Archive of Our Own

“No.”

Seonghwa shoots Wooyoung a disgruntled look—clearly unused to hearing the word in any context, let alone directed at him. He licks a stray drop of ketchup from his finger, the motion oddly petulant, his lips pursed in a pout.

”What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Wooyoung snorts. “Hyung, it’s weird. Even you have to admit that. I don't know this man or his kids—I’m not doing it.”

Seonghwa lets out a sigh, exasperated. “Young-ah, it’s not weird. You’re great with kids. You almost majored in early childhood education, remember? Please, just this once? As a favor for me?”

Wooyoung shifts in the passenger seat, the leather material sticking to his bare thighs as his eyes purposefully focus on the food in his lap rather than the other man's face. The car window’s glass feels warm against his head as he leans back against it, soaking in what he can of the afternoon sun outside.

I should’ve known it was a trap when he texted me to have lunch with him. He never makes plans on such short notice unless he needs something.

Wooyoung avoids responding by shoveling another handful of fries into his mouth. Seonghwa, however, is undeterred by his lack of response—barreling on as he continues to pitch his plea.

”I feel seriously bad cancelling so suddenly. I can’t babysit anymore like I promised him yesterday—Hongjoong and I fly out at seven. His girls are sweethearts; they’ll give you zero trouble.”

”I regret ever meeting you,” Wooyoung grumbles, biting into another fry. “I’m not some broke teenager hustling for iPod money. I still have two more classes to attend today—and I doubt your friend wants a total stranger watching his kids.”

Seonghwa’s pout deepens. “He’s totally fine with it. I vouched for you, okay? It’s just a few hours. Please?”

Wooyoung glares at him. Seonghwa, unbothered, leans dramatically over the center console from his position in the driver’s seat, pushing himself into Wooyoung’s personal space as he widens his eyes in a poor imitation of cuteness. Wooyoung bursts out laughing, closing the space between them as he darts forward and licks a quick stripe up the older man’s cheek. He pulls back gleefully as Seonghwa yelps in horror, a stricken look of disgust crossing his face.

”You’re so gross,” Seonghwa complains, grabbing a stray napkin from his take-out bag to wipe desperately at his face. Wooyoung shrugs unapologetically, a triumphant grin still tugging at his lips.

“Fine hyung—you win. Tell your friend that I’ll help him out tonight.”

Seonghwa’s eyes light up as he abruptly straightens in his seat. “Wait, really?”

”Yeah,” Wooyoung nods with a resigned sigh. “You owe me, though.”

Seonghwa lets out a small whoop! of joy as he snatches his cellphone up from the dashboard, quickly thumbing a text off to his friend. “Oh my god, Young-ah. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver. I felt so bad cancelling on Sannie for tonight, and knew I was putting him in a tight spot. You’re literally saving the day!”

Wooyoung exhales amusedly at the older man's relief. “You owe me a dinner after this though.”

Seonghwa nods his head enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. As soon as I get back from my trip, I’ll take you out for meat and drinks.”

”I want lamb. And dessert afterwards.”

”Yes, yes—Lamb and dessert afterwards, got it.”

Wooyoung chuckles. “Where is your dumb boyfriend whisking you off to so short-notice anyways?”

Seonghwa shrugs, still distractedly tapping away at his screen. “Dunno. He called me this morning and told me to pack enough clothes for a week, and to dress for tropical weather?”

Wooyoung throws himself back against his seat childishly, a jealous groan leaving his lips. “You’re so annoying, and so is your producer boyfriend…Does he have any friends he can set me up with?”

Seonghwa snorts. “You didn’t find Hongjoong so annoying when he bought you that chrome hearts bracelet for your birthday last year.”

Wooyoung perks up at the memory, his heart instantly warming with fondness. “He is actually such a sweetheart. I never take that bracelet off, y’know?”

Seonghwa looks up from his phone, eyeing said bracelet on Wooyoung’s wrist with a mild look of disgust. “Yeah, I know. It’s practically a petri dish at this point.”

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at Seonghwa before shoveling more fries into his mouth as he protests, “Nuh-uh. It gets cleaned when I’m in the shower!”

Seonghwa sighs, ignoring him as he locks his phone. “Okay, I let Sannie know that you said yes. I sent him your number, so he’ll text you soon with the details.”

Wooyoung nods, swallowing his mouthful of food before speaking again. “Okay. Now, tell me more about this dude. Where exactly do you know him from again?”

”He was a guest lecturer last year for my grad program. He’s a moral philosophy professor.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen in surprise, shock running through his veins at the revelation. “Hyung, what the hell? You befriended a professor?”

Seonghwa shrugs, seemingly thinking nothing of it. “It’s not weird! It’s not like he teaches at my school, and he was nice. After the lecture series ended, we bumped into each other and just clicked, I guess.”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “This is so on-brand for you. This is just like that time you volunteered at that senior center last year, and became best friends with half of the halmeoni’s there.”

Seonghwa smiles. “Actually, they’re having a mahjong tournament next weekend. Want to come with me? I already asked Hongjoong and he said ‘no thanks’.”

Shaking his head, Wooyoung barks out a laugh. “You’re so weird. What’s with you and constantly hanging with the elderly? Fuck no.”

Shrugging, Seonghwa leans down to take a long sip of his milkshake from where it rests in the cupholder. “Suit yourself.”

”Tell me more about your professor friend’s kids. What exactly am I getting myself into tonight?”

A fond grin tugs at Seonghwa’s lips. “The girls are twins, Chorong and Hayoung. They’re the sweetest three-year olds ever.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen incredulously as he sends Seonghwa a dangerous glare. “Did you say ‘three’? They’re three years old?”

Seonghwa's smile turns half-sheepish, half-confused. “Yes….?”

Wooyoung groans, running a tired hand down his face, ignoring the small crumbs of French-fry salt getting transferred from his palms onto his skin. “Great. Not only am I watching some strangers' kids, they’re also in their ‘three-nager’ stage in life.”

Seonghwa laughs loudly. “Don’t stress, Woo. I meant it when I said they’re sweethearts. No threenager’s to worry about, trust me.”

Wooyoung grumbles as he leans back further against the leather seats of Seonghwa’s car. “I hope so, otherwise you’ll owe me a lot more than just lamb.”

X x X

“Thank you, sir!” Wooyoung calls out cheerfully, waving goodbye to the doorman as the elevator doors begin to slide shut, separating Wooyoung from the lavish front lobby he had just occupied. The uniformed man returns the gesture good-naturedly, a friendly smile on his face.

Wooyoung is nervous as hell.

The short train ride into the center of the city from his off-campus apartment had been nothing short of harrowing. Seonghwa’s friend, ‘Sannie’, had been extremely brisk in his messages to Wooyoung, providing only the barest of information. Wooyoung had even struggled to find the correct building, given practically no intel from the man on how it looked, or what to watch out for to ensure he was in the correct place. He’d had to verify with the doorman manning the front desk that he was even in the right place—the address he had been given directing him to a high-rise building comprised of luxury condominiums—clearly outside of his tax bracket.

Who the hell am I babysitting for tonight? Tony Stark?

It’s not like Wooyoung is complaining, per say. He knows the man was probably at work throughout the day, unable to step away long enough to send a proper message of greeting or introduction. Hell, Wooyoung himself had two classes right after his little lunch date with Seonghwa in the older man's car.

But the lack of communication has only amplified the rush of nerves and questions coursing through Wooyoung’s veins. Whoever this man is, he’s definitely older and well-seasoned in life. That’s easy enough to decipher from his plushy accommodations.

‘Sannie’ had only texted Wooyoung what time he should arrive, and a 4-digit code to punch into the elevator that would bring him to the correct floor. He’d instructed Wooyoung to give his last name to the doorman, and that he would help guide him to the correct elevator to take up.

Choi.

The elevator dings as the doors slide open, signaling its arrival on the designated floor. Wooyoung steps out tentatively, noting the long hallway he is now in. The marble flooring sparkles under the warm overhead lighting, the paint job on the walls fresh and accented. But in spite of that, the space is seemingly barren aside from a single door on each end of the hall.

Wooyoung pulls his phone out, referring once more back to the text message he had received earlier.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: Give the doorman the last name, ‘Choi’, and he’ll direct you to the correct elevator. Code 4762 will bring you to our floor. Door # 602.

602.

Wooyoung glances first to the left, then to the right, struggling to read the numbers on both doors on opposite ends of the hall. He eventually gives up, choosing to try the left door first.

Well, if it’s not this one, then it’s the other door.

As he grows closer, he’s able to make out the numbers on the door much more clearly. 602.

So, this is it. Fuck.

He glances at his phone screen once more as he comes to a stop in front of the door—8 P.M. Right on time.

He takes a moments pause to steady his rapidly increasing heart rate, unsure as to why he feels so nervous. It’s not like he’s never babysat before. This will be just as smooth going as it was in the past, right?

Raising his hand, he knocks briskly. The door swings open swiftly a few moments later.

Wait…what the hell?

The sight that greets him on the other side of the door is the furthest thing from what Wooyoung expected.

”Hello! Wooyoung, right? Come on in,” the man standing there greets Wooyoung warmly, holding the door open wide as he steps aside to allow him entry.

Wooyoung steps past the threshold into the spacious entryway, his thoughts racing a mile a minute as he turns to face the kind stranger who had let him in with a barely concealed expression of surprise.

Is this…? Nah. No fucking way this is the man. Seonghwa-hyung said he was older. This has to be a friend, or a neighbor or something…

The man who had opened the door is certainly not old, stuffy, and balding like Wooyoung had pictured him to be. (In his defense, it’s very on brand behavior for Seonghwa to befriend an older man exactly like that.) Far from it—in fact, he can’t be more than a few years older than Wooyoung himself. His deep-set dimples stand out as he sends Wooyoung a warm smile, extending a hand in greeting.

Wooyoung’s gaze drops—then lingers—on the delicious expanse of tanned forearm revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of the man’s black dress shirt. The clearly pricey fabric pulls snug over broad shoulders and tapers at a narrow waist, tucked into tailored slacks. The tie hanging around his neck is loosened in a messy yet attractive way, and even the strands of black hair that hang over his face, freed from the obvious hair gel he had used at some point earlier in the day, frame his ridiculously handsome face alluringly. In all honesty, the man looks as though he’s just stepped off the front cover of a high-society fashion magazine.

