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White light streaming through the slatted blinds of Wooyoung’s curtainless window triggers cognition—barely. Wooyoung’s eyes are irritated, a dull and cramping pain laying behind his eyelids. It’s bright. Too bright. Too early in the morning after a late night to be awake. What time is it? When did Wooyoung even get into a bed? Did he leave his keys in San’s car? Where’s his phone again? Whose bed even is this?

His eyes crack open with some difficulty, sleep having settled in the edges. The corner of the room he sees immediately is familiar. It’s his. Stark white apartment walls and closed closet door. It’s his bed. Wooyoung’s limbs feel unbelievably heavy and tired. He can’t move them. Doesn’t want to. He’s not even on his usual side of the mattress. He closes his eyes.

What fucking time is it?

Wooyoung attempts to turn on his side to his alarm clock but halts immediately at the weight he feels next to him.

That’s a person.

Wooyoung had a one night stand? And he’s not gone yet? It can’t be that early. No fucking way. Not even the first light of the day would rouse half-dead Wooyoung that easily. A one night stand would have left by now. He would hope. Have some fucking shame! Or decency.

But Wooyoung still has his underwear on at least. His sheets don’t feel disgusting. He doesn’t smell like sex must, just night-out nasty. Who the hell is in Wooyoung’s bed?

The person sighs softly, and Wooyoung realizes it’s San.

Right. Right, they came home together and crashed in Wooyoung’s bed. Jongho stole the couch—face planted into it and knocked out fully clothed actually—and Wooyoung offered a plastered San his bed. What are best friends for?

San throws a toned arm over Wooyoung’s waist and brings himself closer against Wooyoung’s backside. San is bare waist up, and his and Wooyoung’s heat radiates uncomfortably, creeping up Wooyoung’s now sweating back. Wooyoung wants to complain, but the signals from his brain never reach his mouth.

San’s hips cant up, San still seemingly asleep, and Wooyoung opens his eyes, rubbing his fingers into his lids and snorting a disbelieving laugh against his palm.

“San,” he announces, voice hoarse, “your morning wood is digging into my ass.”

San pulls his hands back but not his hips, letting his hand press flat against Wooyoung’s abdomen. Wooyoung’s stomach quivers, and he swallows, eyes falling shut. San’s fingers tread dangerously close to the hem of Wooyoung’s boxers, and Wooyoung is extremely unsure of how to address his current situation. San’s cock presses into his ass and his fingers not far from his dick that’s already betraying him, rousing to life. Only a little.

“Then do somethin’ about it,” San challenges, voice sleepy and muffled.

“Ha ha,” Wooyoung replies, sarcastic. “Funny.” Wooyoung squirms his hips to mess with San—a playful thing that means nothing. A stupid thing between friends. He can only feel San’s hard cock better. No, better isn’t what Wooyoung means.

San snorts a laugh into Wooyoung’s neck and kisses it. Wooyoung giggles at the tickle against his skin before San bites at the top notch in his spine, scraping his teeth across his flesh. Wooyoung’s cock betrays him further.

Fuck.

San means it.

“Seriously?” Wooyoung speaks up, voice raising in pitch.

Yeah, they’re best friends, but they’re not blind. Too caught up in other things to cross the line, maybe, but not blind. San is hot. Wooyoung is well aware. And every single person in their circle of friends is well aware of whatever this is. A common joke. They could be sitting next to each other, and someone will always ask “When are you two going to finally fuck?”

San presses his lips back into Wooyoung’s neck and whispers, “Seriously.” San drags his nails across Wooyoung’s stomach before settling his hand on his hip. Goose flesh ripples across Wooyoung’s skin, and his nipples harden. No fucking way.

“We don’t have to,” San says against Wooyoung.

Wooyoung swallows, and he’s sure San can hear it.

Wooyoung musters up some kind of sense. “What’s gotten into you?” Wooyoung wants to say What’s finally gotten into you? But he doesn’t. That sounds like he’s been waiting for it. Wooyoung can’t confirm or deny that, though.

