Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You’re telling me you can’t skip the gym for just one day?” Hongjoong hovered over San’s desk, watching him stare intently at his laptop screen.

“Not really,” San responded without looking up. “I’ve got a routine that works for me, Hongjoong. Without it HALA would go belly up.”

Hongjoong clicked his tongue in disapproval, but didn’t move away.

“Come on.” He reached to rest his fingers on the top of San’s laptop to push it closed. “Just one night. Think about it. It will be good for office morale, a bit of team bonding.”

San’s hand shot forward, stopping the laptop from closing any further. He finally looked up at Hongjoong sternly.

“We can even schedule it, your highness.” Hongjoong mocked.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Perfect, I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushed off the table. “Look out for an email from me.”

San rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but smile. Hongjoong was the most efficient and dedicated worker in the office, no doubt. But he was also arguably the biggest pain in the ass about San’s lack of work-life balance. Every time San pulled an all-nighter at the office, Hongjoong would berate him from the time he clocked in until San agreed to leave. Although all of San’s co-workers asked him about his life outside of work from time to time, Hongjoong was the most adamant about convincing San that being out of the office was just as important as it was to be in the office. Hongjoong also most miserably reminded him of his uneventful love life. The office joked that he was married to his job, but had affairs with the gym. From time to time, the words “You’re about to be thirty-one, San-ah. It’s time to get out there.” haunted San on the commute home. He had the urge to stop at a bar after hours occasionally, but the feeling came and went. Once he thought of all the work that had to be done the next day–spreadsheets, emails, strategy meetings, balances, evaluations–going out for drinks never seemed that worth it. 

Not even two days later, a notification popped up in the corner of San’s screen. An email from Hongjoong. Subject: Final Time for Evening Excursion. “Evening Excursion.” Hilarious , San thought sarcastically. Titled like some office field trip. San opened the email:

Hello all,

Upon corroborating everyone’s schedules, it seems that this upcoming Friday from 6-10PM will be our official time for the office outing. We will meet at Illusion; please work out transportation on your own. This event is mandatory for all who receive this email. Expenses up to $50 per person will be covered by the company. Look forward to seeing you there!

Best,

Kim Hongjoong

C.O.O HALA Enterprises

Expenses up to $50? For each person? When did San sign off on that? San checked the email recipients. Sure enough, everyone was there–Kim Hongjoong, Song Mingi, Jeong Yunho, Choi Jongho–and lastly, him. Usually San was sent a blind carbon copy so no one would feel the pressure of their boss being part of their conversations. When he was BCC’d on other company outings like this, the emails about optional office social events were easy to ignore. If San didn’t show up to this one, though, the whole office would know. Hongjoong was always thorough, sometimes too thorough. 

San sighed and exited the window. It had indeed been a while since he’d been out, and part of him did miss just hanging out with the office. He was fortunate enough to actually be friends with everyone, past the point of cordial water cooler conversations. He hesitated to think too much about himself. It made him spiral a bit. Under his tough, serious exterior San was quite sensitive. Passion was present in every aspect of his life, but when it was just him at the end of the day, alone, that passion had nowhere to go. The only way to keep it from festering into a pit of lonely despair was to pour that passion into other areas, even if it meant it overflowed. That’s why he worked so hard, that’s why he disciplined himself. It was where his extra passion went. While others only admired his work ethic, Hongjoong saw right through him.

Plus, even if he wanted one, he was too busy for a relationship. 

***

The evening of the outing, San accidentally worked overtime. Old habits die hard. He checked the clock in the corner of his screen: 5:48 PM. Shit. It took fifteen minutes to get there from the office. He quickly rose from his desk, not bothering to tidy any of the reports and notes strewn about his office. Leaving everything behind, San hurried out of the building, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to spiff himself up. The air outside was cool and clear, quieter than San had ever noticed before. The evening’s stillness gave him a second to clear his head, quieting the racing thoughts of calculations and to do lists. The heels of his shoes clicked sharply against the pavement, cutting through the silence like a knife. Lone trees, planted in a neat row outside the entrance, rustled a soft whisper. Each tree sat in an individual planter, encased with concrete on all sides. San sometimes wondered if the trees ever got lonely; he had read somewhere that trees depend on the intermingling network of their roots with one another to survive. Under all the urbanization, their connections persevered. If they didn’t, they would slowly wither, no matter how much care they were provided. San had once tried to put in a request with the city to make a single, cohesive garden in front of the building, but was turned down. Each time he entered and exited the building, he hoped the small patches of grass inevitably growing at the base of their trunks was enough company to sustain them. 

San arrived at Illusion, looking around for Hongjoong’s platinum blonde hair. He ended up hearing Mingi’s loud, defensive yelling before he could finish his search. With a subtle smirk on his face, San pushed his way through the crowd in the direction of the ruckus. Like usual, Mingi was being playfully bullied by Yunho and Jongho, his sole defense tactic being to accuse them of the same things. When San finally greeted them, he suddenly became the victim. 

“Did you come directly from the office?” Hongjoong lowered his drink in disbelief, looking him up and down.

“Or is this another three piece suit that you decided to put on at home after you changed out of your daytime three piece suit?” Jongho jeered at San and leaned on Yunho, who was already losing it. 

“Sexy nighttime suit, Choi.” Hongjoong finished the insult. 

“Listen,” San objected. “ Somebody didn’t put a dress code on the email, so I came as I am. Take it or leave it.”

“It’s a fucking bar, San.” Hongjoong quipped. “I had faith you’d maybe put some damn jeans on or something. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

Their laughter roared, blending into the chatter and ambient music surrounding them. San appreciated that they could easily banter again, as if no time had elapsed since the last time he went out with them, even if it meant he was the butt of the joke.

“Fine, I’ll lose the jacket.” San began to take his blazer off, earning him hollers and whistles as he rolled up his sleeves. Although the suit jacket defined his frame well, the contrast between his sweet face and brawny build under his business attire was always a bit jarring. “Better?”

“What’s next, the vest? If we get lucky, the belt too?” Jongho cowered as San threw his jacket at him in response. 

Without San really noticing, they found themselves traversing from bar to bar. First, Yunho suggested a bar five minutes away that had live music. Unfortunately, they arrived during the last song. The crowd died down after that, so they finished their drinks and headed to another. San checked his watch on the walk there. It had been three hours since they all started drinking, and he figured it was about time they got some food in their stomachs. No matter the situation, San made sure to take care of those around him. It’s part of what landed him a job managing others. He suggested they stop at a hole in the wall restaurant they were passing by. With no clear plan in mind to adhere to, therefore no grounded opposition, they all agreed. Somehow, to San’s amusement, Hongjoong got suckered into paying for everyone’s meal. They bickered and joked over the meal with the same energy as the beginning of the night, with no sign of losing steam anytime soon. 

“It’s nice that you’ve finally decided to come out with us,” Yunho said with a mouthful of rice. “It’s been what, four months?”

“Far too long,” Mingi agreed. “That’s gotta be bad for your health, San.”

“But we’ve been doing well, no?” San muttered between sips of his drink. 

“I know you like working hard, San,” Hongjoong interjected. “We all do. But I also like to see you sane and not sleeping at your desk.”

San shrugged and smiled. 

“I’m sane.” He assured. 

A silence ensued, followed by a slow build up of stifled laughter. Clearly, there was some disagreement. 

