i'm a puppet on a string //
and i can't help myself
all i ever wanna say is "are you mine?"

wooyoung san

08.09.17

home. that's what wooyoung had said, and now here they are. at san's apartment, because he hadn't wanted to leave wooyoung alone and the younger had adamantly refused to go back to his own house.

wooyoung has been quiet most of the morning, wondering around in san's clothes. san doesn't want to push him, doesn't want to bring up last night until wooyoung does, but it doesn't seem like he's willing to.

not to mention san's head is killing him, pounding uncomfortably despite the aspirin. he lies in bed, watching wooyoung do another lap surveying his small kitchen. san's shirt isn't long enough on him that it still manages to cover his thighs when wooyoung gets on his tip-toes, feeling around the shelves.

admiring him in the dim light, san thinks about how eager wooyoung had been to change out of his clothes last night. all confidence and self-assurance gone, he'd been on the verge of tears trying to cover himself up. it's a paradox, really.

and it's the last straw, for san, when the now sober wooyoung appears similarly insecure, quickly falling back on his heels. he winces, rubbing his back, and san tries to remember when he'd hurt himself last night. perhaps it'd been the bathtub, or maybe it was san's fault. he does recall grabbing him quite tightly.

the thought makes him sit up, a different kind of nausea settling in the pit of his stomach. "looking for food?" he croaks, causing wooyoung to spin around.

his hands go behind his back guiltily, a small smile forming. "caught me." he admits, walking towards the bed.

by throwing up in the night, wooyoung seems to have luckily avoided any hangover repercussions. hence the appetite, san gathers.

he sighs dramatically, getting out of the bed. "suppose i'll make you something."

san watches his sheepish smile, managing a smile himself despite the groggy hangover begrudging him. making his way over, he surveys his sparse cupboard's contents for a moment, pursing his lips:

"instant noodles?" he questions, reciprocating wooyoung's enthusiast nod. low effort, carbohydrates are always the best cure.

echoes of the unspoken hang in the air around them, dangerously balancing on a nimble thread. san half wants to not speak, to never speak, to keep living in this room in these borrowed moments and never bring up the elephant in the room. elephants.

all the uncertainty around their relationship simmers over in san's mind as he pours boiling water over the noodles, glancing at wooyoung where he stands with his head propped on his hands cutely.

standing here cooking, thinking i could do this, i really could live with him, like this, san can't help the feeling of dejavu that settles in him. they're going in circles, and the ugly truth deep in san, a truth dr. suh would certainly have plenty to say about, is that he doesn't mind. he'll live like this, in circles, as long as it's with wooyoung.

"here," he says, snapping a pair of chopsticks apart and giving the potted noodles a stir.

handing the pot to him carefully so not to spill on him like he did last night, their fingers brush as wooyoung takes it gratefully, eyes sparkling enthusiastically.

fuck, last night. that's a sobering thought.

every time he closes his eyes, san pictures wooyoung in last night's outfit. the way they danced together under the flashing lights.

"can we put a movie on?" wooyoung asks suddenly, snapping san out of the recollection.

fucking hell, san really needs to jerk off, get rid of this pent up sexual frustration.

"sure," he clears his throat, helping wooyoung to the couch. "any requests?"

"twilight." wooyoung says confidently, slurping at the too-hot noodles contently. "seen it so many times it doesn't even matter that i can't see anymore. robert pattinson is not a face to forget."

it's endearing, so san doesn't make fun of him. he puts on twilight, because that's the kind of dumb thing he'll do for wooyoung.

what he doesn't expect, is for twilight to be a fucking horror movie.

though he'll never admit it, san is scared of pretty much everything. and no one told him that the second half of this stupid teenage film, proceeding all the awkward romance and epic baseball scene, is fucking terrifying.

he's covering his face, refusing to watch the dimly lit ballet studio saga, frankly petrified by this pale 'james' character. then there's a sickening crunch from the tv, followed by san screaming. "was that her fucking leg?"

wooyoung's laughing at him, delighted by this predicament. he looks through his fingers enough to see wooyoung nod, and bella give a wrenching scream. "yes oh my god fuck it fucking BROKE wooyoung i can't do this-"

scrambling for the remote as wooyoung howls unhelpfully, san utters strings of profanity under his breath. "i'm turning this shit off, i can't-"

the halting of tv noise allows him a breath of relief, body slumping back on the couch. he's been clutching to wooyoung most of the time, now missing his warmth.

