head slightly, lips brushing under Wooyoung’s jaw.

“You hear that, baby?” he whispered. “They want it all.”

Wooyoung moaned, breathless, grinding harder now with no shame—his body flushed, eyes glassy, voice cracking as he whispered:

“Then give it to them.”

Wooyoung was seconds from coming again, grinding desperately into San’s thigh, the muscles under him tense and solid, a perfect point of friction. His cock was red and leaking, twitching with every rock of his hips, and his moans had gone hoarse.

“Please—please, let me—”

But San wasn’t letting him finish like that.

“No,” he said, voice steady, dark with something final. “You’re not coming like this.”

Before Wooyoung could even whimper in protest, San shifted underneath him—hands sliding to Wooyoung’s hips, lifting him just enough to break contact.

And then?

He reached for the waistband of his own shorts.

Wooyoung blinked, breath hitching.

San dragged them down—slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on Wooyoung’s wrecked face the entire time. The fabric slid past his hips, revealing his cock, flushed and hard and already dripping from how long he’d been holding back.

Wooyoung stared.

His thighs trembled harder.

San let his shorts drop to the floor without a care, then brought his hands back to Wooyoung’s waist, grip firmer now, hungrier. He guided him forward, cock pressing hot and heavy between them, the head nudging just under Wooyoung’s rim.

“You want to come?” San murmured, voice rough, eyes dark. “Then you’ll come like this.”

Wooyoung swallowed hard. “Y-yeah—fuck—yes.”

San looked him over once more—his flushed skin, his swollen lips, the mess of sweat and slick between his legs.

Then he whispered, “Go on.”

And guided him down.

The stretch was slow, aching, so much more than the plug—so much more. Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan, hands flying to San’s shoulders to steady himself as San’s cock slid in deep, inch by inch.

“ Fuck— ” Wooyoung gasped, “so deep— ”

San bit back a groan, his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s waist.

“You’re tight,” he growled softly, barely audible over the sound of their bodies joining. “You were made for this. Made for me. ”

The chat lost its goddamn mind.

[PervDaddy]: OH MY GODDDDDD
[moans4u]: IS THAT HIS COCK IS THAT WHAT’S HAPPENING RN
[VoiceWhore]: HE’S INSIDE HIM.
[spicyprince]: I’M NOT OKAY
[streammod_69]: i’m calling out of work i can’t do this

Wooyoung’s legs were trembling, thighs clenching around San’s sides as he sank down fully—taking him in deep, seated right in his lap, stuffed full.

San stayed still for a second, chest heaving, his cock buried to the hilt inside Wooyoung.

Then, voice low, lips brushing Wooyoung’s cheek:

“Now ride.”

Wooyoung started to move.

Slow at first—tentative, trembling. He lifted his hips just enough to feel the stretch ease, then dropped back down with a soft, broken moan as San’s cock filled him again.

And again.

And again.

His thighs burned. His body was wrecked, soaked from sweat and slick. Every motion made him gasp, whimper, twitch . But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not with San’s hands holding his hips, firm and steady. Not with that cock buried so deep it made him see stars .

San exhaled softly, head tilted back, letting Wooyoung ride.

“Just like that,” he murmured, voice low and husky. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

Wooyoung whimpered, grinding down harder, chasing every inch.

“You feel that?” San whispered, breath hot against his ear. “How full you are? How good you’re taking me?”

Wooyoung nodded frantically, words gone, hips rolling in messy, desperate circles.

San’s hand slid up his back, fingers threading through the hair at Wooyoung’s nape, tugging just slightly.

“Look at you,” he said, smirking. “You’re fucking yourself on my cock in front of all your precious little fans.”

The chat was melting down .

[PervDaddy]: HE’S RIDING HIM. HE’S RIDING HIM. HE’S RIDING HIM.
[moans4u]: I’M ON THE FLOOR SCREAMING
[streammod_69]: COCKDRUNK. ABSOLUTELY COCKDRUNK.
[spicyprince]: HE’S NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING. JUST SITTING THERE. AND LETTING HIM WORK.

Wooyoung was panting now, moaning openly, not even trying to muffle the sounds anymore.

Every time he dropped down, San’s cock rubbed right against his sweet spot, making him jolt and shake, fingers digging into San’s shoulders like he might fall apart completely.

San chuckled low against his neck.

“You gonna come like this?” he asked, voice all velvet and filth. “Just from fucking yourself on my cock? You needy little thing.”

Wooyoung sobbed. “Y-Yes—fuck, I can’t—I’m so close—”

San held him tighter, grounding him.

“Then come,” he whispered. “Show them how good I make you feel.”

And with one more sharp grind, one deep, trembling bounce—

Wooyoung shattered .

His whole body jerked, a loud cry ripping from his throat as he came, untouched, spilling between their stomachs, cum painting both of them as his muscles clamped down around San’s cock.

San groaned softly, arms wrapping around him as Wooyoung trembled through it, breath stuttering in his chest.

“Good boy,” he murmured, kissing the side of his jaw. “That’s it. Just like that.”

Wooyoung slumped forward in San’s arms, breath shaky, his whole body trembling in the afterglow. His thighs twitched, his cock softening slightly between them, spent and sticky. 

His forehead dropped against San’s shoulder, skin flushed and glowing, lips parted with every ragged breath.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t even think.

