implausible - woosan

chapter thirteen

san wooyoung

09.07.17

kissing is not all wooyoung expected it to be. for one, the exchange is noisier than he expected. he's very aware of every little breath san draws, every little sound.

he doesn't want san to draw away so soon, and is deathly embarrassed when his own lips move against nothing. he's 17, and he's barely been so much as touched by anyone but himself. and it's worse because san's definitely experienced, if the way he kisses is telling of anything.

feeling light on his feet, wooyoung is filled with want, brave. "do it again," he suggests, earning a surprised laugh from san that he feels against his neck.

he's not sure when he became the forward one, when he decided to be so bold, and san's laugh sounds wrecked. like he couldn't want him any more. like he's breaking into a million pieces in his arms.

san drops his head to bury his face in wooyoung's shoulder, his nose pressed against his collarbone. he inhales deeply, breathing wooyoung in. a fluttering grips within his stomach, sickeningly sweet.

he locates san's waist again, which is surprisingly small under his hands. it's becoming his favourite place in the world. touching is his seeing, and his vision is filled with san.

"wooyoung," san exhales lowly, a laugh in the name. and it's just his name. but it's coming from san's lips, and wooyoung wants them on his. this is his movie moment, this is living.

he dreads it, the fact he has no way of knowing what san is thinking or if he's going to comply. thinks he might die if his mouth doesn't find san's very soon. it almost physically hurts to be so close to him, as if he's resisting a magnetic field pulling them together. he's ready to give in.

it's also scary- because he doesn't want to disappoint san. doesn't want to end up being a terrible kisser. san wouldn't tell him, if he was, because he's too nice. he thinks the first kiss was nice. very nice. he hopes san does too.

he feels the boy slowly raise his head, his warm breath leaving his skin as he leans back enough to look at him. san's close enough to make out the individual rings of varying blues in wooyoung's eyes, marveling at the misty coat over them. he can stare at him for hours. the light is dim, and his eyelashes cast heavy shadows on his cheekbones. he's got a freckle on the left side of his face, under his eye. san's seen it before, but never this close. his presses his lips to it gently, leaving a soft kiss over the mark.

at the same time, he lifts his arm to hold the other side of wooyoung's neck, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip. it's taunting, and wooyoung's melting, the fluttering dissolving his insides into hot mush. san pulls away, because he wants to look at him again.

there's a freckle on the right side of his lower lip, one that san hasn't noticed before. he presses the thumb harder against that spot, simultaneously applying the barest amount of more pressure with his hand on the side on wooyoung's neck. on fire with these unfamiliar, intimate touches, every second that san is touching him stretches out for an eternity. there is a clear measure in his life, as of now: seconds in which choi san was touching him, and seconds in which he was not.

today is taking many of those seconds.

and then san's lips are brushing over his, just kissing the corner of his mouth. tipping his head back slightly, wooyoung exhales breathily. lightning and fireworks dance across his brain; flash and ripple through him. "how has no one ever kissed you before?" san murmurs, moving the other's hair back with his hand.