San thought about heading home, but that thought was abruptly shot down. Mingi implored them to go out one last time, arguing that they have to end on a more exciting note since San was finally out with them. 

“A strip club?” San sounded apprehensive. It’s not really his scene. He had been to one or two incidentally, but didn’t find them all that entertaining.

“Come on, it’s just next door. I saw it when we came in.” Mingi touted before he threw his head back, finishing the last of his drink. “We won’t stay for long.”

San rubbed his forehead, thinking of the work he probably needed to get a head start on tomorrow. 

“Fine! And you, sir,” Hongjoong slammed his palm on the table, pointing a finger at San with the other. Hongjoong’s cheeks never got red when he drank–but his ears, on the other hand–were a red so deep it made his hair appear white. “Are coming with us.”

“Fine.” San groaned dramatically. Behind the supposed agony, he was actually having a good time hanging out with everyone outside of a working context. Maybe Hongjoong was right. He did need this more often. 

The five of them stepped back out into the cool evening air, but only for a second. Mingi surprisingly wasn’t lying. The club was, in fact, right next door. All of them produced IDs and paid the small cover fee (of which San has not forgotten, will be reimbursed on the company card later). A small neon sign above them flickered, Blood Moon .

The last time San was at a strip club was in college, yet this one was nothing like he remembered. It was nicer than he expected, the intricate but old fashioned decor suggesting it was more of an upscale establishment. A deep red carpet covered the majority of the floor around a long catwalk stage in the center, surrounded by tables with tealight  candles atop each. Most of the seats were white, leather padded loveseats with enough room for two. Assumingly for a patron and a dancer. If San wasn’t aware that he was in a strip club, the furnishings might have been that of a four star restaurant. Booths lined the room, drawable curtains at each end of the seating to make semi-private spaces. There were patrons hanging around the bar and stage, but besides that the place wasn’t too crowded. San checked his watch. 11:38 PM. An hour and thirty-eight minutes overtime.

“Booth?” San inquired.

“ Booth? ” Jongho mocked his tone. “We didn’t come here to have a meeting, San. We’ll make a place for us to sit around the stage. Front row seats, baby.”

San smiled and shook his head, continuing forward in search of an open spot. The seats and tables around the stage were grouped into two’s and three’s, making it easy for them to move and angle the seats so they were in a semi circle around two bar tables seating all of them together. 

“I’ll go to the bar and get some cash,” Yunho leaned over a chair. “Does anyone want anything else?”

Jongho and Hongjoong put in their orders, the rest opting for water. San collapsed on the seat, unbuttoning the front of his blazer and loosening his tie.

“Okay, I’ve got some tips we can split.” Yunho returned with cash in hand, thumbing through the bills to distribute. 

“Anyone catching your eye, San?” Jongho asked.

“I’m not going to find the love of my life or something, Jongho.” San pushed his hair back. “Relax.”

“I wasn’t suggesting it,” Jongho feigned innocence.  “But I wouldn’t knock it until you try it.”

San looked around. There were a variety of strippers mingling with the clients. Some were dressed scantily in outfits San couldn’t understand the structural integrity of, while others were more modest while still keeping provocative slivers of skin exposed. Surprisingly, he fit in pretty well in his three piece suit, unlike the bars they had been to prior. Sadly, he matched the wait staff more than anyone else.

His eyes roamed a while until they settled on a dancer stood at the end of the bar, dressed in heavily strapped black lingerie with a sheer mesh robe draped over top. San scanned the dancer’s silhouette, starting from the bottom and dragging his gaze slowly upwards. Noticeably long, lean legs and skin that glowed under the warm dim light. A tattoo on the back of the dancer’s neck that he couldn’t quite make out. Once his eyes reached the back of the dancer’s head, his eyebrows flicked down into a brief, surprised furrow. On the top of the dancer’s head were ears: fluffy, pointed and black to match the rest of their all black outfit. San continued to watch the dancer’s body language and they spoke to the bartender, whom they seemed to be friends with. Something about the way they leaned over the bar, making the bartender laugh and laughing in return, something about the way they circled their ankle around on the ball of their foot. It was all so captivating to San; the aura strangely irresistible. The bartender swiveled a glass, cleaning the inside with a rag, saying something to the dancer as he flicked his eyes up to San. They looked back at the dancer and tilted their head in San’s direction. Almost instantly, the dancer whipped their head around in the same direction, keeping their elbows leaned on the bartop. San’s chest tightened and he quickly averted his gaze, only realizing he had been staring after the threat of being caught presented itself. He only caught a glimpse of some dark makeup behind long, black and blonde bangs. He tried to play it off, reaching to sip his water and reengage in the conversation he slipped out of. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dancer and bartender laugh one last time as they parted ways. 

San thought about Jongho’s question. Unexpectedly, he now had an answer. That was single handedly the one person in the entire venue that piqued San’s interest. He had no intentions, nor interest in really looking for anyone else the rest of the night. He felt a mysterious pull towards the dancer, and just like any other work task, he felt inclined to pick apart the pieces and solve it like a problem. Who is this person? Why is he so distracted by them? Is he… unwell?

“How is Yeosang?” Mingi’s voice snapped San back into the conversation

“Good,” Jongho started. 

“He’s okay with you being out at a place like this?”

“It’s company bonding,” Jongho responded. “Plus, no one in here could hold a light up to his beauty if they tried.”

Everyone groaned jokingly in disgust of Jongho’s admiration for his boyfriend. It was undeniable that Yeosang had the face and body of god, and Jongho made sure no one at the office forgot that. 

“What about you, San?” Jongho shot back. “Are you seeing anyone? Or are you still married to that contract from last week?”

“Funny.” San raised his eyebrows, amused. The dancer crossed his mind. “But no. I just don’t have the time.”

“He barely has time for us, Jongho.” Hongjoong stirred his drink. “We should pray he begins an affair with something other than the gym.”

They all laughed at the long running joke. He tried to re-engage, but San found himself drifting out of the conversation again. He searched the vicinity for that one dancer, but they were nowhere to be found. The lights dimmed slightly as the stage lit up brighter, signaling a main stage performance. There was one each hour; the rest were private or specially requested dances. San turned his head and watched as the dancer who he had been eyeing at the bar slowly walked out from behind the curtain, sauntering down the catwalk in pleasers. His search was complete. His heart skipped a single beat. It was not that San had never seen beautiful dancers before. In fact, it wasn’t just about this dancer’s looks. Something about their aura enraptured San, something made him feel like if he looked away he would never be able to look again. He feared missing a single opportunity to study them. He just had to give all his attention to them, pulled in past the point of no return with a single stare. The dancer walked past him, sparing only a brief glance in his direction. 

San’s gaze followed the dancer to the end of the catwalk, concentrating on all the small details. He watched their chest rise and fall with slow, deep breaths as they bent backwards. He counted the strands of black and white hair that fell forward and around the ears fixed on his head. He studied the way their outfit’s straps bent and stretched under the mesh robe with each position and each rotation. His observation came with a sense of urgency. He wanted to remember as much as he could. 

Even though San was sitting behind the dancer relative to him facing forward towards the audience, he couldn’t help but feel as if they were purposefully turning back towards him more often than they should. You should never keep your back towards your audience, right? He watched with his mouth slightly ajar, periodically swallowing and licking his lips from dryness. The dancer let the sheer black robe fall from one shoulder, then the next, rotating around the pole effortlessly. 