Holy fucking shit. Who is this guy?

Wooyoung shakily returns his smile—hoping that the man didn’t catch the way he just shamelessly checked him out—reaching out to take his hand. “Hello. Yes, I’m Wooyoung.”

The man's dimples seem to deepen as his smile grows. “Nice to meet you, I’m Choi San. Thank you so much for offering your help tonight. Seonghwa spoke very highly of you.”

…No way. No fucking way. This is ‘Sannie’?

Wooyoung tries not to let his very obvious surprise at the revelation of the man’s identity show on his face as he nods along hastily. “Ah, it’s no problem at all!”

But the fact remains that Choi San is….much younger than Wooyoung was expecting. In fact, he’s certain that the older man can’t be that much older than either he or Seonghwa. And for him to be clearly so accomplished at such a young age…It truly is impressive.

San releases his hand as he steps around Wooyoung, leading him out of the entry hall and further into the large apartment. “Normally, Seonghwa or my parents watch Hayoung and Chorong for me on unexpected nights like today. But they’re all out of town at the moment, and I was freaking out a little bit when I remembered I have a work event.”

Wooyoung nods in understanding as he follows behind the man into a large, open space that is clearly split into a living room and dining room. The demarcated living room side is sleek and modern, all floor-to-ceiling windows and chic furnishing that must have cost a number close to what Wooyoung pays in tuition. He notes what appears to be a kitchen a little ways behind the dining room side—but his attention is instantly drawn towards the lively scene occurring on the dining room table—and the two little girls that are seated in high-rise seats pulled up against the dark mahogany wood.

”Baby girls, I need your listening ears on,” San calls, catching both toddlers' attention as they look up from the mess of coloring sheets and crayons spread out between them.

Oh my god…They are so fucking adorable.

The girls are clearly fraternal, with one of them appearing to be a complete carbon copy of San, and the other most likely looking like whoever their mother is. They’re dressed in matching footy-pajamas—with one set pink while the other blue—their thick, black hair pulled into identical braids down their backs.

Wooyoung’s heart immediately melts as the two little girls gazes land on him, their eyes lighting up in a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

”Remember how daddy told you we’d have a new friend staying with you tonight? This is uncle Wooyoung, say hello.”

“Hi!” The twin in blue pajamas calls out enthusiastically, waving a tiny hand in greeting, a crayon still clutched tightly in her grip.

The twin in pink pajamas—San’s carbon copy—waves as well, albeit a bit more shyly than her sister.

Wooyoung doesn’t bother resisting the urge to coo aloud, lifting his hand to wave in a greeting of his own. “Hey girls!”

San sends him a warm smile, continuing on with his instructions. “Uncle Wooyoung is going to stay with you for a little bit while Daddy steps out, so I need you on your best behavior. Bedtime is in 30 minutes. The snack station is closed. Uncle Wooyoung will help you with everything you need, okay?”

”Okay!” The girls chirp in unison, their attention span visibly waning as they clearly itch to get back to their coloring. San snorts at their obvious impatience, noting how their gazes are slowly but surely shifting off of them and back onto their printed sheets.

“Alright, get back to your coloring. I need to talk with uncle Wooyoung for a bit.”

Wooyoung can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes him at the speed with which the girls turn back to their artwork, all curiosity gone from their minds as they focus back on their pages.

San turns to Wooyoung with a charming grin as he begins to unroll his shirt sleeves. “I’m sorry this is going so quickly—I’m kind of in a rush. Hm, let’s see…”

He begins to stroll towards the kitchen, and Wooyoung trails behind him eagerly, hanging off the man’s every word.

”They’re bathed and braided, and ate dinner already. These are their water bottles—“ he gestures towards two small bottles on the dazzlingly white marble island, the plastic pink and glittery, “—and they’ll need them refilled for bedtime. They sleep with their waters next to them in their cribs, and they know how to open and shut them, so don’t worry about spillage.”

Wooyoung nods along at San’s rapid-fire explanations, following after the man as he heads out of the kitchen, past the dining room and down a long hallway in the opposite direction. He leads Wooyoung into a large, dark bedroom. The lights flicker on to reveal an explosion of color and sparkles everywhere Wooyoung looks—stuffed animals, throw pillows, and other plush items of every color imaginable littering the floor.

”Sorry about the mess, I know it kind of looks like a crayola factory threw up in here. We didn’t get a chance to have clean-up time earlier in the day. Here, let me go ahead and turn on their nightlights and noise machine for you—“ San navigates around the twins bedroom swiftly, kicking several stuffed animals out of his path as he goes. Wooyoung simply observes the room with a quiet sense of awe.

These girls are truly so loved…

“Hayoung is nighttime potty trained, but Chorong is not yet. I put them both in pull-ups just in case, but I would recommend they both sit on the toilet before bedtime regardless. Their Alexa is connected, so for bedtime just ask it to play the ‘Sleepytime’ playlist. It’ll start off with two short audiobook fairytales, then transition into white noise. The girls will probably want you to stay with them until they fall asleep, but you’re absolutely free to sneak out of here when they’re either not looking or are asleep.”

Wooyoung chuckles lightly as San leads him out of the girls bedroom and back down the hall towards the living room. “And I think that’s pretty much it? I shouldn’t be gone past 11 P.M., and please feel free to help yourself to absolutely anything in the kitchen. We have a couple of streaming platforms plus regular cable on the tv for you to use. The WI-FI code is on the coffee table. And I won't be able to text much while I’m out, but send me a message if something urgent comes up, and I’ll step out to give you a call.”

San comes to a stop in front of the dining room once more, hands working swiftly to refasten his necktie. “Alright girls. I’ll come kiss you goodnight when you’re sleeping, but I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

”Okay!”

”Night night daddy!”

San swoops down to plant several gentle kisses on both of his daughters faces, the girls giggling with delight at the ticklish sensation. Wooyoung’s chest tightens with warmth and affection at the adorable scene.

”I love you so much. Make sure to behave for uncle Wooyoung!” San calls out, strolling out of the dining room and back towards the main entryway where they had started.

Wooyoung follows behind him diligently, feeling a bit dizzy from the whirlwind of information he has just consumed over the past five minutes. He watches as San grabs a set of keys out of a small bowl resting on a hall-table and grabs a crisp suit jacket off of the same table, no doubt one he had been wearing earlier in the day. Wooyoung is able to see his muscles rippling appealingly as he shrugs the jacket on, in spite of the dark, collared shirt that he wears mostly obstructing the tempting view.

Holy fucking shit, this man is insane…

“Again, feel free to message me any questions, and I’ll try and call you as soon as I’m able. I hope I’m not forgetting anything…?”

Wooyoung swallows harshly before letting out a small cough, attempting to clear his throat and his nerves under the undivided attention of the greek god standing before him. “Um, I do have one question. Which one is Hayoung, and which is Chorong…?”

San stares at him in absolute silence for a few, brief, moments before doubling over in laughter, his head tilting backwards in mirth as he gasps out, “Wow, I was really forgetting to even tell you who’s who.”

Wooyoung lets out a small laugh of his own, an easy grin stretching across his lips at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. “It’s okay, you’re in a rush. It’s totally easy for that to slip anyone’s mind.”

San’s dimples are on display once more as he sends Wooyoung an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Pink pajamas is Chorong, blue pajamas is Hayoung.”

Wooyoung nods, repeating the information back to himself mentally. “Got it.”

San opens the front door and begins to exit, shooting one last smile back at Wooyoung. “Thanks so much again for this Wooyoung.”

And with that, the man is gone.

Even once the door has shut, Wooyoung can’t help standing in the entranceway for a few extra moments, mind still reeling from the whirlwind that was Choi San.

I’m going to fucking kill Park Seonghwa…

Wooyoung shovels his mostly murderous thoughts towards his friend and somewhat inappropriate thoughts towards his new, temporary employer to the back of his mind, turning on his heel to return to the dining room.

Chorong and Hayoung are still peacefully coloring, with Chorong quietly singing bits and pieces of a children’s song Wooyoung doesn't recognize while Hayoung bops along in her seat to the melody. Their heads snap up once more, however, when they realize Wooyoung’s presence.

”Uncle Woo, sit!” Chorong begs, tapping the crayon in her hand against the table. Wooyoung obeys immediately, his cheeks somewhat hurting from how hard he’s grinning.

They really are so adorable.

“What are you two working on?” He asks casually, leaning across the table to try and get a better view of their current coloring sheets. “Ah, is that a unicorn Chorong?”

Chorong smiles as she nods in agreement, clearly proud of her coloring skills. Wooyoung stifles a laugh as he takes in the paper, noting the different colors and shapes that litter the sheet and how she has seemed to color everywhere but within the lines.

He turns to Hayoung’s sheet next, letting out a small coo of endearment. “Ah, is that a panda, Hayoung?”

Hayoung eyes him carefully, a small smile tugging at her face as mini dimples pop up on her cheeks. “Yes,” she agrees softly.

Wooyoung grins. “It’s a very beautiful panda. You two are doing such a good job on your coloring!”

”Thank you,” the girls chime in unison immediately, and Wooyoung barely manages to stop his heart from falling out of his chest at the adorableness of it all.

The night passes on fairly smoothly. Wooyoung gives the girls a ten-minute, then five-minute heads up for when bedtime will have to begin, and when it’s finally time, the girls help clean up without much of a fuss.

They’re a talkative and amusing pair, with Hayoung surprisingly being the more interactive of the two once she gets comfortable. The twins chat with him endlessly, telling him as much about their day and their favorite things as they can with the somewhat-limited vocabulary that three year olds possess.

”This is mommy,” Hayoung points to a medium-sized, digital photo frame propped up on one of the counters in the kitchen.

Wooyoung pauses in his actions of filling up their water bottles, stepping away from the fridge’s dispenser to lean down and squint at the photo before it disappears. It appears to have been taken somewhat recently, depicting the girls cuddled up on either side of a kind-looking woman, all three of them sporting massive grins as they pose for the camera.