"you wouldn't survive the birth scene." wooyoung comments, and san groans feebly in agreement.

the movie has been helping with san's prior thoughts, but now that they've turned it off... the frustration is back.

"my own person brand of heroine," san says gruffly, imitating a line from the movie in his best pattinson impression. "can't believe you like this shit."

also, sober-minded clear-headed san thinks they definitely need to discuss some things. like if wooyoung is planning on breaking up with hongjoong, ever, or if san is just a side piece. a distraction stuck in a circle.

wooyoung, on the other hand, seems to be being controlled by his dick. he's been jumpy, restless, and now there's nothing in the background to distract.

so. he's crawling into san's lap, settling himself comfortably. hands automatically going to wooyoung's waist, san's alert, wary.

"twilight got you horny?" he smirks, staying leaning back. "didn't know my edward impression was that good."

"no," wooyoung rolls his eyes, hands capturing san's neck. "jealous?"

and san doesn't answer, giving in. wooyoung makes a noise of protest, only for it be swallowed up by the sound of a thump against a wall and san's own mouth latching on to his.

san swallows the gasp he lets out, one hand tangled in his hair at the back of his head, and the other grasping more firmly onto his hip. his fingers edge up the sliver of skin that is exposed by his -san's, on wooyoung's body- shirt riding up, and his fingers are rough enough to raise goosebumbs on wooyoung's skin.

he feels over sensitive as san kisses him slow and languid, the hand on the back of his head moving down to the blonde's neck, massaging the tenseness there as his tongue licks inside his mouth.

and he pulls back, causing a small whine. "when are we going to talk about your boyfriend?" san asks, unable to avoid the nagging feeling.

but yeah, wooyoung's being a little shit, and letting his dick lead him around instead of his brain. 

"when are you gonna fuck me?" he replies, rolling his hips out in hopes of bringing them closer together. san bites gently at his bottom lip, trailing his lips down the curve of his neck.

"low blow." he murmurs gruffly. "little manipulator."

"it's working, isn't it?" wooyoung responds breathily, already incredibly worked up.

"yeah, i guess it is." weak, that's what san is. oh woe is me.

and he drags him forwards, and lifts, so that wooyoung can properly straddle him. the friction is good, has san similarly worked up, feeling sweaty as the younger rotates his hips eagerly.

he wants wooyoung under him, edging him off of his lap so he can pin him onto the couch instead. and wooyoung's only too glad to submit, head falling back to expose his neck.

not taking the bait, san sits back on his haunches so their crotches aren't touching, hands on wooyoung's thighs. he's waiting, testing to see if wooyoung will tell him what he wants.

and surprisingly, horny confident wooyoung returns, albeit not meeting san's eyes.

"you know when..." he says, but wooyoung can't seem to make himself finish, chewing the inside of his cheeks. "agh, i cant say it. it's embarrassing." he shuts his eyes, flushed.

"it okay, love." san says softly, lifting his chin with a finger. "you can tell me what you like. what you want."

taking a brief puff of breath, wooyoung nods briskly, swallowing. "okay," he starts, smile pulling at his plump lips sheepishly. "at the party, after the dance. i remember dancing with you, and..." he says, as if san doesn't remember. "when you, uh, choked me. that."

face unchanging, san keeps his finger under wooyoung's chin. "you liked that?"

"i- fuck, yeah, i liked it. a lot." he admits breathily.

there's a moment, and then san brings his hand down to the base of his throat. rests it there, gently wrapping his fingers around it. "like that?" he asks, fingers brushing the column, hand fitting nicely over most of his neck.