San realized a little too late that the dancer was drifting straight towards him with unwavering eye contact. The robe fell off their wrists, crumpling soundlessly on the ground behind them. The dancer slowly dropped to his knees in front of San, dragging the palms of his hands down his torso and the length of his thighs until they touched the ground. He crawled forward on all fours, still towards San, smiling devilishly. San was so entirely captivated, mesmerized, he could barely hear the clapping and cooing from Mingi and Hongjoong just a few feet away. The dancer leaned forward, looking down over San, then pulled back into a cat-like stretch. He turned on his side to lay on his back, arching over the edge to let his head hang upside down over the edge of the stage. They dragged their hands over their skin again, with unwavering eye contact. San’s eyes followed his hands all the way up one outstretched leg and back down to his torso. The slow beat of the music and red lights made everything feel like it was in slow motion. San felt his eyelids go a little heavy. Like a siren,  the dancer demanded all his attention, putting under a spell where he would willingly throw himself over any edge. Snapping out of trance for just a second, San extended his own hand to reach the dancer’s, carrying a tip in hand. The dancer accepted, taking the tip between his index and middle fingers, dragging it down his body and tucking it into one of the straps of his outfit just above his hips. They winked, rolling back over to stand up and make their way back to the center stage pole.

San watched the rest of the routine, mesmerized by the dancer’s flowing movements, silhouette, and inexplicably flexible lines. Every so often, the dancer would peek over their shoulders back towards San, as if to check if he was still watching. To make sure he was still watching. The song came to a slow, volume dwindling down as the dancer rotated upside down, descending to the floor for a final pose. Patrons stood at the edge of the stage holding out tips for the dancer, of which some were thrown towards him. The dancer rose to his feet, only accepting those that were still outstretched and in hands, blowing small kisses and smiling infectiously. A waiter came around the end of the stage, collecting the other loose bills scattered on the floor. The dancer swayed elegantly back down the catwalk, picking up their robe seductively and throwing it over one of his shoulders, holding it by just his fingertips. San’s gaze stayed fixed on them as they disappeared behind the curtain, sparing one last glance directly at him. 

“He was good,” Mingi said after a sip of his drink. “There is no way in hell I would ever be able to do those splits.”

“Maybe it’s easier when you’re upside down like that,” Yunho facetiously rubbed his chin, as if in deep thought. “Since the gravity is pushing your legs down… you should get up and try it.”

They both laughed as Mingi punched Yunho’s arm playfully. The sound of their laughter brought San back down to earth. He blinked, unsure what to make of the experience he just had. He became suddenly aware of the heat that radiated up from below his collar. He needed to cool off.

“I’ll get the next round,” He stood up. “Orders?”

San memorized Hongjoong and Jongho’s requests and walked towards the bar. He leaned against the cold, stone edge and waited for the bartender to make their way down. As he waited, he searched the room for the dancer once more with no success. The cool air radiating off the metal countertop felt grounding. After some time, he turned back around to admire the light installation behind the bar. He became lost in thought, flashing images of the dancer intertwined with his schedule for the week. The bartender finally approached San, apologizing for the wait and giving him a glass of water while they took his order. He swirled the ice in his glass and lifted it to his lips. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” A voice quipped from behind San. He didn’t have to turn around; but an all too familiar figure with black ears atop their head walked up to the bar next to him before he could respond. He nearly spat the water back into the glass. All he could hope for was that his eyes didn’t widen as obviously as it felt they did. “Certainly looked like you did.”

“Yes. Yeah. You’re um… quite talented.” He replied, licking his lips nervously.

“Thank you,” The dancer folded the see-through robe in a cross over his chest and extended a hand, introducing himself. “Young.”

“Choi San.” San shook his hand. Why the hell did he just give his real name? First and last?

 “I haven’t seen you here before, have I?” Young smiled, like he knew San had just slipped up and accidentally gave out valuable information. Young’s voice was sultry and striking, in the way a spicy honey introduces its unexpected heat in tandem with its sweetness. Upon getting a closer look at their face, San noticed a small dot under their eye on one side, almost covered by the long blonde bangs that fell daintily over his eyes.

“No, I’m…” San could hear his heartbeat. “I’m here on a company outing.”

“ Company outing?” Young raised an eyebrow, making himself comfortable at the bar next to San. His body language was relaxed, but was no doubt completely attentive towards San.

“It’s–” 

“You don’t have to explain,” Young smiled and laid his hand softly on San’s forearm, reassuring him. “I don’t need to know why you’re here or what company you work for.”

San couldn’t help but focus on the warmth of Young’s hand, transferring through both layers of his blazer and button up. 

“But, I do want to know one thing.” Young removed his hand and turned his body towards San, already searching for an answer in his eyes. “Do you stare at every dancer like that?”

San gulps and licks his lips again, unable to answer. What does he mean, stare? Stare like what?

“Oh…” Young realizes that San is oblivious. He shoots San a teasing, but knowing look. “You’re not aware of it, are you?” 

He flicks his eyes down to San’s mouth and back up to his eyes, a devilish smile on his lips.

“How do I stare?” San held his breath. 

“Hm,” Young hummed like San’s question was more than enough to answer any further questions he had. “Maybe if I get a closer look next time, I’ll let you know.”

“Next time?”

“You’re gonna tell me there won’t be a next time?” Young looked San up and down. His stomach flipped. San tried to convince himself that their interaction was wholly impersonal. He was sure this was a business tactic to get him to return. Any nervous feeling he was having around Young was simply a product of not getting out much. “Look, I don’t dance like that for just anyone. And I’m guessing you don’t watch just anyone dance.”

“Am I not just anyone?” San asked.

“Hm,” Young hesitated again, mulling over his choice of words carefully. “Let’s say you’ve piqued my interest, Choi San . If you come back, you can ask for me.”

“Ask for you by name? Or just look for your cat ears?” San attempted to joke to soothe his nerves.

“They’re fox ears, actually.” Young reached his fingers up to fluff the base of one of his ears, smiling proudly. “But whatever you wish, pretty boy.”

San wished he had some flirty banter to respond with, but was at a loss for words after that endearment. Pretty boy . 

“That was my last dance of the night,” Young turned and lightly placed his fingertips on San’s shoulder, lips leaning dangerously close to San’s ear. He could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin linger as he slipped away. “I’ll see you around.” 

San watched as Young walked away, exchanging waves and small laughs to the people he passed on the way to a back door. His aura was unmistakably charismatic. A perfect personality for a profession that relied on stealing hearts and minds. And boy did he get both of San’s.

San downed the rest of the  glass of water and sat back down with his friends, carrying the drinks carefully. He sat, noticing a head count of only four of them including himself. 

“Where’s Hongjoong?” He interrupted the conversation. Yunho nodded his head towards the bar, where Hongjoong could be seen talking to the same bartender Young was laughing with earlier, a coy smile across their face. He must have gotten up to see what was taking San so long, but ran into what looked like… quite the obstacle along the way. 

The night went on with different performers coming on and off stage, but San was unable to focus on any of them. His eyes constantly roamed the room, looking for a pair of ears or black flowing fabric. Even though San knew he wouldn’t be back on stage, he wouldn’t mind just watching him walk around the club. Young’s silhouette had already begun to take root in San’s mind. It’s all he thought about when he called a cab, walked into his apartment building, washed his face, undressed, and got into bed. From the club to his pillow, that dancer never left his mind. 