And that’s when San’s hands tightened around his hips.

A quiet growl left San’s throat as he shifted his grip, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above Wooyoung’s ass.

“You did so well, baby,” he murmured.

And then his voice dropped—rough, hoarse, dangerous .

“But I’m not done.”

Before Wooyoung could even whimper, San rolled his hips up.

Hard.

Wooyoung gasped—a raw, wrecked sound that barely resembled language.

San fucked up into him again, slow at first, then rougher—using his grip on Wooyoung’s limp waist to guide him up and down , bouncing him on his cock like he weighed nothing. The slick, lewd sounds of skin meeting skin echoed through the room.

“Too much—fuck — ” Wooyoung sobbed, voice cracking.

But he didn’t try to stop him.

He couldn’t.

His hips jerked with every thrust, his body bouncing helplessly in San’s lap, overstimulated and wide open, his hole stretching again and again around San’s cock.

And San? He was feral now.

“You feel that?” he growled, thrusting up with sharp, brutal rhythm. “Feel how deep I am?”

Each snap of his hips hit hard , dragging broken moans from Wooyoung’s throat that spilled right into the mic.

San’s mouth dropped to Wooyoung’s neck, biting at the skin, leaving wet marks and soft grunts of pleasure between each deep thrust.

“Gonna come inside you,” he growled into his ear. “Stuff you full. Let everyone hear how good I fill you up.”

Wooyoung could only whine , mouth open in a silent gasp, his cock hardening again from the stimulation, insanely close despite having just come.

San fucked up into him faster now, his thighs flexing, every thrust angled perfectly to hit that spot inside Wooyoung that made his legs spasm.

“I can’t—” Wooyoung cried out. “ I’m gonna come again— ”

“Then come,” San growled.

“Come while I fuck you full.”

Wooyoung was gasping , his entire body jolting with every thrust.

San’s grip on him was relentless. His cock was hitting that spot over and over , deep and punishing, and Wooyoung couldn’t hold back anymore.

“ I’m— ” His voice broke.

And then he was coming again.

His body arched, trembling violently as his cock pulsed between their stomachs, untouched, streaking them both with cum for the second time that night. His head fell forward, mouth open in a silent moan, his voice catching in his throat as his hole clenched tight around San’s cock.

That was all it took.

San’s rhythm faltered. His breath hitched—sharp, ragged—and then he groaned , low and broken, as he came deep inside Wooyoung, hips jerking up one final time.

Thick, hot spurts spilled into him, and San held him close, arms wrapping tight around his trembling body as he let himself go . His face buried in Wooyoung’s neck, his breath stuttering against damp skin.

The room was filled with the sound of panting, skin against skin, the mic still live, the chat absolutely losing their minds.

San finally blinked, dazed, sweat dripping down his temple.

He reached over with one trembling hand, blindly fumbling for the mouse.

His fingers hovered.

Then—with a final exhale—he ended the stream.

The screen went dark.

Silence filled the room.

San leaned back in the chair, still inside Wooyoung, his arms gently cradling him now, no more control, no more dominance—just soft fingers stroking over flushed skin, grounding them both.

“You okay?” he whispered, voice wrecked but warm.

Wooyoung gave a weak little nod, cheek resting against San’s shoulder, lips curving into the tiniest smile.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Never been better.”

The shower was slow, quiet, and filled with soft touches.

San had held him up the whole time—gentle, steady, taking care to wash away every trace of sweat, cum, and slick with a warm washcloth and hands that were surprisingly delicate after what they'd just done. 

Wooyoung leaned against him the entire time, half-asleep on his feet, letting San rinse the suds from his hair and kiss the top of his head like he wasn’t a demon ten minutes ago.

When they finally dried off, San carried him straight to bed.

They curled under the sheets, limbs tangled together, skin warm and soft and still a little damp. The scent of clean soap clung to both of them now, mixing with the faint trace of sex that still lingered in the room.

San had one arm wrapped loosely around Wooyoung’s waist, his face tucked against the crook of his neck. Wooyoung was finally starting to relax, cheek smushed against his pillow, blinking slowly in the quiet dark.

Then he spoke.

“I was so annoyed,” he muttered, voice muffled. “Before you came in.”

San blinked. “What?”

“You said I’ll think about it, ” Wooyoung said, imitating his tone with a mocking little eye-roll. “I’ll think about it, like you didn’t just watch me come all over myself three nights ago.”

San chuckled, breath warm against his skin. “I was teasing.”

“You were ignoring me.”

“I was gaming,” San said with a sleepy smile. “But I was also definitely planning to come in.”

“Eventually?”

“I wanted to make you beg a little.”

Wooyoung turned his head to glare at him. “You are evil. ”

San grinned. “I made you come three times.”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to argue—then closed it. “…Fair.”

San nuzzled closer, his thumb drawing lazy circles on Wooyoung’s hip under the blanket. “You should’ve seen your face when I walked in. Like I caught you committing a federal crime.”

“I kind of was!”

San laughed softly. “A sexy, profitable one.”

They lay in silence for a moment.

Then Wooyoung mumbled, “You better join the next one from the start.”

San pulled him closer, chest to chest now, nose brushing his cheek.

“I’ll do more than join ,” he whispered.

Wooyoung smirked, cheeks pink.

“Good.”