Well, I was right about Chorong most likely looking like their mom.

“Wahh, look at you three!” Wooyoung enthuses, giving the girls an approving smile. “This is such a cute photo!”

Chorong grins back. “We love mommy a lot.”

”I bet you do…” Wooyoung trails off, debating internally for a few moments before deciding to just ask. “Do…do you see your mommy a lot?”

Okay. He knows it’s wrong to snoop for family info from some toddlers, who probably won’t even understand his questions in the first place. But he’s been dying of curiosity since he first stepped foot into this home, and it can’t help to gather at least some basic intel before he’s able to either ask San or Seonghwa…right?

”Mommy lives away,” Hayoung answers helpfully. “Some— sometimes we with mommy, sometimes we with daddy.”

”Ah,” Wooyoung nods in understanding. So their mother hasn’t passed away or anything. Most likely a separation then…?

He quickly finishes refilling the girls' waters before toting them off first to the restroom, then to their bedroom. True to San’s word, they request that he stay with them while they sleep. He agrees easily, making himself comfortable on the carpeted floor after tucking them in and dimming the lights. Their pre-selected audiobook thrums quietly in the background, and Wooyoung is barely paying attention to the words as he takes the opportunity to finally slip his phone out of his pocket.

He knows Seonghwa is probably mid-flight at the moment, but knowing Hongjoong, they’ve definitely paid for in-flight WiFi. He thumbs off a quick text.

Wooyoung: Hey

His suspicions are confirmed when his phone dings quietly with a response a few moments later.

Seonghwa: Hey Mary Poppins, how’re the girls?

Wooyoung: Good. They’re super sweet like you said

Seonghwa: See? You should listen to me more often

Wooyoung: You evil, backstabbing, son of a lovely lady

Seonghwa: ????

Wooyoung: I don’t wanna call your mom the B word, I love her

Seonghwa: No, I mean: UNPROVOKED?

Wooyoung: You didn’t tell me that your ‘Sannie’ is a DILF!!!

Seonghwa: LOLLLLL

Seonghwa: He is indeed a dilf, and Hwa is indeed evil - HJ

Wooyoung: Thank you for siding with me Hongjoong hyung

Seonghwa: Both of you shut up

Wooyoung: …

Wooyoung: …can I be nosey and ask you some stuff? About San?

Seonghwa: Omg you’re breaking up. The connection is so bad up here

Wooyoung: We’re texting, not talking on the phone dumb ass

Seonghwa: …Fine. What do you want to know?

Wooyoung: Is he married or something? Because holy shit he’s a sexy young dad and is kind of making me feel like an unvaccinated dog

Seonghwa: Gross

Seonghwa: And no, he isn’t!

Wooyoung: Huh…What happened between him and the mom?

Seonghwa: As a man, is it right for you to be this intrusive?

Wooyoung: I’ve never claimed to mind my own business. Just answer!!!

Seonghwa: Oops, looks like the line has dropped! TTYL Woo

Wooyoung: I hate you

It doesn’t take long after his short conversation with Seonghwa for the girls to fall completely asleep, and Wooyoung is able to sneak out of their bedroom with ease.

He hasn’t babysat often in recent years—what with him being in University and all—but in the past, he would typically pass the time by tidying up the house a bit. But as he concisely looks around the home, he finds that aside from the twins bedroom, the space is practically spotless. And what with the girls fast asleep, he can’t exactly begin picking up stray plushies and folding up blankets.

So, he finds himself in the living room, sprawled out on one of the sofas while a show he had selected at random plays on the large flatscreen. But after only one episode, he finds himself dangerously close to dozing off. His face flames at the mere thought of San coming home to the sight of him snoring on the sofa, so he pulls himself up and decides to find a more stimulating form of amusement.

Wooyoung wanders into the kitchen, briefly debating on whether or not to fix himself a cup of coffee, before ultimately deciding against it. The coffee machine nestled in the corner of the countertops seems expensive and complicated, and it would be for the best if he leaves the complex machinery alone. With nothing else coming to mind as to what he can do, Wooyoung resorts to his favorite hobby of all time.

Snooping.

He strolls into the living room, briefly taking closer note of the art pieces hung on the walls and displayed in cabinets. Next, he flops back onto the couch, snatching the photo album laying on the coffee table up and beginning to flip through its pages.

The book is filled with photos of San and his daughters, an elderly couple whom he assumes to be San’s parents, and a few other unrecognizable faces that must be some of San’s friends and colleagues. Wooyoung even spots Seonghwa’s face amongst the sea of photos a handful of times, and he snaps a closeup shot of each one with an amused snicker. The twins' mother also makes an appearance a few times in the booklet—though never as a solo shot—with another woman oftentimes next to her and the girls.

Once he has finally flipped through all that he can of the album, he returns it to its rightful place as he stands once more, continuing on with his snooping venture. He notes two, empty guest rooms that are tastefully done up, clearly ready and waiting for any visitors who may come by. He pointedly does not enter San’s bedroom. That would be a serious invasion of privacy, even for him. And so, with no other rooms left to explore, he finds himself standing before San’s home office. With the door left slightly ajar, he can see somewhat of the room's contents, but not nearly enough to satisfy his curiosity.

The door is literally open…It wouldn’t be a crime for me to take a small peek…right?

Wooyoung slips inside, switching on a lamp situated on the large, dark wooden desk against the far, back wall of the room. Turning on the overhead lights would be a bit too much—would shine a bit too much light and exposure on his current, nosey actions.

He gravitates towards the several bookshelves lining the walls—filled to the brim with literature Wooyoung finds to be too far out of his scope of knowledge. Next, he focuses on the multitude of frames also lining the walls, each one filled with a certificate or document of some kind rather than photographs. He blows out a whistle under his breath, impressed at the sheer quantity of them.

Who the hell is this guy? I know he’s a bit older than me, but he’s making me feel seriously unaccomplished right now.

He leans in to get a closer look at one of the frames, eyes widening in surprise as he reads the printed font and finds that it’s San’s doctorate degree diploma. His eyes nearly fall out of his head, however, as he notes the date at the bottom.

2016.

What the hell? I was only thirteen years old when this guy got his PhD? Is…is this guy some kind of super genius? I’ve never actually heard of a teenager graduating with a PhD before…

“How is that even possible…” Wooyoung mumbles quietly as he leans in even closer to attempt to read the fine print in such low lighting in the room.

“That degree was a nightmare to get.”

Wooyoung nearly leaps out of his skin—a startled yelp leaving his lips before he can help it—hand flying to his chest as he spins around to find San standing in the open doorway.

”Sorry!” Wooyoung immediately blurts out, face heating with embarrassment at being caught in the other man’s office. But San only lets out a gentle laugh, the sound deep and rich.

”Don’t worry, you’re fine.”

He crosses the room to stand next to Wooyoung, squinting at the framed diploma he had been studying moments earlier. “I hated the city where I completed this degree from. It was way too cold up there—I almost froze my balls off each winter.”

His unexpected words startle a laugh out of Wooyoung, and his shoulders drop in relaxation as he realizes that San is indeed not mad at him for poking around his office. “I hate snow too. I’m a cold blooded human, I need the sun.”

San looks over at him with a soft smile, his damned dimples making an appearance once more. In the low, warm glow of the single desk lamp, his magnetic charm and handsome features appear to be even more potent. Wooyoung swallows harshly, his smile faltering as he struggles and fails to reign in his rampant heart.

“I checked on the girls when I got back—they’re out like a light. I hope they didn’t give you too much trouble?”

Wooyoung shakes his head immediately. “No, not at all! They were so sweet.” A thought dawns on him, however, as he replays San’s words in his head once more, his blush deepening. “Wait. How long have you been home, exactly?”

It’s only now that he scans the older man’s appearance, noting the absence of the jacket he had dawned when he left earlier in the night—his necktie also missing and his shirtsleeves rolled up once more. He dons a pair of glasses now, the frames perched on his nose giving him a far cuter appearance than was fair for a man so attractive.

San lets out another chuckle as he begins to drift closer back towards the open office door, throwing Wooyoung a teasing grin. “Long enough to pour myself a glass of scotch and watch you rifle through my desk drawers.

Wooyoung’s eyes widen incredulously as he realizes the older man is poking fun at him. “I did not!” He protests with a laugh, resisting the sudden urge to throw a light smack his way in retaliation, because he really hadn’t! But he refrains from the action, because he doesn’t actually know San, and because that would be inappropriate as San is technically his employer for the night, and because he fears he would enjoy the feeling of San’s visibly firm biceps against his palm a bit too much.

He keeps his hands to himself.

San laughs again, stepping out into the hallway and tilting his head in invitation. “Want one?”

Wooyoung follows after him eagerly, because who the hell is he to turn down a free drink?

In the kitchen, San pulls out another crystal glass and sets it down on the countertop beside his own. “You didn’t drive here, correct?”

Wooyoung hums in confirmation.

”Is scotch okay? Or are you feeling something lighter? Maybe wine?”

Wooyoung slides onto a barstool seat, spinning it side-to-side in a childish fashion as he thinks. “Hm. I don’t really know much about wine. Do you have barefoot?”

San pauses in his motions of opening a built-in bar cabinet, sending Wooyoung a thinly veiled judgmental look over his shoulder. “Barefoot? How old are you?”

Wooyoung balks at the barb. “Twenty-two! Don’t judge me, barefoot is a perfectly acceptable wine to drink.”

San laughs, pulling out a bottle of red from the cabinet with a black label wrapped around it that Wooyoung doesn’t recognize. “Ah, twenty-two. Well, I’m going to change your worldview tonight.”

He swaps Wooyoung’s short, crystal glass out for an equally dignified wine glass, pouring a rich, red liquid into it before sliding it gently over to Wooyoung. “Here, try this.”

Wooyoung pouts playfully as he lifts the glass, taking a small sip at first, then a deeper sip. He pulls away, sending San a look of disapproval. “I think I like my barefoot better.”

San laughs. “I guess it’s an acquired taste.”