Young .

The next morning, San was plagued with a headache. He didn’t have more than a single drink very often, and the three (over the course of five hours) from last night were taking a toll on him. By the time they had arrived at the strip club, he wasn’t drunk by any means. He no longer had the metabolism of his college days. So then why did something about the time he spent there feel so… invigorating? He tried to recall the conversations he had with co-workers, but all that came to mind are small details of that dancer, Young. 

San checked his phone: Saturday. Damnit. Something about waking up late made San feel like it was Sunday. Sundays are the only days where San gives himself a real break (if you consider going to the gym and only answering emails a break). Saturdays, though, were for getting ahead on the upcoming week. 

Succumbing to his exhaustion and headache, he resigned on his work tasks in advance. The only thing he could maybe muster up any energy for was the gym. Before he rose to his feet, he heard a small pitter-patter approaching his bed. Byeol jumped up onto the sheets, meowing as she walked towards his head. He greeted her, nuzzling his head into hers. It didn’t take long for her to jump off the bed, crying louder, imploring him for breakfast.

“Okay, okay,” He laughed, rolling on his side and throwing the bedsheets off his body. “I’m coming, princess.”

San threw on workout clothes as Byeol scarfed down her meal. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” San ran his hand along her back and headed out his front door. 

Usually, the gym is a place to get his mind in order. The repetitive movements helped organize his mental to do list. It made him feel present in his body, too. He could always tell if he was getting sick, or if he was lacking sleep by the way he felt during his workouts. He was glad to work a job that allowed him to somewhat make his own schedule so he could give himself time like this. Being CEO of a large entertainment enterprise wasn’t where he pictured himself, but he was content nonetheless. For now, at least. 

San only had to take the elevator down a couple floors to get to the gym in his building. He was often the only one using the gym, and this time was no exception. He looked forward to the quiet room and an empty mind. However, this particular workout proved to be the exact opposite of everything he needed. 

He picked up dumbbells in each hand and looked up at the mirror in front of him, ready to watch his form. As his reps went on, his mind strayed. Images of the dancer from the night before clouded his vision, causing his form to slip. Time and time again, he tried to force the thoughts out. Focus. He tried switching machines. He tried sprinting. Nothing stopped his mind from fixating on the memories of Young: being caught staring, dancing in front of him, his silhouette, touching his arm, grazing his shoulder… everything. He stared at himself in the mirror after a hard sprint–fully occupied by thoughts of Young–sweaty and heaving. He was confused and in disbelief that he felt so out of control, so distracted. He ripped his shirt off in frustration and headed back to his apartment. So much for a min clearing workout. At least his headache was gone.

***

San forced himself out of bed on Monday morning and stumbled into a hot shower. As the steaming water hit the back of his neck, his mind continued to involuntarily recount the events at Blood Moon. He felt agitated, unable to do anything about his preoccupation with Young. He needed to get it together, fast. It was back to work, no more excuses. 

With a freshly brewed cup of coffee, San sat down on his couch, opened his laptop and lightly looked over his schedules. More than once, he found himself having to re-read simple sentences. He mixed up times in his head, and forgot to transfer small details from document to document. 

Perhaps he needed a change of scenery. Moving slowly, he packed up a bag of a few of his work supplies. San doesn’t technically have to be physically in the office on the days he doesn’t have meetings, so he opted to work at a new cafe Jongho had mentioned was not too far from the office. That way, if disaster somehow struck at work, San would be nearby. San’s cat, Byeol, continuously weaved in and out of his legs as he got dressed. By the time he was fixing his hair, she was yelling. 

“Hold on,” San said quietly to Byeol. “I’ll feed you in just a second.”

He combed the short sides of his hair back, leaving the top loose. San only wore a suit or blazer on the days he had to show face to clients. Today he opted for something more relaxed, what his friends mockingly called the “default business casual.” Even with the soft pullover, something about San’s demeanor always seemed serious. 

San glanced through his notifications as Byeol cleaned out her wet food at an alarming pace. It might be good to be someplace new, with no distractions or worries that he’d run into any regulars that attempt to strike up conversation with him. He left his apartment, hoping to finally get some work done and return to normalcy.

***

The cafe was busier than San anticipated, but not unsurprisingly. The ambiance was impeccable; natural light flooded in from two tall windows, reflecting off a light colored wall opposite. Long pothos were suspended from the high ceilings, almost hiding the artwork hung behind them. There was a modern feel to the place, but it thankfully lacked the emptiness that often comes along with it. It was the kind of place for first dates or meetings with old friends. It had an intiving, warm kind of atmosphere. San walked over to the line, staring up at the chalkboard menu. Then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar blonde and black combination. He froze.

The dancer, Young, was working behind the register. San’s stomach flipped and his ears warmed. He met Young in dim lighting, and was instantly captivated. San realized, though, that that lighting didn’t do them any justice. The natural sunlight so beautifully illuminated Young’s skin, even more beautifully than he had imagined it would. Even though the setting was quite different, San still felt that same, irresistible pull towards him. He became increasingly nervous as the line in front of him shortened. Soon, it was his turn to order. San stepped forward in line. 

“Hi,” Young smiled radiantly up at San. His voice didn’t falter, making San think that Young didn’t recognize him at all. Thank god. “What can I get started for you?”

San’s gaze fell to the dot below Young’s eye. His mouth went dry. 

“Sir?” Young inquired again, ducking his head slightly to reconnect his eyes with San’s.

“Just… an iced americano. No sugar, no cream.” San responded, pulling himself together and reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. 

“Perfect.” Young tapped a couple times on the screen. “Anything else?”

“A croissant, please.”

“Got it.” Young read off his total and ran the transaction.

“Oh,” San took his card back. “The name for the order is San.”

“I know,” Young smiled. “I remember.”

San felt his cheeks blush and his chest tighten. The dancer did remember him; he was just miles better at keeping a steady demeanor than San. Or maybe, he’s used to running into clientele in the wild. Either way, San was utterly unprepared.

“It’ll be out in just a bit.” His smile continued to beam at San.

San thanked him and walked away from the register, scanning the room for an open table to work at. Is it even a good idea to work here? Would he get any work done, or would he spend his time anxiously on his toes? San decided that nothing would shake him. He was going to stick to the plan, like usual. There is no reason a single man should change his day. The only things that change his days are reschedulings and Hongjoong’s occasional petulance. 

A table next to a window opened up and San settled in, taking out his laptop and opening up his planner. Another worker called out his name and he retrieved his order, stealing glances at Young as he approached and returned to his table. Young didn’t return a stolen glance, causing San to get back into his head. Was he getting signals? Is he reading too much into it? The questions continued to bombard his mind as he stared at his emails, rereading the same sentences three, four, five times over. A change in atmosphere proved to be useless, and probably worse when the subject of San’s rumination over the last few days was only meters away. He looked up from his screen, just above the rim of his glasses every once in a while to watch Young take orders and converse with the customers. He was so damn likable, with a pull that made you want to be in on whatever conversation he was having. Even though San knew he was just taking orders, he wanted to hear Young’s dulcet voice recite the same words over and over again. 

San responded to one email and looked up at the register once again, but saw a different employee working the register. San’s eyebrows visibly furrowed, partly in disappointment and partly in confusion. He had to remind himself that the reason he came to this café was to focus on his work, not to spend three hours ogling at the most beautiful man he’d ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. San takes the loss of looking away from Young’s beauty in stride, and begins to sift through his schedule for the week. Just as he begins to truly get something done, a familiar voice interrupts him. 