“Horny.”

Well, yeah, okay. That’s fair.

“Had a dream about you fucking me,” San continues. Wooyoung’s guts prickle with a strange excitement mixed with arousal. God, this is really happening, huh.

There’s always been a sexual tension. Thick or thin depending on who they’re fucking, the season, the semester, the time of fucking day. But a serious confession of it? That’s unheard of from either of them.

Wooyoung squeezes his eyes shut and lets his dick live its own life. Whatever. Fuck it. It’d be an honest to God lie if he said he hasn’t thought about him and San fucking. Fantasies of San hitting it from the back in Wooyoung’s kitchen every damn time San wears those stupid track pants over to the apartment. If Wooyoung recalls correctly, his first fantasy about him fucking San was freshman year of university. A brief flash of him taking San in their small shared dorm bathroom. He was reminded of it every time he went in there to beat off in peace.

He was thankful for the day he finally left dorm-dom and moved into an apartment off campus with Mingi and Hongjoong. No more bathroom wanks over his best friend and sexiling San or being sexiled by him, just sweet bed masturbation and getting plowed by hot men on a full-sized mattress for once. But that also came with San sharing his bed less often. Wooyoung won’t admit he likes when San decides to stay over and chooses Wooyoung’s room over the living room sofa.

“I’m flattered,” Wooyoung tells him, removing his arm from underneath his pillow and dancing his fingers across San’s still gripping his hip.

San interlaces their fingers. “Glad you don’t think it’s weird.”

“I’m a sexy guy,” is all Wooyoung says, matter-of-fact and smug.

San laughs into Wooyoung’s neck. “Uh-huh.” There’s a pause. “So…” he trails off. San nudges his cock against Wooyoung’s ass.

Wooyoung is unsure of what possesses him, but he releases San’s fingers from his grasp and turns on his side, facing the other in his bed. Wooyoung doesn’t say anything, just glances at San’s dick tenting his boxer-briefs before fluttering his eyes in some kind of defeat, pressing his mouth into San’s perfect-shaped one. San smiles into it, breath of a small laugh fanning from his nose and tickling Wooyoung’s cupid’s bow.

The kiss can only be described as delicate. A soft press of lips and gentle tips of tongues. San’s free hand finds its way to Wooyoung’s waist again, gripping a little harder this time. It continues slowly, as gentle and clean as it started, until San coaxes Wooyoung’s mouth open with the tilt of his head and a push of his tongue against Wooyoung’s teeth.

Wooyoung’s fingers tangle into San’s hair and he complies, lapping at the inside of San’s mouth. God, where has Wooyoung’s head gone. He just wants his tongue in his best friend’s fucking mouth, so what. Morning breath and and everything. It’s not like he’s never made out with San anyway.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Wooyoung laughs into San’s mouth, keeping his voice down.

San nips at his bottom lip. “I know. When I’m this hot and your dick has been wanting this all its adult life.”

Wooyoung stifles a laugh. “Shut up.” Wooyoung grinds his steadily hardening cock into San’s. He notices San wince and only taunts him. “Like you haven’t thought about my dick in your ass before today.”

San takes his hand from Wooyoung’s waist and pinches his nipple.

Wooyoung whines stupidly.

“Yeah,” San says.

Wooyoung kisses San again, nastier this time, and puts his palm on San’s erection like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. “So, you want me to fuck you?”

“Your bedroom, your condoms,” San explains. San ruts his hips, coaxing Wooyoung to give him something more.

“Oh, yeah, true,” Wooyoung says, complying to San’s silent wishes and applying pressure to the shaft of San’s cock. San lets out a pathetic noise, and Wooyoung shushes him playfully. Wooyoung feels nervous all of a sudden, tension flooding his chest, but he tries to push it down. It’s just San. Just his best friend since his senior year of high school. It’s just San. No big deal.

