on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter Twenty Two

Yeosang hands the key with ease, telling Wooyoung that it's on him tonight. Wooyoung is surprised how Yeosang seems nice to him today, either he felt bad going behind Wooyoung's back, or either he's a little too enthusiastic about his sex life, and he votes for the latter.

Wooyoung feels like he's back in his element when he slams the door shut and tumbles down on the bed all the while hungrily kissing San. He feels the adrenaline rush for what he knows is coming and a strange comfort puddles in him for coming back to what he's familiar with; kissing, getting dicked down, all the animalistic instincts that leave no space for feelings or thoughts to get in.

But then there's San.

He gleefully answers Wooyoung's request more than usual because it's his "birthday"—every single one of them unless Wooyoung is being reckless and wants his cock before he's fully stretched. He feels good. San always makes him feel fucking good, more so than anyone else had and that makes his mind hazy with arousal, and sure, he can't think except for wanting more, deeper and harder. But he feels—he feels his skin burning where San brushes his lips against, his heart thrumming when San looks down on him with those blazing eyes. And Wooyoung knows that didn't come in the package of sex, at least for him.

"San, f-fuck," he cries out, and he's glad he can't say anything else because he doesn't know what's swelling inside his heart and he's sure he'd regret it once he lets it go.

His moan rides along the song that's going on outside, and Wooyoung catches the phrase "birthday sex" and knows it's courtesy to Yeosang's twisted sense of humour. He feels like San's hips are following the slow rhythm of the song, rocking inside him rather leisurely, as though he is massaging his walls, pleasures rippling through his entire body from every place his cock hits. In all the right places—but the thing is, all the places are right because every corner of Wooyoung's body turns fucking sensitive when San touches.

At one point, his back arches, as he grunts when San is balls-deep in him, and San traces his gentle fingers along the line of Wooyoung's neck, his chest, his belly button to his leaking cock, and calls him, "beautiful." He also offers a chaste kiss on the left side of Wooyoung's chest, right above where his beating heart lies, and he shudders. He comes hard with a help of San's stroke on his cock, and lets San thrust in him a few more times before he releases, his face buried in Wooyoung's crook of the neck, groaning, his lips brushing on the skin, and Wooyoung hates to admit that made him shiver again.

Techno pop tune is going on outside, with a phrase of "sex" here and there, and Wooyoung guesses Yeosang had made a whole playlist for tonight. He really sees no limit to whatever he puts his mind in.

San comes back from the attached bathroom after cleaning himself, coming back with a wet towel for Wooyoung. Just when he's about to reach the bed, Wooyoung's stomach rumbles in protest, making San chuckle. His body is probably the most honest part of his existence, craving for sex, and now after fulfilling that need, craving for food. He's hungry.

San tosses the towel to Wooyoung, which he uses to wipe off the mixed fluid on his skin as soon as he catches it. San made sure to soak it with warm water, just proving how he is a "considerate" walking on two legs (and a good dick in between), and Wooyoung sighs at how good it feels.

"Let's go eat," San proposes, collecting Wooyoung's ridden clothes on the floor. When San picks up Wooyoung's jeans, something falls off from the pocket.

"Condoms?" San murmurs, examining the aluminum package that looks all too familiar to Wooyoung.

Fuck, is Wooyoung's instant thought, but rethinks that it looks like nothing but a condom. He's the one who suggested the package, and no one will know unless they open it, even if "The Rolling Stoner" sounds quite suspicious. He can just say it's a condom, that he's always sex deprived that he carries them around if he ever gets stricken by the libido—so he really doesn't know why his mouth decides to say something against his will.

"It's a drug."

San blinks at him, his fingers still holding the package in between, Wooyoung's clothes hanging on his forearm.

"Oh," San mutters blankly, glancing back down at the package.

There's a rush of something in Wooyoung, and a sweat, that isn't from the sex he had earlier, rolls down his back. He unknowingly clenches his fist on the sheets.

"I'm a dealer," he confesses, his voice hostile. "Does that bother you?"

If San says "yes", then it's the end of all of this. It's fine, they are just hookups, and the fact that he's going to miss on a great dick is kind of saddening, but that's also life passing by.

It almost feels like an eternity with San blankly staring at the package, his emotion unreadable, without a word. He doesn't know why he stares at San so carefully, so as to not miss any reaction he makes.

He finally looks up, stares back at Wooyoung's eyes, and smiles faintly, "No."

Wooyoung didn't know he had his muscles stiffened, until he heard him say. He feels his tendons unravel, and a small sigh slips through his barely parted lips.

"Come on." San approaches with his clothes in his hands. "I'm starving."

He tucks the packages safely back into Wooyoung's jeans pocket before he hands it to him.