Wooyoung hums in agreement, but still takes another long sip of the glass’s contents. He doesn’t particularly enjoy dry wines, but he has a sneaking suspicion that the one San had just poured him is on the pricier side, and doesn’t want to waste it.

He spins gently in his chair, taking in the other man’s charming appearance from across the island. He knows this is the point in the evening where he’s supposed to finish his glass, give San his payment details, thank him for the evening, then book it out of there in order to catch the last subway at the station before it closes for the night.

But something is keeping him glued to his seat—unable to bring himself to wrap up the night. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it's that he ‘s enjoying himself a bit too much in this guy's apartment. Or maybe it’s the undeniable attraction he feels towards San, which keeps mounting as the night goes on. Whatever the cause may be, Wooyoung finishes his glass before clearing his throat and deciding to pop the question that’s been plaguing him since he first caught a glimpse of the date on San’s latest degree.

”So…” Wooyoung starts out, spine tingling with nerves. “You mentioned that your PhD was your hardest degree, right?” He squirms in his seat under the intense eye contact San has managed to catch him in.

”That’s right,” San agrees, lifting his glass to pour the last of its contents into his waiting mouth.

”I saw the date on it. How old were you when you got it? Are you like, some kind of academic genius?”

San’s head tilts slightly, clearly confused by the direction of Wooyoung’s line of questioning, but he answers regardless with a hint of amusement in his tone. “I was thirty. Does that qualify me as a genius?”

Wooyoung is mid-spin on his chair when the number leaves San’s mouth, and his hands quickly dart out to grip onto the edge of the countertop, lest he fall from his seat in surprise. “Thirty?! Are you fucking with me?”

San’s brows furrow, genuine confusion now written clearly across his face. “What’s wrong with that?”

Wooyoung gapes at him, but consciously remembers to lower his voice, mindful of the twins sleeping just down the other hall. “Show me your drivers license. There’s no way you’re not bullshitting me right now.”

San pulls out a black, leather wallet from his side pocket—sliding it across the countertop to Wooyoung’s side. “Look for yourself.”

Wooyoung flips the wallet open, quickly locating the man’s ID in the front cover. He pointedly does not ogle at the matte, black credit card he can see peeking out from the sleeve right behind it. He slides the license out, zeroing in on the date of birth. 1986.

His head whips up in surprise as he stares at San in awe. “You’re thirty-nine?”

San eyes him warily, but still amused. “Yes? What’s wrong with that?”

Wooyoung shakes his head vehemently, mouth still parted in awe. “Please don’t take offense to what I’m about to say, but—I thought you were in your late twenties, max. Like, when you opened the door, I thought you were the neighbor or something.”

San stares at him for several seconds in absolute silence before dissolving into laughter, the deep sound of his voice echoing in the kitchen. Wooyoung slips the ID back into the wallet, sliding it back across the marble countertop towards him. “I’m being serious! You have a mirror, you know what you look like. There’s no way you’re not pranking me right now.”

”Ah, you are so good for my ego sweetheart,” San finally responds breathlessly, running a hand through his thick, black hair. “I’m not pranking you, I promise.”

Wooyoung, tragically, feels his dick twitch violently in his jeans at the term of endearment, his face instantly flushing. All thoughts of professionalism and propriety flee his mind and are replaced with something far less savory as he ducks his head, attempting to somewhat hide his burning cheeks.

Get a grip, he only meant it in a sweet way.

“I need to see further proof,” Wooyoung insists once he’s sure his face isn’t seconds away from bursting into flames, finally looking back up again at the older man. He sends him a dramatically distrusting stare.

”I just showed you my license, what more proof can I give you?” San asks, dimples on full display as he humors Wooyoung. “Do you want to flip through my high school yearbook?”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “I don’t know. Show me some grey hairs or something.”

San’s hand drifts up towards his hair once more. “Sorry, but I just got dyed a few days ago. I don’t think any of my greys survived the salon visit, otherwise there'd be plenty for you to ogle at.”

“You dye your hair?” Wooyoung gasps, feeling strangely betrayed by the news. “Why? You already look so good now, imagine you all silvered up.”

Wooyoung knows he’s definitely toeing the line of decency with his words, but San’s easy-going demeanor and the glass of wine he’d had are loosening his tongue, and he finds he feels comfortable enough to speak openly.

”Gotta keep having people mistake me as the neighbor,” San cracks, resting his elbows against the cool island surface as he leans down. “You think I look good?”

Wooyoung freezes up at the direct call out of his compliment, and he physically feels his face warm in embarrassment. He begins to splutter indignantly, waving his hands to emphasize his words. “Well- I mean. You know what you look like!”

A single brow raises on San’s face as he studies Wooyoung’s clearly flustered state, before he shakes his head slowly, letting out another chuckle. “So good for my ego,” he mutters under his breath as he rises, turning away from Wooyoung to refill his glass.

Wooyoung blows out a small breath of air, relieved at no longer being in the proverbial hot seat. He feels his smartwatch bzzt gently against his wrist, and when he spares a quick glance down, he nearly snorts aloud at the notification he finds waiting for him.

High Heart Rate: It looks like you’re working out. Record exercise?

I’ll fucking say…

He raises himself off his seat a bit, leaning forwards to slide his own empty glass back over towards San. “I’ll take a refill too.”

San eyes him over the rims of his glasses as he looks up, grabbing Wooyoung’s glass and considering him quietly. “More wine?” He asks, shaking the glass teasingly.

Wooyoung pulls a face, feigning a gag. “No thanks, I’ll try some scotch.”

San laughs at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t think you’ll be more fond of the scotch than the wine, even if I dilute it a bit.”

Wooyoung crosses his arms with a huff, an overly exaggerated pout tugging at his lips. He’s enjoying this playful back-and-forth banter he’s got going with San immensely, and is in no rush to end it by any means. “I’ll try a little sip then, and decide if I want more.”

San grins, closing his eyes for a few brief moments of exasperation before reopening them. “Alright, come over here and try a sip of mine sweetheart.”

Wooyoung swivels his chair to slide off smoothly, making his way around the island to San’s side eagerly.

”Don’t tell Seonghwa about this. He made me promise to take care of you, and I don’t think getting you drunk falls into that category,” San admits amusedly, handing Wooyoung his own glass to taste from.

Indirect kiss, Wooyoung’s traitorous brain supplies unhelpfully as he raises the glass to his lips.

”Ignore Seonghwa-hyung. He’s a bit too much like a mother bear most days,” Wooyoung cracks. “Also, I can handle my liquor pretty well, don’t worry.” With that, he tilts his head back to pour some of the pale, golden liquid into his waiting mouth. His face crinkles up immediately, and he hears San laugh as his eyes shut in disgust.

”That bad, huh?”

”Gah, it burns. And tastes like smoke,” Wooyoung blindly shoves the glass back into San’s waiting hands. “I’ll just have a beer at this point.”

San laughs again, and Wooyoung peels his eyes open in time to see the older man stalk towards his refrigerator to pull a cold can out for him.

”I’ll call a cab for you, so don’t worry about making it to the subway in this state,” San reassures him, and Wooyoung faintly feels embarrassed as he remembers that right—he’s not just here to drink and flirt with the man all night. “I think it’s a bit too late for you to make the last train anyways.”

He waves off San’s offer. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll just call one of my roommates to come get me. Both Mingi and Yeosang have cars, so it’s not a big deal.” He cracks his can open, taking a long sip of the familiar brand’s content.

”Nonsense. You did me a huge favor tonight, and were so great with my girls. The least I can do alongside paying you is order you a ride home. Let your roommates sleep, it’s late.”

Wooyoung snorts at his words. “It’s a Friday night, I promise you neither of them are sleeping right now.”

San runs a hand through his hair in an almost sheepish manner, chuckling lightly. “Right. I suppose you guys wouldn’t be in bed this early on a weekend, huh.”

Nodding in agreement, Wooyoung takes another sip of his drink. “I guess your weekends are pretty full, right?”

San smiles at that. “It depends. I typically have my girls with me, so yes. But if it’s a weekend when they’re with their mother and stepmom, I have a bit more time to sleep in and such.”

Wooyoung barely manages to rein his expression into one of normalcy, and not one of a cheshire cat about to pounce on a canary as he sees his chance to smoothly segue into a conversation about one of his most pressing questions regarding the man.

”So, when did you and the girl’s mother split up?”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t as smooth as it could’ve been.

Wooyoung flushes with embarrassment immediately at his clumsy words, and he quickly thinks of a way for him to backtrack without reversing all of the good vibes he had managed to get flowing between he and San.

San’s outward expression doesn’t change much, but he does take a moment's pause to casually take a sip of his own drink before responding. “No. We were never together to begin with.”

”Ah,” Wooyoung lets out quietly, unsure what to say next. He wants to prod a bit more, to dig deeper, but he doesn’t want to overstep the older man’s boundaries…more than I already have.

“I met their mother at a week-long, applied ethics conference four years ago, and we hit it off as friends. The girls were an unexpected surprise, but I don’t regret them. Not ever.”

Ah. So it was a fling…?

Wooyoung nods in understanding. He can’t imagine what a jarring situation that must have been, and from what he can tell from when he flipped through the photo album and San’s reserved words, it doesn’t appear as though the girl's mother is around much.

”Oh, I see,” Wooyoung hums. “I’m…I’m guessing their mom isn’t around that often?”

San smiles wryly at his words, looking down into his glass as he seemingly struggles to find the right words. “She- well, she loves the girls a lot. I don’t doubt that. But she wasn’t—isn’t—ready to be a mother, and neither is her new wife. So she gave me full custody of our daughters without a fight, and she comes to see them when she’s able to. I don’t blame her, and never will. I was ready to be a father, so it all worked out in the end.”

Oh my god…

Wooyoung’s heart pangs sadly as he digests San’s words, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t prodded into the man’s personal life after all. But…Choi San is nothing like what he had anticipated, and in spite of everything he’s managed to learn about the man, he can’t help but feel even more drawn to him.

”Don’t give me that look,” San laughs openly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he sends Wooyoung a look full of mirth. Wooyoung is pulled out of his thoughts instantly, squawking indignantly.

”What look?”