“How do you want me?”

Wooyoung can feel his cock twitch at the question.

“Ride me,” he says.

“Minimal effort, I see.” San’s eyes turn into mischievous slits, smirk on his mouth.

“If I fuck you any way else, you’ll make too much noise.”

“Oh, so you think I’m loud.”

“I know you’re loud, you little shit.” Wooyoung pats San’s cheek. “And I’m tired.”

San ignores him. “Can I suck your dick?”

Wooyoung swallows and furrows his eyebrows. “Yes?”

San throws his hand back in a glorious laugh, neck exposed. Wooyoung wants to bite into it.

“What kind of response is that?” San asks, breaking free from Wooyoung and turning onto his side before rolling to the edge of the bed.

Wooyoung watches San stretch towards the bedside table and take his glasses off the wooden top before shoving them onto his face. San’s tan back dips and curves elegantly, muscles taut from years of dancing. Wooyoung imagines himself fucking San from the back, able to press his mouth into the notches of his spine and his shoulder blades. Another day maybe, he tells himself.

“How do you even know to look in that one?” Wooyoung laughs behind San’s back.

“This is your side of the bed, duh.” San pulls the drawer open, and Wooyoung quirks a brow. “Spread eagle, bitch,” San tells him, digging through the contents of Wooyoung’s bedside drawer.

Wooyoung pulls himself to the center of the bed, back propped against the pillows, smiling. “Got it, chief.” He lays on his back and pulls his legs apart, the side of his leg hitting against San’s ass. His cock shamelessly tents his boxers, and the precome stain is only getting bigger. Wooyoung peels the fabric past his cock, lifting his hips, and flings them to the corner of the room.

San makes a noise of discovery, yanking what Wooyoung assumes is a condom and lubricant out of the drawer.

“I found it,” San announces. “Finally. Clean out your damn drawer.”

“Nah.”

San rolls onto his back and over Wooyoung’s legs before settling on top of Wooyoung, and Wooyoung makes an annoyed noise. Wooyoung’s cock is being crushed uncomfortably under San’s stomach, but San doesn’t seem to care. San’s skin is unbelievably warm against him. They’re smiling at each other, light reflecting off San’s lenses. San looks tired. Wooyoung probably does too.

“Take this,” San says, setting the condom packet and lube onto Wooyoung’s chest. The bottle of lubricant rolls from Wooyoung’s chest down to his stomach, and he places it next to him on the bed as San pulls himself down Wooyoung’s torso and shoves his fingers past the waistband of his own underwear. Wooyoung can’t help but giggle over this entire thing.

“What?” San smiles up at him, now on his knees and shoving off his own underwear to the floor.

Wooyoung returns it, but it’s a little shy. “Nothing.”

“God, I wish you could fuck me raw.” San takes Wooyoung’s cock into his hand, and all Wooyoung’s brain screams is more. “But we need to be sure we’re both clean. Also neither of us have showered.”

“But you’re going to put your mouth on my dick,” Wooyoung says, ignoring the fact that San just blatantly said he wants Wooyoung’s bare dick inside of him.

“Shut up. It’s not the same thing,” San says, furrowing his brows and quirking the corner of his mouth. “You know you want this sexy morning breath mouth all over your unshowered cock.”

Wooyoung pushes his head back against the pillow and laughs, eyes closed. “Jesus Christ.” Wooyoung flicks San on the head.

“You thought that was hot,” San says, hovering between Wooyoung’s parted legs. San pushes his tongue out his mouth and laps an obscene swirl around Wooyoung’s swollen cockhead without warning. His glasses slide down his nose. Wooyoung considers it deadly. A fatal attack. No survivors.

Wooyoung’s eyes close and he wets his lips, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

San stretches his lips over the head and drags his tongue underside, pushing Wooyoung’s cock shallowly past his teeth before pulling himself back to dip his tongue into the slit. San cups his tongue against the head and lets precome and saliva fall onto Wooyoung’s cock, and Wooyoung’s hands find their way into San’s hair.