“I like the glasses. You look even more serious than you do in a suit.” San didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know who it was. His voice was permanently branded in his memory.

Young sat in the chair opposite San, smiled, and tilted his head slightly to the side. 

“Oh,” San was dumbfounded. He scanned him up and down. Young’s loose, knit sweater draped heavily off his shoulders. The baggy and cozy clothes seemed so natural on him, compared to what San had met him in initially. The top half of his hair was tied back in a small ponytail, barely holding any hair out of his face. For the first time, it struck San that he might be younger than him. “Thanks, um–”

“You can call me Wooyoung.”

“Wooyoung.” San repeated under his breath.

“ But, ” Wooyoung continued, raising his finger to point directly at San. “If you ever show back up at my other place of work and call me that in front of other clients, I will have you permanently banned. Understood?”

“Understood.” San bowed his head in promise. Wooyoung was so forward and bold with his approach, but San adjusted quickly. Even though it was just an introduction, their conversation felt like it had already been well underway. 

“An iced americano with no sugar, no cream?” Wooyoung gestured his head towards San’s half-finished drink. “Do you hate joy?”

“I like efficiency,” San couldn’t stop the small smile on his lips. Wooyoung laughed in response. 

“So then, San,” Wooyoung leaned forward over the table slightly. “What do you do? What company has such outings? Do you come here often?”

“I…” San hesitated for a second. Saying his job title sounds pretentious, but saying his area of business is just as bad. He was still trying to grasp the fact that Wooyoung was here, sitting in front of him, who chose to approach him first. “I’m a CEO.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung coos, surprised. “Big boy job, huh?”

“I guess,” San shrugged. “And you?”

“Just working here for now,” Wooyoung nodded towards the main counter. “And there , obviously. You’ve got me here now though, or at least until my break is over.”

They talked like old friends, catching up after years of separation. What do you do? Where are you from? How old are you (San’s gut was correct; he was four years Wooyoung’s senior)? Do you have siblings? The questions seemed endless. San learned that they lived pretty different lives. San was the youngest, Wooyoung the middle child. San grew up quietly, but well off. Wooyoung moved around a lot, his family unable to make ends meet from city to city. San was a Cancer, Wooyoung a Sagittarius. Incompatible, apparently. Their personality types further emphasized their differences. San owned his apartment outright, while Wooyoung was living with four roommates and had just enough to get by working his two jobs. Wooyoung twirled San’s pen between his fingers as he listened to San nervously talk about himself. This cafe, where they sat talking about everything and nothing, seemed to be the sole convergence of their lives. Otherwise, San wouldn’t venture to where Wooyoung was, and vice versa.

Every word, every topic, flowed so freely and naturally between them. San couldn’t tell if it was just Wooyoung’s sheer skill that carried the conversation like so, or if he himself was really upping his game (most likely it was the former). Wooyoung playfully teased him in almost every other sentence, and enduring it was worth seeing his smile and hearing his laugh. He was joyous. He was bright. He reminded San that life outside of work existed, and that maybe, spending more time away from those gray walls was worth it. He forgot what he had been missing.

Wooyoung pulled out his phone to check the time. 

“Ah,” He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that framed his face just for them to fall forward again. “My break is over in two minutes, and I still need to pee before I clock back in. But I want to ask you one last question.”
“Do you usually end all your conversations with a question?” San asked.

“Maybe,” Wooyoung smiled, falling silent. The pause felt nervous, as if he was unsure as to whether to ask the question he had intended, or lie and make up a new one. San waited patiently, holding his breath. “Are… you single?”

“What?” San was taken aback. He didn’t know what to make of Wooyoung’s question. “Um, I mean, yes. Yeah, I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Hm.” Wooyoung’s nervousness seemed to have all but disappeared. “Good.”

“Good?” 

“A lot of people who show up to Blood Moon are married,” He tucked his hair behind his ear. “And I was just wondering if you were one of them. I’m glad you’re not, though.”

Wooyoung paused again, this time seemingly filled with anticipation. 

“Perhaps I’ll see you around though, San.” He stood up from the table. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Wait–” San lifted off his chair, stopping Wooyoung from beginning to walk away. He received a kind but puzzled look from Wooyoung. 

“You…” San sat back down and pulled the cap of his pen off with his teeth, leaving it there as he scribbled on his notepad and ripped a piece off. “I want you to have my number.”

“For?” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t stop the slightly giddy smile that spread across his face. If he was trying to act genuinely puzzled as to why San would give him his number, he failed terribly.

“If you’d, um,” San recapped his pen. “If you want to stay in touch.”

Wooyoung erupted into laughter. He liked playing around with San, making him say all his thoughts and intentions out loud even if Wooyoung already knew them.

“Okay, boss man.” Wooyoung giggled. “I’ll stay in touch.”

San admired Wooyoung as he walked away, radiating that distinct, charming air. 

***

It had been two days since San last saw Wooyoung,  five since he gave him his phone number. San had stopped by the cafe a couple more times on the way to work, running into Wooyoung and bantering a little at the register. He never caught him on his break again, and duty called San. The anxiety of waiting for a text from an unknown number was starting to get to San. He was even checking his junk folders and settings, in case it got automatically filtered as spam. He picked up telemarketing calls, hoping that he would hear that familiar, honeyed voice. His mind wandered more and more often, replaying moments from the cafe and images from the club. Was he coming off too strong? Was he not Wooyoung’s type? Does he come off too solemn? Does Wooyoung have a policy of not dating people he meets at the strip club? Is Wooyoung even single ? He should’ve known that getting back into dating would be a disaster. This is why he didn’t date in the first place. San had jealous, overprotective tendencies. Nothing toxic or unhealthy, of course. But San was the type to fully commit himself from the beginning and lead with honesty. Sometimes, that was overwhelming to people. San learned that the hard way. 

After quiet deliberation, San decided he was overthinking. Usually, he would have confided in Hongjoong or Yunho. However, something about the circumstances made San apprehensive. Not that there was any problem with Wooyoung or what he did, but the San knew he would only get a never ending “We told you so!” from the entire office. He had been thinking about becoming a regular at the café Wooyoung worked at, but those were just fantasies so far. He decided to text Hongjoong for some vague advice, without hinting that he was the reason San ever met Wooyoung in the first place. 

San

I have a question. 

Hongjoong

Yes?

San

If I met someone

Is it weird to meet them again at their place of work?

Hongjoong

Huh?

What?

You met someone?

San placed his phone face down on the desk and rubbed his eyes. Damnit. 

Hongjoong

Hello??

San

Maybe

Not really

We haven’t gone on any dates or anything

Hongjoong

But you want to?

San

Maybe

Hongjoong

Are you in the office?

San

No

He lied. 

Hongjoong

I swear I see your lights on

San 

If you come into my office you are fired

Hongjoong

You’re acting awfully suspicious 

Anyways

If that’s the only way you met him, and the only place you go its not weird

Just don't show up and BE weird

San

What does that mean

Hongjoong

Godspeed Choi San

Don’t act like you just happened to drop by

Go with intention, actually talk to him rather than buying something or whatever and leaving

I don’t know what you mean by “place of work” but you could be more specific maybe

San

Okay

And no thank you

Hongjoong

You’re a bastard

Keep me updated

Good luck!

