↱FRIENDS↲ ⇾woosan⇽

mercy

It wasn't intentional.

And if it had been up to San and his intentions then there would have been a lot more... effort put into it.

Maybe a nice home cooked dinner, some wine, flowers even, because San was a fucking hopeless romantic when it came to beautiful men, when it came to Wooyoung.

But in their defense, if there were flowers, they would have more than likely been crushed and wilting on the floor in a matter of seconds, discarded and forgotten amidst their excitement, dropped somewhere between their rush to get in Wooyoung's bedroom and the pain of San's back meeting the door.

"Fuck, what took you so long?" Wooyoung groaned, already panting wet and hot into the elder's mouth, fingers hooking into the front of San's belt loops, and then they were kissing and San was struggling not to just melt into a puddle by the door.

Wooyoung kissed like a madman, feverish and insistent with a confidence that made San groan against the slick of his tongue, hands wandering up his chest where he searched for any strip of tanned skin he could find.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue and pressure, a whispered finally that San felt at the very bottom of his abdomen, stirring beneath his gut where his dick twitched expectantly, hips canting forward until they pressed flushed together.

Their lips parted with an obnoxiously wet noise, a string of spit connecting them, and Wooyoung actually laughed, goofy and sudden enough to pull a smile from San.

"What took me so long?" He asked, trying to clarify, and it really wasn't his fault that his hands had found their way back down to Wooyoung's naval, thumbs dipping underneath his shirt that was still untucked from earlier, fingers brushing across his stomach.

Wooyoung licked his lips, swaying forward slightly at the feeling.

"I thought you'd never stand up. My dick's been hard for an hour."

San grinned.

"That good, huh?"

"You know it was. God, that was hot. How are you so hot?"

The last few words were heavy and garbled out into the side of San's neck, incoherent, but San didn't care about what he'd said nearly as much as he cared about the way he started tearing San's jacket off, ripping it from his arms and throwing it to the ground before suddenly stopping, hands pawing at the elder's upper arms.

San frowned, chest falling and rising heavily.

"What's wrong?"

"Are these Seonghwa's?" Wooyoung asked, looking sharply at the dark turtleneck and ripped jeans, hands playing lightly at the belt, and San wanted to die.

He winced, head rolling back against the door as Wooyoung laughed.

"I didn't have anything to wear." He demanded, embarrassed beyond recovery, but then Wooyoung was pressing his laughter right into the softness of San's cheek, kissing him softly, and San was paying much more attention to the ache in his chest than the heat in his face.

"Did you dress up for me, hyung?" He smiled, sounding unbearably soft and delighted at the effort.

San could barely focus on him when they were like this, closer than he ever expected to get, eyes rushing to catch every detail, every frame and angle that was Jung Wooyoung.