“You’re going to make my hair greasy,” San says and runs the tip of his tongue around Wooyoung’s cockhead, fisting his fingers around the shaft. He uses his other hand to push his glasses up.

“I’ll wash your hair for you then,” Wooyoung tells him.

“Give me head in the shower,” San says suddenly. “I’ve wanted your mouth on my dick since day one.”

“Shit.”

San takes Wooyoung’s cock and hits it against his closed mouth, rubbing his precome and spit slick lips against the head before opening them one last time to take Wooyoung’s cock into his mouth. San pulls off Wooyoung’s dick, going down to mouth at the shaft, cupping his palm around Wooyoung’s head crudely and twisting.

“San, please let me just fuck you,” Wooyoung begs.

“Oh, fuck, I love hearing that. I felt my nipples harden.”

San,” Wooyoung whines.

San pulls his mouth away finally and continues jerking his fist slowly along Wooyoung’s cock.

“I know, I know,” San begins. “I want it, too.”

Wooyoung’s guts twist and tangle at that.

San picks himself up and settles on his knees, reaching to take the lube from beside Wooyoung. “It doesn’t make much of a difference—,” he says, maneuvering himself to sit on top of Wooyoung’s now closed thighs. Their cocks bump together. “—if you finger me or if I do it, but honestly, I just want you to watch me do it.”

“I’m excited to see it,” Wooyoung tells him, moving his hands to San’s thighs. “We should’ve fucked sooner.” You’re so hot, he wants to say. Something prevents him.

San leans down, lube bottle still in his hand, and whispers into Wooyoung’s mouth, “We can do this again.”

“Anytime.” Wooyoung’s hands move down to grab the flesh of San’s ass in palms, spreading him apart, and San lets out a noise.

San pushes himself back up, not before kissing Wooyoung with the flick of his tongue.

“Anytime requires some commitment,” San tells him, uncapping the lubricant and squeezing it onto his fingers. “And we both need to get tested if you want to come inside.”

Wooyoung inwardly whimpers. “We can get tested together when we’re free.” It comes out a little too eager.

San laughs loud enough for Wooyoung to need to shakily shush him again.

“You want to be inside me exclusively,” San teases. San curves his back, cock curved proudly, before leaning forward and and reaching his lubed fingers behind him. He wets his lips, and Wooyoung watches in awe as San pushes a finger inside his hole. San closes his eyes, head tilted back, and his hips cant instinctively as he thrusts inside.

“Not true,” Wooyoung says. San pouts at that. “I want you to fuck me just as bad.” San throws his head forward and opens his eyes, a sultry look burning under pretty eyelashes. Excellent play on words and way of dodging the question, if Wooyoung does say so himself.

“You fuckin’ sweet talker. You’d look so good around my dick.”

God, at least it’s mutual. Wooyoung can’t believe they really took this long to finally bang when they’ve both wanted to do it the entire time they’ve known each other. Countless hours of great comfortable and playful sex… wasted. Wooyoung is somewhat wounded over it.

Wooyoung grips his wet cock and pumps it lazily, digging his thumb into the head before taking San’s against his inside his fist. San cries out, jerking his hips forward as he works himself open.

“If you make me come I’ll bite your dick off,” he warns, cracking one eye open.

Wooyoung lets go of both their cocks, laughing. “Okay, okay.” Wooyoung picks up the forgotten condom packet from his chest and tears it open to reveal a thin, red rubber.

Wooyoung pinches the reservoir of the condom and rolls the lining down his cock, the latex stretching down the length. San is getting squirmy above him, breath coming out shallowly and desperate.

“Ready when you are,” Wooyoung announces.

“I’m good,” San replies, removing his fingers from inside himself. San takes the discarded bottle of lube and squeezes the liquid onto his palm. Taking Wooyoung’s cock into his hand, he pumps it and coats is liberally. Wooyoung can’t help but jerk his hips up. “Fuck, I’m excited.”