Hongjoong’s advice only helped marginally. If anything, though, it helped him ultimately decide to visit Wooyoung at Blood Moon again. If it wasn’t clear that his interest was reciprocated, he wouldn’t make any more efforts to run into him. Sure meeting at the strip club wasn’t ideal, but maybe the atmosphere would embolden San to say something he wouldn’t normally say in a coffee shop. 

That evening, San stared at four pairs of slacks laying at the foot of his bed. One black, one dark gray, one dark navy, and one darker black. With such a wide variety to choose from, San felt stuck. He had chosen a looser, black button up to wear to the club. It might make him stand out a bit less, just in case he decided that he would rather lay low and needed to make an emergency escape. Byeol weaved through his ankles, her tail standing tall in the air asking for attention. 

“I don’t know which one is best,” San said to Byeol in a tiny voice. He leaned down to pick her up, cradling her in his arms. “I don’t want to look stupid. That would be bad, hm?”

Byeol meowed as she lifted off the floor. She sniffed San's face, and instantly requested to be put back down. 

“Demanding,” San set her down on his bed. She sniffed the slacks on the bed, laying down in a loaf on top of the darkest black pair. “But I’ll take that as your input.”

He planted a kiss on Byeol’s head as he carefully moved her back onto the ground. San pulled on the black pants and threw the button up over his shoulders. He looked at himself in the mirror. The shirt and pants fit him nicely–of course they did, he had to have everything tailored due to his highly inconvenient proportions–but it all seemed… too plain. He rummaged around the drawer where he kept his accessories: watches, cufflinks, collar pins and chains, rings. He slipped on his watch and checked in the mirror again. No, too garish. He exchanged the watch for three silver rings and a medium length herringbone chain. He checked his appearance again. Better, not too flashy. Still a bit out of his comfort zone, but everything about this evening was going to be anyways. A nervous feeling rose in his stomach as he headed out the door. 

“Wish me luck, Byeol.” He gave her final scratches on her chin, and locked his apartment behind him. 

***

San walked in the doors of Blood Moon, keeping his body language as muted as possible. After paying the cover, he headed towards a booth in the corner, furthest away from the catwalk in the middle of the room. 

His thoughts raced. What the hell was he doing here? He didn’t have the balls to ask Wooyoung for a private dance; just the thought of it made his pants feel tighter than usual. Should he look for him? No, he should remember that he’s nothing but a client. Well, a bit more. They hit it off pretty well at the cafe, right? Wooyoung’s… other place of work. Should he have waited until he ran into Wooyoung somewhere that wasn’t where he was on the fucking clock? Maybe this was all a bad idea. Then again, he did ask if San was single. That was a good sign, hopefully. 

He ordered a drink from a passing waitstaff and surveyed the club. It wasn’t long before he spotted those ears and blonde pieces peeking out from underneath. His stomach flipped. San thought it was cute that Wooyoung apparently always wore ears while he was working. He was thankful and terrified to see him all at the same time. Wooyoung was talking to the same bartender as last time, but this time seemed to be receiving instructions. Wooyoung was dressed in all black again, but this time the straps on his outfit were replaced with intricate lace detailing atop a skin tight mesh bodysuit. The kind of outfit that would surely show up in San’s dreams later. His hair looked a bit messier than usual, like he had spent some time lightly curling or styling it to be wind-swept. 

The bartender pointed at a small group of businessmen sitting not too far from San. Wooyoung began walking in his direction, and San sank deeper into the booth, hiding. He peeked around the corner to see Wooyoung chatting up clients, his long legs crossed as he sat on the edge of the stage. He transferred his weight onto his hands, as if to lift himself backwards onto the stage, but one of the men shot his hand out and snatched Wooyoung’s ankle pulling him off the stage.

San resisted a lurch in his chest. Although the grab seemed rough, Wooyoung laughed it off. San took that as a sign that everything was fine… for now. Watching Wooyoung converse with the men, San soon understood that the man who pulled at Wooyoung’s leg actions were actually a poor request for a lap dance. 

San watched in a burning hot envy as Wooyoung straddled the man, rolling his body in a wave. Wooyoung looked around him, making sure that he was giving a show to more than just the man at his feet. The men cooed and cheered as Wooyoung turned around, bending over to put his ass in his client’s face. San is not mad at Wooyoung, really. He’s mad at himself for not getting up and taking that dance for himself. His stare is so honed in on Young, San slowly forgets that there are people surrounding him as he dances. 

Suddenly, Wooyoung quickly pushes off the couch, as if the arms of the chair had quickly gotten hot. San snapped out of his daydream, confused at Wooyoung’s reaction. San can’t hear the specific words of the conversation over the music, but he heard enough to make out the tone: they were arguing. Something had happened. San shifted to the edge of his booth to get a closer look. Wooyoung had his finger pointed at the man, as if he was scolding him for something. The client was still smiling and joking as he reached out to grab Young’s wrist, yanking him forcefully back onto his lap. Young struggled to stand back up and free himself from the grip. The clientele around him simply laughed, babbling words of empty apology.

It all happened so fast. 

One second, San was taking the last sip of his drink. The next, he’s hovered over a man cowering on the floor as Wooyoung stood behind him, tugging at loose fabric around his waist. 

“ San,” Wooyoung pleaded. “Come on, let’s go.”

A flurry of apologies and pleas spilled from the man’s mouth as San stepped forward, unflinching.

“ San. ”

The second calling caused San to slowly come back down to earth. He blinked and turned around. Wooyoung looked frightened. Not of him, but of something else. Like they both had to run away from something. Without question, San followed Wooyoung out of the bar. He looked back, watching security approach where he had just left. Wooyoung walked past the bar, picking up a small bag before pushing the front doors wide open. The cold air stung San’s eyes. Wooyoung let go of San’s shirt angrily, throwing him forward like a dog. 

“You didn’t have to step in.” Wooyoung crossed his arms. “In fact, you shouldn’t have.”

Why was Wooyoung… upset? San wracked his brain for reasons, but nothing mattered more to him than Wooyoung’s safety. 

“Was I supposed to just watch and let him touch you like that?” San bit back with annoyed disbelief. 

Wooyoung paused. He looked up at the sky, taking in the dark that stared back. He reached into his bag and pulled out a cigarette and flame, lighting it soundlessly. He thought of explaining to San that this was sometimes part of the job. Debated scolding him for making him lose an exceptionally high paying party that would cover his rent for the next two months. Yes, he was thankful. But fuck he had worked hard to get to where he was now, and San was not going to take that from him simply because he couldn’t begin to comprehend the consequences. He lowered his gaze, but not towards San. He looked straight out into the street. The pause between them felt dense, as if a single movement from either of them would irreparably shatter and splinter the air around them. 

“Why are you here?” Wooyoung asked flatly. He continued to stare away from San.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

San hesitated. 

“I wanted to see you.”

“At my place of work?” Wooyoung took another hit from his cigarette.

“Well,” San rubbed the back of his neck. “You hadn’t texted me since I gave you my number.”

“And?”

“And… I wanted to see you dance again.”

Wooyoung scoffed. 