”That kicked-puppy look. It’s all good sweetheart, there’s no heartbreak story happening over here, so don’t worry about it.”

Wooyoung laughs lightly, head ducking a bit in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I still kind of want to give you a hug though.”

San laughs again at his words. “My little story moved you that much, huh? I should probably pay you for the therapy session too,” He teases, reaching out to push against Wooyoung’s shoulder playfully. “What about you? Any sad stories you need to get off your chest?”

Wooyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “Ah, not really. My last relationship was over a year ago—and it ended on good terms—so there’s not much for me to talk about on the ‘sad’ front.”

San nods, placing his mostly full glass down, and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “By the way, what form of payment do you take, and how much do I owe you? It’s okay if it’s cash, I think I have several bills laying around here somewhere…”

Wooyoung’s heart droops a bit as he realizes his night is coming to an end, and he takes another sip of his drink. “Uh, digital is fine. Here, I’ll put my info in for you-“

After successfully putting his payment details into San’s phone, and haggling with the professor to lower the price as the man attempted to pay him way too much, he realizes that there’s nothing else for him to do other than take a cab home. He doesn’t feel ready quite yet to part with the man…

The sad pang in his chest quickly dissipates, however, as San appears to also be unwilling to send him home quite yet.

”Take your time with your drink,” He nods at the half-full can in Wooyoung’s hand. “There’s no rush.”

Wooyoung nods happily, taking yet another tiny sip of his drink.

Anything to drag this night on.

“Are you not going to have any more of yours?” He questions, gesturing towards San’s own forgotten glass on the counter.

”My tolerance has never been great to begin with, and it’s definitely not what it used to be a few years ago. It’s best that I don’t,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair almost shyly.

Wooyoung lets out a teasing coo. “Awe, are you a lightweight? Finally, something in life I can confidently say I beat you in.”

San sends him a roguish look, brows raised. “The fact that alcohol consumption is the one category you have me beat in says a lot.”

Wooyoung mock gasps—and really does go to smack San’s arm this time—but is caught off guard when the older man’s own hand playfully darts out to grab his wrist, effectively stopping it mid motion.

The unexpected strength of his grip jolts Wooyoung’s body from where he stands, and he feels the cold sensation of liquid soaking the front of his shirt before he realizes what has happened.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to grab you that hard. Here—“ San apologizes profusely, dropping his hand instantly to grab a hand towel out of a nearby drawer and pressing it against Wooyoung’s dripping front.

Wooyoung blinks in surprise, before letting out a small cackle. “Look what you’ve done now, Professor.”

San sends him an exasperated look as he continues to try and wipe off the spilt beer from Wooyoung’s shirt. “This is your fault. You started it.”

San eventually gives up on his efforts, standing back and eyeing his shirt with a critical look.

“I can’t let you ride home smelling like a bar. Give me a moment—I’ll get you a clean shirt.”

He turns on his heel, disappearing out of the kitchen and down the adjacent hallway towards his bedroom, Wooyoung assumes. He returns a minute later, a plain black t-shirt clutched triumphantly in his grasp. He offers it to Wooyoung apologetically.

“Here. Sorry about your shirt. I can throw it for a quick cycle in the washer and dryer if that’ll help?”

Wooyoung laughs, waving his frantic concerns off easily. “Don’t worry about it. Believe it or not, most of my Friday nights usually end with beer down the front of my shirt anyways.”

It’s as Wooyoung is receiving the shirt in hand that a new dilemma dawns on him.

Shit…Where the hell do I change from?

He’s extremely attracted to San. That much is obvious from his accelerated heart rate and the near-permanent blush on his cheeks. So he can’t just…strip in front of him.

But wouldn’t it look stranger for him to excuse himself to change in the bathroom? After all, they’re both men. And, judging by their interactions this night alone, Wooyoung is pretty sure he can count the older man as a new friend.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

After internally deliberating for a few moments, Wooyoung decides to simply bite the bullet, and tugs his soaked shirt over his head swiftly.

It’s not like he’s ashamed of his body, or anything. It’s actually an area he’s quite confident in. He exercises as regularly as he can. He’s been told he’s attractive by many, and is truthfully never short in options when it comes to his love life.

But it’s the principle of the matter. He’d feel shy removing even a winter coat around San, let alone his damn shirt. Now that he’s certain he has a little crush going for the professor, the last thing he wants is the man’s undivided attention on him as he stands before him half naked.

San holds up a hand to halt Wooyoung’s movements, grabbing a fresh towel and running it under warm water before wringing it out and pressing it against his bare chest. Wooyoung freezes up, caught off guard by the close proximity once more and the unexpected direct contact with his skin.

So, I guess this is something we’re doing now…

He stands still as he lets San wipe his bare chest and abdomen free of the sticky substance, scrubbing away gently until none of the beer residue remains. This close up, he can smell San’s cologne clearly—a musky, rich scent that makes him immediately want to curl into the man.

He decidedly does not focus on how San’s free hand rests on his ribcage gently, the heat of San’s palm scorching hot against his chilled skin.

He feels his dick twitch with interest in his jeans once more. Fuck.

“There,” San says gently, pulling back with a hard-to-read expression. He looks up at Wooyoung, gaze intense as he pulls him into heated eye contact. “All clean.”

Wooyoung nods jerkily, throat bobbing as he struggles to get his vocal chords back into a functioning state.

“Are you okay?” San asks, head tilting slightly in confused concern.

Wooyoung nods again, taking a small step back. He feels his internal panic rising almost as quickly as the aching hard-on he’s developing.

Oh my fucking god. I cannot seriously be popping a boner in front of this guy.

“I- I’m just gonna,” He gestures shakily towards the general direction of the guest bathroom, before scurrying off towards it.

“Wooyoung?” San calls after him, but Wooyoung ignores him, not stopping until he’s safely locked away behind the closed bathroom door.

He lets out a quiet groan as he unzips his pants—because getting hard while wearing jeans fucking hurts—before gripping the sink counter tightly and dropping his head down. He shuts his eyes tightly as he begins to wordlessly count to one-hundred, silently willing his heart rate to go back down, as well as his now-raging boner.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a quiet knock on the bathroom door.

“Wooyoung?” He hears San call quietly from the other side of the door. Wooyoung hisses out a quiet whimper of panic, not expecting the older man to come looking for him so soon.

“Uh, just a minute!” He calls unsteadily, reaching down frantically to begin readjusting himself in his boxers so that his hard cock isn’t that obvious.

San remains silent for a few seconds longer before—

“Did…did I make you feel uncomfortable? I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung freezes at the man's words, and the vulnerable tone in his voice.

He doesn’t pause to think before he’s swiftly unlocking the door and yanking it open—quickly forgetting that he’s still shirtless, with his jeans wide open to reveal his boxers and poorly hidden boner.

“What?” Wooyoung asks breathlessly, confusedly. San’s eyes briefly drop down, taking in the new extent of Wooyoung’s state of undress, before quickly darting back up towards his face. Wooyoung isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light pouring into the dimmed hallway from the bathroom, but he’s almost certain he sees a slight dusting of blush present on the older man's cheeks.

San clears his throat gently, readjusting the frames on his face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I went too far—I misread the room. I’ll go ahead and call you that cab now.”

“No!” Wooyoung protests, albeit a bit too loudly considering it’s well into the night, and San’s daughters are fast asleep on the other side of the house. San jolts slightly in surprise at the urgency and volume of Wooyoung’s objection.

He swallows before trying again, in a calmer tone.

“You…you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. And you didn’t misread the room. What the hell do you think I’m doing in here?”

San blinks.

Wooyoung shifts awkwardly at the prolonged silence, not missing the way San’s eyes drop once more to the obvious outline in his jeans, before slowly trailing back up to his face. He swallows, adams apple bobbing.

”What-,” he starts, then takes a small breath, “What are you saying?”

Wooyoung lets out a helpless laugh. “I’m saying you’re so hot that I almost whacked myself in the face with my boner?”

Wow. Real smooth, Wooyoung.

San’s confused and concerned expression slowly melts into one of smug understanding—lips twitching into a slow and knowing smile. He raises an arm above his head to support his weight as he leans against the open bathroom doorframe. His eyes slowly rake over Wooyoung’s bare torso once more, and Wooyoung resists the urge to cross his arms over his chest from shyness.

He then leans closer—crossing the threshold of the door—reaching inside to flick the bathroom lights off. Wooyoung finds the small space instantly bathed in darkness, leaving only the heat of his body and the sound of his breathing between them. His disorientation doesn’t last for long, however, when he feels a warm hand press gently against the bare skin of his waist.

San’s other hand cradles his jaw  in the dim space, fingers curling gently against his cheek and throat.

“Can I kiss you?” San’s voice is low, deep, and suddenly so close that Wooyoung swears he can feel it vibrate against his lips.

Wooyoung’s knees nearly buckle at the deep baritone of his voice.

“Yes,” Wooyoung whispers, already tipping forward. “Please.”

Wooyoung’s heart hammers against his chest at the first press of San’s lips against his own. It’s slow, almost testing—but it sets his pulse racing, heart nearly giving out. His mind swims with heady heat as he melts into the gentle touch of San’s hand against his cheek, allowing his head to be guided into whatever angle San deems fit.

San groans softly as he uses his grip on Wooyoung’s waist to tug him in closer, pressing their chests against one another. The kiss grows heated and messy rather quickly, and Wooyoung finds his lips parting easily at the light pressure of San’s tongue against the seam. Groaning into the kiss at Wooyoung’s easy compliance, San slowly tugs Wooyoung out of the bathroom and out into the hallway, pressing him against the wall with the firm weight of his body as they continue to make out.

The kiss turns hotter, messier. Wooyoung’s fingers curl into the back of San’s shirt, tugging him in even closer until their bodies are properly flushed together. He whimpers as San bites down on his bottom lip, dragging the motion out as he pulls away breathlessly.

”Do you want to move to my bedroom?” San’s voice is rough, eyes visibly dark, even in the dim lighting. Wooyoung finds himself nodding—agreeing to San’s every word—before he’s even able to process the question properly.