"yeah," wooyoung confirms, swallowing. "harder."

san lifts himself further into wooyoung's lap, knees on either side of his hips. he tightens his grip, applying pressure to his airways. leaning forward, san asks again. "like this?"

wooyoung can't hold back a whimper, tipping his head back to properly give san access. "yeah," he manages, head falling onto the cushion backing of the couch.

san brushes his lips over wooyoung's chin, his jaw. "two taps on my arm, if it's too much." he says lowly, shifting.

fuck rational, honestly. fuck everything.  most importantly, fuck wooyoung.

"okay," wooyoung breathes, eyes glittering in excitement. "bu-" he starts to speak, but san squeezes, cutting him off as he chokes audibly.

"shut up," san says, feeling wooyoung's throat bob acutely under his hand. he can feel his pulse hammering, blood pumping in the arteries up his neck.

wooyoung's hands shoot out instinctively, grabbing at his shirt. but he doesn't tap, eyes fluttering closed. "good," he whispers, mouthing over the shell of his ear. flicks his tongue over the tragus, barely.

san jerks him forward by the neck, connecting their lips. wooyoung murmurs, gasping softly as san licks the seam of his mouth, pushing his tongue between his lips. their tongues curl together, wooyoung open-mouthed to try allow air into his lungs.

a raspy breath seeps out, and san loosens his grip, instead tracing an index finger up the column of his throat. up to his chin, and into his mouth. wooyoung closes his lips around the digit, sucking messily as san continues kissing his mouth, around the finger.

he whimpers again, hips jutting upwards for better contact. the needy action causes san to pull out his finger, grabbing at his throat again. he doesn't ease into it this time, immediately using a tight grip. wooyoung splutters, shuddering.

"needy," san critics, free hand settling over wooyoung's crotch. he squirms under him, expecting to be touched. but san removes the hand, tutting. "greedy, too."

"please," wooyoung grunts, adam's apple bouncing.

"hmm," san considers, drumming his fingers on the couch behind him. "no. don't think you've earned that."

wooyoung's fists tighten on his front, pulling him forward. san slips further onto his lap, grip slipping.

"brat." he tuts, turning wooyoung's head sideways roughly. "put those hands to work, why don't you?" he instructs, indicating his own growing erection.

he waits, not doing anything else until wooyoung obeys, hurriedly undoing the button of san's jeans, slipping his hand into his underwear. san exhales at the contact, barely suppressing a moan.

and wooyoung does work, jerking his wrist to stroke san's cock up and down. it's a sloppy handjob, but probably san's all time favourite. he turns his head sharply once more, kissing him hotly. fucking up into the circle of wooyoung's palm, san revels in him, devours his breathy whines.

decides he deserves the favour returned, and gets a hand on wooyoung's cock, already dripping. the contact makes his hand fly to his mouth, biting down on his own skin to muffle the sound.

"these walls are thin." san breaks away, panting, slowing his hand.

"guess everyone's gonna hear us then." wooyoung replies unabashedly, hand falling to his own throat. "gonna hear you fucking ruin me."

"suppose they're used to it." san returns, eyes flashing darkly.

he wants nothing more than to mark up wooyoung's pretty skin, to tarnish that flawless canvas. and san knows, he knows it's not allowed. an unspoken understanding.

allowing his teeth to graze wooyoung's neck, barely, san opens his mouth over his skin, tongue darting out. god, it's tempting.

"no marks," the younger rasps, wriggling. "hongjoong-"

"don't say his name," san pleas, begs, screams, whispers. interrupts wooyoung, moving his mouth in light open mouthed kisses.

"right." wooyoung agrees, whimpering as he fucks up into san's hand in turn.

so that's where they are. stuck in a circle.

-

now i know i said the foreshadowing wasn't smut.

it isn't but i'm running out of prewritten content that's NOT smut and i'm so very busy lately :,):,):,) so here's a treat

soz for the wait some of us have lives!! ! !!😁👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🙄😋

xxx