“And that entailed causing a scene like that? You could’ve gotten me taken off the floor permanently, or worse, fired. ” He finally shot a cold stare at San. “Do you know how fucking stupid I look bringing personal business into this place?”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you again.” San continued, bidding to keep Wooyoung’s favor. He could tell he struck a nerve somewhere, that this whole reaction wasn’t really about him , but about something else. Either way, he didn’t want to pry. Now wasn’t the time. San rubbed his face into his hands. “And I saw how he grabbed you, and how you swatted him away Wooyoung, I couldn’t stand by–”

“It’s part of the job. It fucking happens.” Wooyoung’s previously suppressed thoughts spilled out of his mouth. He bitterly inhaled. “What the hell do you know about any of this? Do you know how hard it is to get a party like that to be under my paycheck?”

“Wooyoung–”

“ Stop. Saying my name. ” Wooyoung grit his teeth. 

San was speechless. As much as he knew the source of Wooyoung’s anger was buried somewhere else, it hurt to hear that.

“Look. I’ve never… felt like how I felt watching you dance before. And how I felt seeing you at the cafe.” San tried to meet Wooyoung’s gaze. “I came because I wanted to talk to you again– I can’t stop fucking thinking about it and I didn’t know how to approach you without seeming like some creep and– and the memory of you only worsened after–”

“The memory?” Wooyoung raised his eyebrows. San’s face went hot. Once again, his nervousness got the better of him. Exactly which memory San meant didn’t matter. If Wooyoung didn’t know San was thinking about him constantly, he certainly knew now. 

San nodded slowly. Wooyoung’s expression changed slightly. They stared at each other, eyes meeting and the fleeting around their facial features, attempting to decipher each minute movement. He decided not to say anything more. This confession–or whatever it was–was going down in flames already. 

***

San was banned from the club. For how long, he had no idea. He didn’t plan on showing his face anytime soon anyways, especially after how things went with Wooyoung. Their conversation outside ended abruptly, and San didn’t know what to make of any of it. He couldn’t tell if Wooyoung thought he was just some creepy patron following him around. He probably has plenty of clients who are obsessed with him in the same way, who mistake his on the job demeanor as genuine. Why would San be the exception?

He splashed his face with water, disquieted from the evening’s events. Byeol meowed at his feet, as if to tell him that he was late for bed. San looked down at her and smiled. She always had a way of knowing when San was particularly distressed, and her solution was always sleep. San never quite learned, though. 

He listened to Byeols request and got into bed, tailing behind her. Turning off all the lights, Byeol was quick to claim her spot next to San’s head, kneading into the duvet. San placed his phone on his nightstand, kissed Byeol on her head and settled. 

Just after his first still breath, his phone vibrated. Damn it , he thought. He forgot to turn on the do not disturb. He picked up his phone to silence it, but the screen awakened. He read the notification:

Unknown

thank you.

San shot upright in his bed. He unlocked his phone and opened the conversation. It had to be him. 

Unknown

sorry that I was kinda rude earlier, i was just a bit shaken up

i’ve had something similar happen and it went much worse than this haha

but really i appreciate it

San

How are you? Is everything ok?

Wooyoung

yes, everything is 

i’m not allowed to go in the rest of this week tho

so you’ve got me down on two full days of work, choi san

haha

San

I’m so sorry

Can I make it up to you?

Wooyoung

make it up to me?

San 

It’s not your fault that you can’t go in

It’s mine

Wooyoung

omg i don’t want your money if that’s what you’re asking

i know you were just concerned for my safety

San

How about dinner?

Dinner? San’s palms were sweating. San hadn’t been on a date in years. Wait–was this a date? No. No, it’s just dinner. Probably. Maybe. He’s just making up for his actions. Right?

Wooyoung

oh

“Oh”? What does “oh” mean? San has no idea. He’s used to reading eloquent emails, not deciphering one word texts. He twiddled his thumbs over his keyboard, thinking nervously of what to say next.

San

I can host

We don’t have to go somewhere fancy

Wooyoung

hmmmmmm

San

I promise I’m an above average cook

Wooyoung

you are? i’m surprised you have time to do anything else but work

San

Hey

You can meet my cat? Does that sweeten the deal?

Wooyoung

hahaha i’m just messing with you 

dinner sounds lovely

i accept, boss man

It was a relief that Wooyoung’s tone was playful. San really thought he had lost his chance, thought that maybe Wooyoung would never forgive him for showing up at work and threatening his clientele. San quickly changed tabs on his phone and checked his calendar. He wanted to see Wooyoung as soon as possible. He recalled that Wooyoung usually works weekends; so if he can’t go in for two work days, that means he should be free both Friday and Saturday. 

San

Are you available this Friday?

Wooyoung

friday works!

San

Do you need a ride?

Wooyoung

no !! i don’t know if you want to be driving your fancy car around where I live

San

I don’t own a car, but I can call you a cab. 

Wooyoung

fine

deal

San smiled. Talking to Wooyoung again felt like a breath of fresh air. He felt like he had a chance again, and he was not going to continue a losing streak.

***

Over the next week, the office became suspicious of San’s particularly cheery demeanor. Not to say that he was always glowering around the office, but you surely couldn’t bet on him being the one with the highest energy at any given moment. San took more breaks during the day, loitering in the break room hoping to converse with someone. All his excitement and confusion had pent up inside of him, and was itching to get out somehow. Since he still wanted to keep everything secret–lest it crash and burn–connecting with others over other things was the only way he could satisfy his giddy itch without revealing anything. 

San sat in the break room, eating his lunch quietly as he scrolled on his phone. He was still working, of course, double checking his schedule. Footsteps echoed down the hall prompting San to look up. Hongjoong pushed the door open with his back, both hands occupied with one hot drink and one cold drink. He hummed obliviously, not yet realizing that he was not alone. San chewed silently and waited for him to notice. Hongjoong opened the small cabinet pantry and pulled an instant ramen off the shelf. It was a bit amusing, seeing Hongjoong so in his own world. He was always dedicated to his work, but rarely did San see him enjoy truly slowing down. His breaks were filled with activities, hobbies, and fashion projects. Anything but doing nothing. That’s why they worked so well together. 

Finally, Hongjoong turned around to lean back on the counter after pressing the boil on the electric kettle.

“F-Fucking hell–” He jumped back. San just sat there, smiling. Hongjoong’s shock quickly morphed into confusion. “Are you… eating lunch?”

“Yes?” San answered, swallowing his bite a bit too early. “Is that not allowed?”

“I’ve never seen you eat in here.” Hongjoong crossed his arms. “Are you doing okay?”

“What do you mean?” San looked down at his lunch. He thought that maybe Hongjong was commenting on what he was eating, as a sign of derailed health. It was nothing unusual, though. Just peppered beef over rice. 

“I know you prefer to eat alone,” He continued. “Since you work at the same time.”

“I guess,” San stated as if Hongjoong’s claim was news to him. “I just wanted to… see if anyone was around.”

“San.” Hongjoong paused. “We are around all day. We work here.”

San shrugged. He’s out of excuses, and is still very much a horrible liar. 

“What’s really going on?” The kettle let out a few high pitched beeps. He turned around to fill his cup with the boiling water. Without turning around, he asked, “Does this have anything to do with what you text me about?”

“Is me being out of my office really that strange?”

“Yes. It is.” Hongjoong almost cut San off. 

“Well,” San bounced his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl. “I think I have a date.”

“You think ?” Hongjoong whipped back around to look at San. “What do you mean you think? Were you weird like I told you not to be?”

“I wasn’t weird,” San recalled the last night at Blood Moon. Weird is the incorrect word and an understatement. “I’m just nervous about the whole thing.”