”Fuck yes,” He blurts, earning a quiet snort from San at his obvious eagerness.

Entering San’s bedroom down the hall, the older man wastes no time in tugging Wooyoung into the space and pressing him against the shut door behind him. He doesn’t bother turning on any lights, the curtains drawn open to reveal a beautiful view of the sprawling city surrounding his building complex. But Wooyoung doesn’t get much of a chance to observe his new surroundings with awe. He lets his hands roam freely as they continue to kiss—decisive. He tugs insistently at San’s shirt collar, a quiet demand. He wants it off.

When San finally pulls back, Wooyoung tries desperately to not enter cardiac arrest as the man begins to slowly unbutton his shirt—eyes locked with Wooyoung’s. Each new inch of tanned, toned skin being revealed causes Wooyoung to press his thighs together, helplessly trying to alleviate the ache between his legs. His breath catches, eyes scanning over San’s broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and defined abdomen. San’s eyes remain fixed on him as he tugs his shirt free from his body, and Wooyoung feels utterly pinned in place by the predatory look he finds written on the older man's face.

Seriously, how is this man so hot?

With both of their upper bodies now free of any clothing, Wooyoung drags San back down for another heated kiss, but it doesn’t last long as he feels the man's hands come to rest firmly under his ass and lift.

“Gah-!” Wooyoung yelps in surprise as San lifts him easily into the air, and he instinctively wraps his legs around the other man’s waist to stabilize himself.

Wooyoung has never had someone lift him like this before—as if he weighs nothing. Of course, his friends Mingi and Yeosang frequently flex their gym progress by tossing him around playfully. But they’ve always slung him over their shoulders potato-sack style. Not the way San is currently carrying him over towards his bed. As if he’s fragile, as if he’s something to be treasured.

When San deposits Wooyoung down gently near the edge of the bed, he feels almost disappointed by the sudden distance between them—but the brief feeling dissipates instantly as San nudges his legs apart to situate himself between them. His chest is tinged pink with a severe blush, muscled pectorals visibly rising and falling with each breath. Wooyoung is sure he doesn’t look much better, the desperation running through his veins surely making him a sight for sore eyes. He tries not to squirm under the intensity of San’s gaze as he considers him quietly—calculating eyes raking up and down Wooyoung’s frame.

He prays he isn’t making a stupid expression unknowingly.

”How far do you want to go, sweetheart?” San asks quietly, the timber of his voice seemingly reverberating in the otherwise silent room.

Wooyoung swallows once, clearing his throat before answering honestly. “I really want you to fuck me.”

San nods once, reaching up to tug his glasses free from his face and run a hand through his hair and holy fucking shit, I’m literally going to come in my pants like a damn teenager if he keeps this up…

Wooyoung mourns the loss of warmth between his legs as San steps away to place his glasses properly atop his nightstand, before tugging the top drawer open and retrieving familiar items. The casual, controlled motion of it all sends a bolt of heat through Wooyoung. He tosses the small bottle of lube and two condom packets onto the bed beside them as he returns to Wooyoung’s side, and Wooyoung swallows harshly as he stares at the supplies. A thrill of want and excitement runs through him, because holy shit, this gorgeous, sexy man actually wants to fuck him?

San’s leg presses intensely against Wooyoung’s clothed cock as he leans over him, nudging Wooyoung gently backwards until his bare back meets the soft comforter below, and San is able to hover over him comfortably. Their next kiss makes him feel dizzy—lightheaded in a way that muddles his thoughts and lets him know that all the blood in his body is definitely rushing downwards and not upwards.

San’s hands firmly pin Wooyoung’s hips down as he presses against him further, and Wooyoung moans into San’s mouth at the much needed contact, but he doesn’t let that distract him from letting his hands wander on the older man’s body freely. San clearly works out, his frame so much larger and heavier than Wooyoung’s own. His muscles feel warm and firm beneath Wooyoung’s curious hands, thick in a way that Wooyoung loves.

”You are so fucking hot,” he pants as he pulls back from San’s distracting kisses, looking the older man in the eyes because he needs San to understand how deadly he is. San laughs loudly at this, shaking his head with what can only be amusement.

”Thank’s sweetheart. You are too,” he returns easily, a twinkle in his eye that suggests he finds Wooyoung’s words amusing.

”Like. If you ever want a third kid, hit me up. Scientists haven’t discovered a way for men to get pregnant yet, but I’m sure we could figure it out if we try hard enough.”

San sends him an odd look at that, but he simply pinches Wooyoung’s waist with a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

And Wooyoung doesn’t really care if San thinks he’s kind of nutty, because he’s so goddamn horny that he really will combust on the spot if they don’t do something.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts as he feels fingers hook into the waistband of his jeans, tugging at them gently. “Can I take these off?

Wooyoung nods desperately. “Please.”

He assists San in sliding the denim down, kicking the fabric from his legs off to the side once fully discarded. San groans softly—trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down the slopes and divots of Wooyoung’s neck and collarbone. Wooyoung moans as San pays extra attention to a sensitive spot just below his ear, his whole frame shivering with pleasure.

San’s left hand begins to slowly trail down Wooyoung’s torso, and he feels San grin against his neck as he brushes a gentle kiss over one of his nipples—the heat and pressure pulling a shameless gasp from him. His touch continues downwards until it rests over Wooyoung’s covered bulge, the heat of San’s palm discernible even through his boxers. Wooyoung keens lewdly at the pressure of San palming him, and he quickly feels a prominent wet spot forming on his loose briefs as precome leaks steadily from the head of his cock.

“Nngh,” Wooyoung whimpers, hands feeling restless where they grip the sheets below him. So, he lets them wander—starting from running his fingers through strands of San’s hair to trailing down his broad and defined shoulders, over his muscular back, until they finally come to rest on his slim waist.

“Enjoying yourself?” San asks breathlessly, pulling back and hovering over Wooyoung as Wooyoung’s hands circle around to the front, beginning to tug insistently at San’s zipper because he wants his slacks off. San chuckles at his impatience and clumsy hands, knocking them away to do it himself. “Alright, relax baby boy—I’ve got it.”

Wooyoung whines audibly at the pet name, gripping San’s forearms tightly. “Well then hurry the fuck up.”

San laughs at his words, drawing back to undress properly. Wooyoung shivers, suddenly feeling chilly without San’s body heat surrounding him. But the visuals he’s blessed with more than make up for it. The sight of San standing there—shirtless, dress slacks undone and halfway down his muscular thighs, eyes fixed on Wooyoung like he’s the only thing in the room—makes Wooyoung’s mouth run dry. San kicks his pants off swiftly, and Wooyoung lets out a giggle as San hooks his arms under Wooyoung’s own and bodily drags him to the center of the mattress—situating him against the mountain of pillows on his bed gently.

“Caveman,” Wooyoung teases, letting out a small shriek moments later when San retaliates by biting down on his collarbone, hard.

His mirth quickly dissipates into desperation, however, when San forcefully shifts his legs apart, dragging Wooyoung closer to him and hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“Want me to take these off?” He murmurs quietly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin of Wooyoung’s waist. And Wooyoung feels like he’s dying in the absolute best of ways—brain feeling short-circuited from the duality between San’s visuals, and the gentle way with which he treats him.

Wooyoung doesn’t respond verbally, taking the initiative to eagerly slide his boxers down and off his legs, leaving himself open and exposed for San’s viewing. His neglected cock rests heavily against his stomach, fully flushed and sticky at the tip. San stares him down hungrily, gripping his legs to spread them apart even further.

Wooyoung feels open and exposed like this—even in the dim lighting of the bedroom, he feels as though San can see all of him.

“Want me to prep you? Or would you rather do it yourself?” San asks casually, grabbing the discarded bottle of lube and popping the cap open, the click of the plastic echoing in the air.

Wooyoung doesn’t even need to think about his response. “You, please.”

San hums in acknowledgment, placing the bottle down in lieu of grabbing a condom packet and ripping it open swiftly. Wooyoung watches as he slides it over his index and pointer fingers before drizzling a generous amount of lube over the digits. San shuffles closer in between his spread legs, and a whine gets caught in Wooyoung’s throat as he feels the first gentle touch of pressure against his sensitive hole.

Fuck.

San starts off slow, merely rubbing small circles on and around Wooyoung’s entrance, getting him used to the sensation. When he feels as though his body has warmed up to the stimulation, he begins to press forward.

The first press is slow, deliberate—San’s gaze flickering up to watch Wooyoung’s face for any signs of discomfort. Wooyoung keens loudly, because San is stretching him with two fingers right off the bat holy shit, but he doesn’t squirm away, too ensnared in his mounting pleasure to even think of complaining. Not when he feels this good already.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” San praises gently, withdrawing his fingers only to slide them back in firmly. He starts off at a steady pace, and Wooyoung is barely able to hold back his embarrassing noises because each movement of San’s fingers feels so good, the fullness of the stretch against his walls causing him to shift restlessly from where he lays on his back. It doesn’t take long for his body to adjust to San’s coaxing thrusts, and the older man withdraws his fingers entirely before sliding back in with three.

Wooyoung’s back arches clean off the mattress, a loud and desperate whine pulled deep from his chest escaping him because San’s fingers are curling, brushing against that spot inside him that feels so fucking good. San’s gaze intensifies, interest piqued, and he hones in on each of Wooyoung’s reactions—every minute twitch and micro expression he makes as he continues to brush against that same spot.

“Feels good right here, sweetheart?” San’s voice rumbles out, and Wooyoung nods desperately, hips shifting in small grinding moments as he tries to get San’s fingers even deeper. He exhales shakily, muscles loosening and tensing simultaneously with each thrust. San obliges him easily, pressing deeper, massaging Wooyoung’s prostate until he’s an absolute mess—all hiccups and moans that he can’t hold back.

San pays no attention to Wooyoung’s heavy and leaking cock, going as far as to snatch Wooyoung’s hands away and pin them over his head against the mountain of pillows firmly when he attempts to take care of himself.

”But-!” Wooyoung begins to protest, but San hushes him instantly with a wet kiss.

”Be good for me, Wooyoung. Trust me—it’ll feel better this way.”

