chapter twenty one

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your back beneath the sun
wishing i could write my name on it

wooyoung san

06.08.17

it's surreal, to wake up next to wooyoung. to have him so close, to feel him beside him.

when san opens his eyes, he's unsure if he's actually slept a wink or not. wooyoung's back is pressed up against him, blonde hair hiding his face where it's tucked down. san's bare chest rises unevenly against the warm skin of his back, struggling to function or know to act. with wooyoung so close to him, as he had been in many ways all night, the darker haired hasn't been able to get a wink of the fitful sleep of his dreams.

his own leg has found its way over wooyoung's as if protecting his body with his own, and now san just lies awake in silence, listening to their deep breathing. his eyes wonder over what he can see of the blonde's honey skin, memorizing its every callous, dip and curve. his vision is full of it, and san raises his hand to stroke his shoulder delicately, mesmerized by its smooth perfection and the way his fingers look gliding over it in the light.

he props himself up carefully so not to wake the sleeping boy, raising himself so he can look at him better. san had worshipped him in so many ways the night before, but it had been dark. now he wants to do the same with his eyes. wooyoung's tousled blonde hair is thick and lustrous, and all san can think about when he gazes down at it is how it feels to grip it in his hands and run his fingers through its locks.

his skin gives off its own golden glow in the morning sunlight, addicting to each and every one of san's senses. he still plans to scour every inch of it, leaving no corner untouched. wooyoung sleeps peacefully, with his tempting pink lips pouting slightly beneath his suiting nose. running his fingers along the younger's collarbone and onto his neck, san revisits the pleasures of last night, everywhere he touches evoking a memory. it's a lot, and he has to swallow thickly, regaining himself.

his eyes next flicker over wooyoung's defined jawline, throat bobbing at the irresistibility of its composure. wooyoung's dark lashes flutter secretively over his cheekbones, resting atop them elegantly and concealing the beauty and power of the eyes beneath. san brushes his knuckles against the boys cheek, frowning cautiously to himself when the he makes an awakening murmur of disapproval.

san is oddly calmed by his presence and the assurance of his safety, for a moment able to bathe in wooyoung's warmth and light as easily as he breathes, immune and oblivious to darkness. when the blonde opens his eyes, san watches them widen and narrow, adjusting to being awake as he releases a feeble yawn, pupils unresponsive to the warm light.

he stares without blinking, a ferocious passion kindling in his own hazelnut eyes as he continues to observe the other who remains unknowing of his branding gaze.

san can describe wooyoung's eyes with every ounce of poetic inspiration within him, and it will never be able to do them justice. they are a sky in themselves, an expanse holding droplets of deep blue ocean seeming encased in shimmering glass, blue supergiant stars on a canvas. if rigel is the brightest, bluest star in the constellation of orion, san thinks there are multiple rigels, and they are all home to wooyoung's irises.

wooyoung is the epitome of perfection. virtuous artistry personified in its final form, the shape of his exquisiteness shapeless with sublime cruelty - the insignificant onlooker's tongue incapable of describing his essence. san's the insignificant here, considering himself lucky to even exist in the same moment as wooyoung.

his effortlessly consummate design radiates impeccable allure, catching san's breath in his throat, its impact causing his bones to ache with the force of his entire being screaming gorgeous.

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