Wooyoung’s chest quivers at the admission.

“Keep it down or we’ll never fucking hear the end of this from every person we know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” San replies, gripping Wooyoung’s cock and maneuvering it to his stretched hole. The tip pushes inside, and Wooyoung feels San around him for the first time. San is snug and wet, and he sits himself fully on Wooyoung’s cock with a gentle but ragged breath of air falling out of his mouth.

“You good?” Wooyoung asks, placing a hand on San’s thigh.

San nods, so Wooyoung gives a shallow thrust. Wooyoung hears the first open and closed door of the day with feet padding across the floor following it and immediately closes his eyes, annoyed push of air flaring out of his nose. Of course.

San smirks and lets out one fake, porny moan. Not loud enough to be heard, thank God. Disbelieving, Wooyoung presses his palms against his face and pulls his eyelids with his fingers, laughing but still stressed.

“Shut—” Wooyoung gives a thrust. “—up. Oh my God.”

“You’re right, sorry,” he laughs. San presses his palms into Wooyoung’s chest and bounces his ass on Wooyoung’s cock.

Wooyoung lets San ride him slow and tired—an agonizing pace. But it’s too early in the morning with too many people around for Wooyoung to go any faster. With Wooyoung gripping San’s waist, San swivels his hips around Wooyoung’s cock, and Wooyoung lets out a quiet grunt. San leans forward and lets his neglected, leaking dick rut against Wooyoung’s abdomen, and he cries out something pathetic.

San breathes out eventually, “Can I pick up the pace?”

“God, yes,” Wooyoung lets out. Wooyoung grabs hand fulls of San’s ass again, gripping hard and spreading him open to take Wooyoung’s cock deeper. San picks his hips up and rides Wooyoung, the bed frame giving in and creaking out a whine.

“God, your—cheap ass—bed frame,” San says breathlessly.

“I really—got it for—a bargain,” Wooyoung grunts, his thighs meeting San’s ass in skin-on-skin slaps. Lube is leaking from San’s hole and the condom, running down to his sac.

Wooyoung attempts to match San’s pace. Runs his hands over places he’s never touched. Admires the person before him like a god. They fuck like this in silence for what feels like too long until San is running his mouth again. Wooyoung tries to hold a conversation—wants too, but San suddenly confesses something that catches Wooyoung off guard.

“I love having sex with you,” San tells him absentmindedly, moving in to kiss Wooyoung nasty on the mouth. “This is the most comfortable I’ve been with a partner in so long.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Wooyoung says, mouthing at San’s neck. Again, the thought of Why did this take so long? resurfaces. “Man, we’re stupid,” he says with no context.

San, breathless, still manages to laugh, turning his head and lapping at Wooyoung’s mouth.

“Let me fuck you tonight,” San says into his mouth, jerking his hips onto Wooyoung’s cock. “Come to my place.” San slows down and pushes himself up with his hands on Wooyoung’s chest. Wooyoung’s insides feel hot. “I wanna be loud.”

“Holy shit, San.”

“Is that a yes? I can beg if you want.”

“Of course I want you to beg.”

“Pretty please, Woo—young—ie.”

Wooyoung laughs, but he’s conflicted over how much sex appeal San truly holds. San squeezes his knees into Wooyoung’s ribs and grabs the wall above Wooyoung’s head, looking down onto Wooyoung with bed messy hair and dark circles behind those silver frames, mischievous tongue sticking out between his teeth.

Wooyoung focuses on trying to meet San’s thrusts in their compromised metaphorical and physical position. His dick is begging for something faster, something rougher. Can Wooyoung please just push San onto all fours and fuck into him like it’s their last day on Earth, for fuck’s sake.

“Why did we stay out all night,” San whines, dropping his hands to Wooyoung’s shoulders. “My body was already exhausted. I’m losing steam.”