Wooyoung feels like an exposed circuit, sobbing around a hiccup at the never ending stimulation against his now swollen prostate. He has nowhere to run—nowhere to hide. Not with his legs spread wide around San’s frame, his toes curling and his arms pinned firmly above his head.

As Wooyoung begins to grow closer to his peak, he tries to squirm away from San’s unrelenting fingers, the pleasure too much, too intense. But San holds him still, using his grip on his arms to press forward and pin him down even further—spreading his legs open wider as he hovers over Wooyoung.

“Are you close?” San asks neutrally—knowingly. His gaze has yet to leave Wooyoung’s face, taking in every shift, every gasp of pleasure, every overwhelmed shudder.

Wooyoung nods, vision now blurry with tears. He doesn’t think he can speak—hell, he can barely even think. But he doesn’t want this night to end so soon—wants to drag out this moment for as long as he can.

So he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes firmly, attempting to stave off the tightening coil in his stomach for as long as possible.

But San sees through his desperate plan easily, tsking gently and increasing the speed of his fingers. Wooyoung keens loudly, mouth falling open with debauched pants and whines as his back begins to arch away from the mattress below them.

“Go ahead and let go, baby boy. I’ll make you come again.”

Wooyoung whines at San’s whispered promise against his ear, at the gentle kiss he presses against Wooyoung’s cheek.

As the pressure building within Wooyoung begins to meet a boiling point, his eyes fly open in alarm because something…doesn’t feel quite right. He’s close, right on the precipice of pleasure. So close that he’s sure he’ll be free falling over the edge in a matter of seconds. But…he feels as though he has to urinate. Which is impossible—right? He’s never been able to piss while hard (he’s yet to hear of any man who’s able to accomplish that feat), and it’s not like he had to pee before at any point in the night. So—?

His panicked questions are answered a moment later when he breaks.

Wooyoung’s body curls in on itself involuntarily as he comes, his frame shaking and hips jutting against San’s fingers as he rides out his intense orgasm. His cock twitches hard against his abdomen, spurts of clear, seminal fluid shooting out of his tip as he fucking squirts, unable to come properly due to the lack of stimulation on his aching cock.

San lets out a clearly pleased groan at the sight, a quiet “Shit, look at you baby boy,” escaping into the air as Wooyoung continues to writhe against the sheets below them. Wooyoung is equally surprised by his orgasm. He’s never had his prostate stimulated in such an intense way, never knew he was even capable of squirting.

But it seems as though San is intent on keeping Wooyoung on his toes with surprises all night long.

He sobs around his moans as he begins to float down from his high, sniffling as San releases his wrists gently and hovers over him, brushing his sweaty bangs off of his heated forehead.

“There you go. You did so well for me sweetheart.”

Wooyoung lets out a small noise of acknowledgement, eyes still blurry with tears as he stares up at San dazedly.

“What do you say, Wooyoung?”

“Nngh?” Wooyoung slurs confusedly, still feeling as though he’s drifting above the crowds.

San leans closer over him, purposefully moving his fingers where they still rest inside Wooyoung, brushing against his abused prostate and drawing a loud whimper of protest from him in the process.

“What should you say to me for helping you feel so good?”

Wooyoung’s mind races before slowing—finally catching onto what it is San is looking for.

Holy shit.

“T-thank you San,” he stutters out quietly, almost shyly.

San presses a gentle kiss against Wooyoung’s lips, murmuring a soft “good boy” before drawing back.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from Wooyoung’s hole, groaning audibly as he watches the way his ass clenches down against the movement—begging for him to remain inside.

After discarding the condom, Wooyoung’s view is shifted as San shifts backwards, his legs lowering down to the mattress as the elder man moves to sit beside him against the headboard. He drags Wooyoung atop his lap until he’s effectively straddling him, tucking his face down securely against San’s neck as San wraps his arms around him snugly.

Wooyoung whines quietly as San presses warm kisses against his neck and holds him close, petting his hair gently as he lets Wooyoung catch his breath—calming down from his intense peak.

It isn’t until Wooyoung draws back a bit, pout on his lips that San speaks again.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Good,” Wooyoung mumbles softly.

“Are you still feeling up to more?”

Wooyoung melts at the question, because San is firmly putting Wooyoung’s needs above his own. He can tell by the honest expression reflecting in his dark eyes and the genuine tone of his question that he’s content to not go any further if Wooyoung isn’t up to it—in spite of the hard length Wooyoung can clearly feel pressing against his ass.

Wooyoung nods without hesitation. “Yes, please.”

San looks him over briefly, scanning his appearance—perhaps double checking to make sure Wooyoung is indeed in a good enough state to go again. He must be satisfied with what he finds because he hums in satisfaction before drawing Wooyoung into a messy kiss. Wooyoung lets his body be manipulated easily as San leans forwards, pressing their chests together. He grabs the discarded lube and another condom off the sheets behind them.

Shifting Wooyoung further back on his thighs gently, he breaks their kiss to rip open the condom and slide it over his own aching cock. Wooyoung eyes it hungrily, chest pounding as he notes its impressive length and girth. He can tell easily—even in the dull lighting of the bedroom—that it’s bigger than his largest toy in his own little collection, and he licks his lips in anticipation.

He needs it inside him now.

San slicks himself up, shifting forward with a small smirk as he finishes.

“Gonna ride me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yes,” Wooyoung damn near begs, shifting forwards to grind against San’s cock needily.

“Go ahead.” San permisses, leaning back against the headboard behind him casually, giving Wooyoung free reign to do what he pleases.

How is this man so goddamn perfect?

Wooyoung brackets his knees firmly against the mattress around San’s waist, lifting himself up until he’s able to grip San’s hard cock, guiding it to press against his hole. He lowers himself slowly onto the length, breath stuttering in his lungs at the immense pressure. In spite of the three fingers San had given him for prep, and the orgasm he’d had as a result to help relax, San is still too much for him.

“Fuck—there you go sweetheart. So good for me,” San rasps deeply in praise, hands pressed tightly against Wooyoung’s waist as he sheathes himself entirely inside of Wooyoung’s wet, tight heat.

Wooyoung moans loudly as he bottoms out, thick heat stretching him in a way that steals his breath.

“You okay?” San checks in, voice low and steady.

“Mmh,” Wooyoung hums in confirmation. “Just…big.”

San lets out an amused huff at Wooyoung’s words, and Wooyoung giggles quietly as he allows himself to adjust to the stretch. When he finally feels as though he’s not seconds away from crying, his hands reach out to grip onto the older man’s shoulders. He uses them as leverage to help lift himself up, dropping down with a deep thrust a moment later.

From there, it’s a desperate rhythm. San aids Wooyoung’s movements as he bounces on his cock, debauched moans and whines pushed from his parted lips with each movement. Wooyoung’s prostate aches in the best of ways as it’s stimulated once more, but it all comes to a head far too quickly as San wraps a slick hand around Wooyoung’s stiff cock.

“San—! F-fuck, wait, I-“ Wooyoung moans, tears beginning to spill from his eyes at the overwhelming sensation of finally having his cock touched. His desperate bounces begin to slow, far too affected by the new stimulation to continue at the pace he had originally set.

San leans in, pressing his lips against Wooyoung’s. “Are you close again? It’s okay baby boy, you can let go,” he reassures Wooyoung, dragging him down onto his cock and grinding his hips filthily up against Wooyoung’s prostate as he twists his palm against the head of Wooyoung’s leaking cock.

Wooyoung breaks.

A pathetic sob leaves him as he ejaculates between them, his come splattering messily against both of their chests.

“San-!” Wooyoung cries out, chest feeling as though it’s caving in on itself as he sags against the older man, lithe frame shaking as he works through his second orgasm of the night.

San runs a soothing hand up and down Wooyoung’s back, pressing gentle kisses against his lips and cheeks as Wooyoung slowly floats back to earth. His grip on Wooyoung’s cock slackens, finally granting him a reprieve from the intense stimulation.

Wooyoung’s euphoric peace is quickly interrupted however, as he feels San shift beneath him, drawing his legs up and hoisting Wooyoung properly in his lap.

“Fuck—wait, can’t-“ Wooyoung sobs as San’s hard length shifts inside his abused hole.

San shushes him with a kiss, his hands shifting to cup Wooyoung’s ass and lift him firmly. Wooyoung whimpers around a moan, because fuck, it feels so good. San licks wetly into Wooyoung’s open mouth, tongue tangling with his own as Wooyoung relaxes against his frame once more, clearly placated by the gentle affection.

He doesn’t make any further movements after that, continuing to kiss Wooyoung until he’s breathless and desperate once more, his once softened cock now at half mast. Wooyoung shifts in San’s lap, gasping into their kiss as he feels the man’s cock nudge at a spot inside him that makes him gasp and see stars.

“San—“ he starts with a whine, gripping the older man’s shoulders tightly as he slowly begins to rock down against his cock.

“Shit,” San hisses out, his own grip on Wooyoung’s waist tightening. “You ready to make me come now, baby boy?”

Wooyoung nods eagerly, a loud moan forced out of him seconds later as San lifts him up—drawing his length near-fully out of Wooyoung before shoving back in cruelly.

It’s a fast pace from there as San chases his own pleasure. Wooyoung sobs deeply as his hole is thoroughly abused and pushed to the limit, endless gasps and moans expelled from his lips as San fucks up into him as if he’s nothing more than a fleshlight.

San throws his head back with a pleased moan as Wooyoung clenches down around him hard, his body confused as to why the stimulation against his prostate won’t end.

“Wooyoung—baby, shit. You feel so good,” San moans on a pant, sweat dripping from his face and chest. His abs visibly clench tightly with each thrust inside, clearly close to his own peak. His bangs hang over his eyes as he concentrates on each movement of his hips, his pace and precision wicked as he pushes in and grinds—swiveling his hips to circle right up against Wooyoung’s most sensitive spot, making him feel every inch.

“San, wait—g-gonna,” Wooyoung tries to warn him, frantic behind his tears because his body is so, so tired, and yet is tensing up again.