“What if we changed positions? I can take over,” Wooyoung offers. “Let me finish you off fast.”

Wo—w, confident,” San tells him. San takes Wooyoung’s chin between his thumb and pointer. “Do your best.”

Wooyoung smiles and San pulls off Wooyoung’s cock, Wooyoung’s hands now gripping San’s ass as Wooyoung pulls out. Wooyoung tugs at San’s hole and presses the tip of his finger inside. San lets out a pathetic noise, wet hole contracting as he does so.

“So that’s how you play, huh?” San asks, eyes narrowed but smirk on his face nonetheless.

“I dunno, maybe,” he says, turning on his side and pulling San down with him before San maneuvers himself back-to-Wooyoung’s front. Wooyoung can’t help himself but immediately bite into San’s neck, supporting San’s head with his other arm, and San raises his hand to throw his fingers into Wooyoung’s hair.

“Guess I’ll have to find out,” San says, turning his head and trying to meet Wooyoung’s lips in an awkward press of mouths resembling something like a kiss. His glasses fall askew and he removes his hand from Wooyoung’s hair to take them off. Wooyoung assumes they’re more hassle than it’s worth to have them on. They’re discarded haphazardly to the floor with a small carpeted clatter.

Wooyoung’s wet cock presses against the cleft of San’s ass, and he guides the tip to San’s rim, nudging the head against it.

“Can I put it in?”

Yes,” San says, exasperated.

“Jesus, you’re impatient,” Wooyoung chides.

Wooyoung slips inside so easily; and at this position, San squeezes around him tighter than before. Wooyoung lets out a breathless noise that comes from his chest and grips the underside of San’s thigh, lifting it up just enough to fully reach inside.

“The word is ‘desperate,’ not ‘impatient,’” San counters, cheeky.

“Ah, excuse me,” Wooyoung replies sarcastically, but with no bite.

In this position, Wooyoung knows San can’t move as easily and takes advantage of this by pulling his cock only half out and pushing back in with a quick, hard thrust. San’s lips come together in a hard line, a moan held back and trapped in his throat that comes out in a muffled squeak. Wooyoung pounds into him, nose and lips buried behind San’s ear into his hair, and the bed miraculously doesn’t whine. But it does shake. Wooyoung’s unsure if it’s loud enough to be heard, but he prays to god it isn’t.

San’s left arm away from Wooyoung is only being held up with support of his elbow, up right with fingers mindlessly grabbing at Wooyoung’s free hand next to San’s head. Wooyoung is compelled to interlace San’s fingers with his, other hand still gripping into San’s right thigh as he fucks messily inside his hole, and he can’t help but think that this is oddly intimate.

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his right hand going from Wooyoung’s hair straight to his neglected cock to jerk himself hard and fast. “Wooyoung, you’re so deep.” San’s hips mindlessly swivel, chasing Wooyoung’s dick and contracting around him.

“You feel so good,” Wooyoung let’s out breathlessly. Whimpers turn to desperate sounding outcries. “San, you gotta keep it down,” he says into San’s skin, smile budding across his mouth despite San risking practically everything.

“Make me,” San manages to let out. And San knows Wooyoung can’t since both hands are compromised. Little bastard.

Fucking in harder, Wooyoung can hear the obscene squelch of lubricant and contact of skin on skin. San’s voice raises with each cry out with Wooyoung’s deep thrusts, and Wooyoung’s can feel a tight sexually driven anxiousness in his chest that crawls to his throat and sink down to his guts. His insides twist with a burning heat, that inward string feeling like it’s about to snap. San let’s out a loud, lewd Wooyoung he mistakes as utterly fake and chastises him for it until he realizes San isn’t kidding anymore.

“So close,” Wooyoung promises him. Wooyoung’s glutes and thighs are burning, but he manages to pound full force inside.