Wooyoung’s body arches against San’s, a pornographic moan leaving his lips as he comes for a third time, tears streaming freely down his cheeks as his cock kicks between them. He’s spiraling, lost in a whirlpool of pleasure and San, San, San. Come and liquid both spurt out from his flushed length as he comes, completely untouched.

“Shit, sweetheart—so good. Making me feel so good. ‘M gonna come,” San moans at the sensation.

It barely takes a handful of thrusts more before San is coming with a desperate whine, tugging Wooyoung’s body down onto his cock firmly as he shoots inside of him. Wooyoung lets out a trembled moan, able to feel the warmth of San’s relief in spite of the condom separating them. Taste of San in his mouth, the warm pressure of San against and inside of him—it’s dizzying, and Wooyoung never wants his head to feel clear again.

He’s drawn back to earth as he feels San’s lips pressing warm kisses against his face, and he whimpers as he feels San shift beneath him, the slight movement jostling the softening cock within him. This stretched out, he just knows it’ll feel awful once San withdraws, his hole gaping around nothing as it’ll struggle to readjust to being empty.

“San,” he hiccups on a whine, thinking San is about to withdraw from him entirely too early, and his grip on the older man tightens harshly—but San hushes him instantly and soothes him with a gentle kiss.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I won’t pull out yet,” San reassures him, drawing Wooyoung close against his larger frame and running his fingers through his hair. He settles him with soft kisses and gently rumbled praise until Wooyoung is sure he could fall asleep just like that.

Wooyoung snuggles closer against San’s chest, unsure of what they’re meant to do next. He knows they’ll have to stand and clean themselves up, yes—but what about after? Should…should he excuse himself to the restroom and call either Mingi or Yeosang to come pick him up? It’s not like he can just assume San will be cool with him spending the night. The man is a father, for fucks sake. What would he even tell his daughters in the morning when they wake up, and find that Wooyoung is still there?

It was made very clear to Wooyoung as he snooped around the man’s home earlier that night that they live drastically different lives. Just because Wooyoung is sporting a little crush on the single dad and definitely wants to keep seeing him, doesn’t mean that it’ll be a possibility…for all he knows, San will hand him his jeans and tell him his cab ride is five minutes away.

“What’re you thinking about in there?” San’s teasing voice rings out in the silence, the older man flicking Wooyoung’s forehead gently. Wooyoung winces back, pouting at San even though it hadn’t hurt that bad.

“Nothing,” he lies easily, withdrawing from San with a resigned sigh. Well. He supposes it’s time for him to get off San’s dick, get dressed, call his roommates, and-

“Sweetheart,” San tries again, an edge of concern now evident in his tone as he tightens his grip around Wooyoung’s middle, unwilling to let him go so easily. “What’s wrong? What’re you thinking right now?”

Wooyoung chuckles sardonically. “I’m thinking about the best way for me to leave gracefully without letting you hurt my feelings,” he answers truthfully this time, avoiding San’s intense gaze as he shifts uncomfortably in his lap.

San sends him a bewildered look, before his mask of confusion turns into one of understanding. He reaches up to flick Wooyoung’s forehead again, this time hard.

“Hey!” Wooyoung protests, sending San an annoyed glare as he rubs at the sore spot between his brows. “That fucking hurt.”

“Good, because you’re being unbearable. Now lets get up, get cleaned and changed, and then we can sleep.”

Wooyoung looks up at him then, eyes a little widened in surprise at the resolute and honest expression he finds on the older man’s face. He feels a small, albeit shy smile tugging at his lips as he realizes the implications of San’s words.

He wants me to stay…

His chest feels warm in that all-encompassing, full way as he allows San to lift him off his lap gently, disposing of the condom before carrying him into his bathroom. There, San sits him up on the counter before running a washcloth under warm water, wiping down every surface of Wooyoung’s body until he’s satisfied and Wooyoung’s skin feels flushed from the heat. After cleaning himself up as well, San fetches them both a pair of clean sweatpants and a t-shirt for Wooyoung, explaining that he prefers to sleep shirtless.

No complaints from me on that one, Wooyoung muses as he stares at the older man’s sculpted shoulders and back, watching as he turns around to dispose of their washclothes into the laundry hamper.

He lets San lead him out of the bathroom and out of his bedroom as well, further down the hallway into one of the guest bedrooms.

“No way in hell am I changing the sheets on my bed right now,” San groans in complaint, immediately falling face first against the guest room bed, not bothering to even switch the room’s lights on. “I am so exhausted.”

Wooyoung giggles at the amusing sight, joining San in jumping onto the bed and landing a teasing swat against the older man’s ass just because he can.

“Cheer up, old man. You’ll feel better in the morning.” He says, letting out a squeal of laughter when San darts upwards, grabbing Wooyoung and pulling him into his lap before Wooyoung even has a moment to react.

“Shut up,” San murmurs, pressing a wet kiss against Wooyoung’s parted lips. “I’m the same old man who just made you come three times.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung laughs into the kiss, pressing back against San easily.

Because everything seemed to be so easy with this man. Wooyoung isn’t sure what this is, what the beating of his heart within his chest truly means, but he does know that he wants to find out. He wants San to stick around in his life for a long while…wants to explore his budding feelings for the man. To find out what path it’ll lead them both down, because he has a sneaking suspicion that it’ll be a beautiful one.

San finally releases Wooyoung with a quiet groan, crawling under the sheets and covers of the bed before motioning for Wooyoung to do the same.

Wooyoung snuggles right up against San, not bothering with the social etiquette of facing away from someone when sharing a bed for the first time, and instead choosing to press his face right up against San’s firm chest. San responds in turn by wrapping his arms around Wooyoung and tugging him even closer, resting his own chin and hand atop Wooyoung’s head as they settle in for the night.

“Just as a heads up—I’ll be waking up around 5 AM, but I’ll try to not wake you when I get up.”

Wooyoung almost comments on the appalling, godforsaken hour before remembering the man’s profession, and that he’ll probably want to get his day sorted out before waking his daughters.

Wooyoung yawns quietly. “Where’s your phone—did you set an alarm? I’ll wake up with you.”

San chuckles, the vibrations of it rumbling against Wooyoung’s face. “I don’t need a morning alarm anymore, my internal clock wakes me up around 5 every morning now. Force of habit, I suppose.”

Wooyoung hums in understanding, his eyelids drooping heavily with sleep. “Kay. Well, wake me when you get up.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” San agrees—placating—but Wooyoung has a sneaking suspicion that the older man will choose to just let him sleep in when 5 AM actually does roll around.

“San?” Wooyoung speaks again, whispering softly from where his face is tucked against San’s chest. He tightens his hold around the man, pressing several kisses against San’s chest, unable to find words for what it is he wants to convey. But San seems to understand his unspoken thoughts regardless, and responds in turn by pressing a kiss against Wooyoung’s hair.

“Me too, Wooyoung,” he murmurs quietly, and Wooyoung knows he’s telling the truth—he can hear San’s heart pounding away excitedly within his chest.

I am so far gone for this man already.

The pair fall asleep like that, exhausted and achey in the absolute best of ways—hearts full and warm in an even better way.

X x X

And he said his internal clock would wake him, Wooyoung mutters in his head mockingly, going as far as to stick his tongue out at the sleeping man below him teasingly. He reaches across the bed to grab his discarded phone that he had remembered to bring into the guest room with him the previous night, tapping the screen to be greeted with his bright lockscreen—a photo of him, Seonghwa, and Mingi at the beach. Their smiles were wide and cheesy, but genuine as happiness radiated off of them in waves. The photo itself is incredibly shaky and unfocused because Yeosang had been the one to take it, but Wooyoung loves it regardless of its imperfections.

He unlocks his phone, opening his messages to find a flurry of texts from his roommates, asking him his whereabouts. He winces, deciding to place those on the back burner for the time being. He’ll call them in a few minutes and apologize for going M.I.A. Instead, he clicks on a message sent to his phone just a few minutes earlier from Seonghwa.

It’s a selfie of Seonghwa and Hongjoong cuddled up in what appears to be the bed in their room at the resort. The producer is fast asleep on Seonghwa’s shoulder, lips pouting adorably in his slumber. A thin line of drool connects his mouth and the hoodie that Seonghwa wears. Seonghwa’s expression is that of a dramatic eye roll, the moment captured perfectly in the shot. Wooyoung cackles quietly at the image.

Seonghwa: Help. Get this squirrel off of me, he’s snoring in my ear

Wooyoung: Nothing beats a Jet 2 holiday!

His phone buzzes with a response a moment later, the elder always quick to reply to his texts.

Seonghwa: Shut the fuck up, I can’t sleep

Wooyoung: Awe, Hongjoongie hyung is so cute sometimes

Wooyoung: I feel you hyung, I have my own cuddle bug problem right now

Seonghwa: ??? Mingi fall asleep in your bed again?

Wooyoung grins, quickly opening his own camera app and flipping it into selfie mode. He lifts an arm, angling it to show both he and the man curled up into a ball behind him. San’s arms are still stretched out, one of them loosely wrapped around Wooyoung’s waist in his sleep. His lips are stretched downwards in an adorable pout of his own, and in the pale, early morning light of the sky brightening outside through the open window blinds, San appears incredibly peaceful and cute in a way that almost contradicts with his self-assured and dominant personality.

Wooyoung snaps the photo, forwarding it to Seonghwa.

Wooyoung: [IMG. Attached]

As expected, his messages instantly explode with a flurry of texts in response.

Seonghwa: !?!??!?!

Seonghwa: EXCUSE ME.

Seonghwa: NO WAY. IS THAT SAN? CHOI SAN? MY SANNIE HYUNG??

Seonghwa: YOU’VE SEDUCED AND CORRUPTED MY SWEET OLD MAN?!

Wooyoung: More like he seduced and corrupted me, but sure

Seonghwa: JUNG WOOYOUNG, I’M GOING TO SPANK YOU WHEN I GET BACK

Seonghwa: Actually, never mind. You’d enjoy that too much.

Wooyoung: I love you too. Have fun on your vacation!

Seonghwa: NO DONT GO. ANSWER MY QUESTIONS

Wooyoung: Oops, looks like the line has dropped! TTYL hyung

Seonghwa: I hate you