“Ohmygod, oh my—god,” San lets out, twisting his fist crudely around his cock. “Please come for me. Please, please, please.” San’s voice is so desperate and fucked out, and the coil inside of Wooyoung finally unravels. “I’m going to come. Don’t stop—don’tstop.”

Wooyoung grunts that he’s coming, voice blown, and lets go of San’s thigh, allowing it to fall back into place. Placing his palm onto to San’s hip, he fucks mercilessly until he’s coming inside the condom, San stretched around him, sinking his teeth into the skin under San’s ear and slowing down to what would be considered a torturous pace. San tries to fuck himself fast back onto Wooyoung’s cock and only causes it to slip out.

Fuck, Wooyoung,” San cries out, devastated, jerking his hips side to side instinctually to chase Wooyoung’s cock that’s no longer there, frustrated and exhausted.

“I got you,” Wooyoung assures, reaching for San’s cock. San’s hand falls away and he fucks desperately into Wooyoung’s hot hand.

San jerks into Wooyoung’s fist and releases without warning with a pathetic grunt, come dripping onto Wooyoung’s fingers as he lets San ride out his orgasm. Wooyoung removes his come covered hand but he's a little unsure of what to do with it. Wooyoung allows San to lay there, watching his chest rise and fall.

“That was—,” San begins, breaking the silence, “—great.”

Wooyoung lets out a laugh and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He picks up a dirty bath towel from the floor and wipes his hand clean before pulling off his condom and throwing it into his bedside trash bin. Wooyoung falls back into bed and rolls on top of San, being careful of San’s sensitive cock, and hovers over him. He presses his hands on either side of San’s head, knees next to thighs, and looks down at the fucked out mess that San is beneath him.

San only gives a kitty-cat smirk, eyes mischievous.

“Well, are you going to kiss me?” he asks with the roll of his neck, attitude in his voice.

Wooyoung pretends to think about for a split second, quirking his mouth. “Yeah, sure.”

San giggles before their mouths meet, and he throws his arms around Wooyoung’s neck. There’s more noise behind the door now, seeing as how most of the apartment has awoken to start their day. And Wooyoung wants to stay in bed the entire day instead of talking to literally any of his roommates. But he reeks. And so does San.

“We have to leave eventually,” San says into Wooyoung’s mouth.

“You’re the sacrifice.”

“God, fine,” San says, hitting the back of his hand gently against Wooyoung’s cheek to signal him to move.

Wooyoung falls onto his back on the mattress and watches San step back into his underwear. San opens the door easily, peeking his head through the opening before allowing himself to stick out halfway.

Wooyoung hears Mingi shout, “Oh, shit, it was San!”

“What?” he hears Hongjoong ask. There’s a loud clatter in the sink that follows it.

“Fifty bucks, bitch,” he hears Jongho say. “You owe me.”

San seems to fake a smile, not saying anything, and closes the door immediately by turning and pressing his back against it. His face is still etched in a perfectly uncomfortable smirk as he leans against the door.

Wooyoung throws his head back in a cackle. “Well, shit. I mean, I don’t want to say I told you so, but.”

“I wasn’t even loud.”

“Why are you so in denial?” Wooyoung laughs.

San leans over the edge of the bed onto the mattress and stretches forward, cat-like, before crawling onto it and curling up against Wooyoung’s side, draping his arm over Wooyoung’s stomach.

“Let’s just go back to sleep,” he suggests, cheek squished against a pillow.

“What about a shower?” Wooyoung looks down at him.

San’s eyes flutter closed, annoyed. “Fine. I want my dick sucked anyway.”

“You just came!”

“You owe me a blowjob! What the fuck!”

Yunho says from the hallway, “Is that San’s voice?”

“Can you guys fuck off?!” San perks his head up at the sudden realization. “Why is Yunho here and where did he sleep?!” San screams. Wooyoung rolls his eyes and covers his face with his palms, laughing.

“None of your fuuuuucking business,” Mingi yells from the kitchen.