“You’re human,” Steam wafts out of the styrofoam cup and Hongjoong lifts the paper lid to check the noodles. “I would be more worried if you weren’t.”

San appreciated Hongjoong’s worry more than he would ever be able to admit. Still, he didn’t feel ready to confide in him about Wooyoung just yet. Thankfully, Yunho walked through the door, interrupting the conversation enough for them to completely change topics. He was soon followed by Jongho and Mingi, and yet again the five of them were together, talking as if no time had passed from that first evening. Bantering as if it was not the middle of a work day, but the middle of a long summer break.  He slowly felt the feeling of connectedness wash over him, calming his nerves and finally freeing his mind of the anxious rumination that had troubled him since that night. San offered to clean up after everyone, taking on more roles than he needed to (as usual). They took him up on the offer, but no one left the break room until San discarded the last piece of trash. The conversation followed out into the hall as they returned to their parts of the building. 

“San!” Hongjoong yelled back as he walked in the opposite direction. “Good luck!”

Even though they had no idea why Hongjoong was cheering San on, Ming, Yunho and Jongho all echoed him, yelling, “Good luck!”

He smiled. Only idiots gave unequivocal support, but he was glad to have these particular idiots. 

San walked the long way back to his office, taking a moment to peer out the windows into the vast expanse of the city. He looked down at the bristling trees in front of the building. From this high up, it almost seemed like they were all right next to each other, sitting together in the same planter. 

***

The call box on San’s door rang. Although he had been anticipating the noise for ten minutes, he still jumped. He jogged over to his intercom answer. As he pushed the small call button, the monitor revealed a low quality video of Wooyoung standing at the building doors.

“Hello?” Wooyoung called out. The contrast of the blonde and black in his hair stood out even more than San remembered.

“You can come up!” San answered. “Sixteenth floor, 1024.”

“Sixteenth? Jesus.” Wooyoung meant to mumble under his breath, but it came out louder than he expected. “Is this Choi San?”

“You’re asking after I unlocked the door for you?”

“Hey, just checking.” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, exiting the camera’s view. “I know you’re mister business and all, but this is insanely nice.”

San laughed nervously and took a deep breath. He quickly stepped into the bathroom, straightening his clothes and adjusting his hair one last time. Not much later, a knock sounded in the other room. San opened his front door with a nervous smile. 

“When you said you’d call me a cab,” Wooyoung said as he stepped forward and took off his jacket. “I expected a taxi cab. Not some secret agent black sports car.”

“Sorry,” San laughed, offering out his hand to take Wooyoung’s jacket. His eyes panned down to the small bit of skin revealed between the button’s of Wooyoung’s black silk button up. “It’s a company car.”

“Mhm…” Wooyoung handed San his jacket and watched him hang it up, very privy to the fact that San was indeed staring at his chest. “And you didn’t warn me that I’d be in some multi-million dollar penthouse–”

“The penthouse is on the twenty-fifth floor.”

“Oh, excuse me .” Wooyoung mocked. 

The sound of a tiny bell rang down the hall, followed by a curious meow. San observed as Wooyoung’s face softened from a pout into a fawn. Crouched on his knees, Wooyoung reached his hand out patiently as the cat approached him. Byeol looked to San, as if waiting for some signal that it was okay to approach.

“It’s okay,” San cooed. “Her name is Byeol.”

“Hi baby girl,” Wooyoung’s voice was warm and endearing. “Hello!”

San observed their interaction with a smile on his face. Usually Byeol was a little shy, but after two sniffs of Wooyoung she was already marking his knees. 

“She’s so sweet.” Wooyoung continued to scratch under Byeol’s chin, making expressive faces at her.

“She’s usually a bit shy,” San said. “But she seems to like you.”

“Must be a good sign, no?”

“Must be.” San laughed. “Make yourself comfortable, I just have a few things to finish up. Do you want something to drink in the meantime? We’re eating steak, if that changes your answer.”

“Hm,” Wooyoung considered San’s offer without tearing his attention away from Byeol. “Chef’s choice.”

“Are you okay with wine?”

“Yes.” Wooyoung blushed a little under his makeup. San was so polite, so formal, asked so many questions. Wooyoung wasn’t used to it. He sat on a stool at the kitchen island and watched as San navigated his kitchen. San’s resting face was still rather serious, firm with focus, like he had forgotten someone was observing him. It was endearing. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung spoke up. San quickly turned his full attention towards him, even though Wooyoung wished he hadn’t. “I’m sorry… about what happened.”

“Hm?” San blinked, confused. “It’s okay.”

“No, it's not.” Wooyoung sat up straight on the island stool. “I want to tell you.”

“I’m listening.” San set down the silverware and turned completely towards Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung almost melted back into his dreamy position. San’s voice sounded so gentle, so genuine. His attention is all on him. 

“A while ago,” Wooyoung swallowed. “I had a new guy come in. He eventually became my regular, and he requested me pretty often and he paid really well. Eventually, though, when I was busy with another party, he would get upset and request security to stop me. 

Security didn’t listen, of course, ‘cause I was just doing my job. But then after a while he became angrier, and started coming up to closed booths demanding I get out. He got violent, one time, and caused a huge scene. It was nothing like you, you sort of just… stood all tough over that guy after knocking him off his chair.” Wooyoung laughed, recollecting. “He didn’t really have any balls, huh?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t get around to kicking them.” San joked with the same serious expression on his face. It earned him another laugh from Wooyoung.

“Anyways, he kept showing up and breaking shit, so eventually that club had to let me go. Which sucked, and I had a hard time finding new gigs since he would follow me around club to club. It was really difficult to scrounge up enough doing side jobs to pay the bills.”

San saw Wooyoung flip through his memories with anguish. He could tell it wasn’t easy to talk about it, but he was telling him anyway. San wouldn’t let this opportunity to be there for Wooyoung slip through his fingers. 

“And when you got up, and that guy was yelling, it just–” Wooyoung continued. “Reminded me of that. I don’t want to be scraping by again. And for a second I thought you were just like him, but then I remembered how you were at the cafe. You’re not. You’re not like him.”

Tears welled in Wooyoung’s eyes, threatening to spill over. He blinked them back as San walked around the counter to meet him. 

“Thank you for telling me,” San sat next to Wooyoung, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Again, I’m sorry–”

“No, I’m sorry–” Wooyoung laughed abashedly. “I was the one who was fucking rude–”

“Hey.” San leaned forward. “It’s okay.”

Wooyoung looked at him for the first time since he began explaining himself. A look of gratitude for San’s compassion and kindness 

“I don’t mean to get all emotional and heavy,” Wooyoung apologized. “I just wanted to say something about it in person. Just so we’re okay.”

“We’re okay.” San responded.

Wooyoung felt a soft touch at his feet and looked down to find Byeol, purring and whipping the tip of her tail back and forth. She let out a squeaky, curious meow.

“She says so too.” San smiled down at Byeol with Wooyoung.

“Thank you, Byeolie.” Wooyoung reached down to scratch the top of her head. Suddenly, she jumped up on his leg and sped away. Zoomies. 

***

“So, how’s work?” Wooyoung asked. He rested his chin on his hand, chewing a mouthful of food. 

“It’s okay,” San wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Busy, as usual. But, do you really want to talk about my corporate work?”

“If you’d let me continue,” Wooyoung teased. “You would’ve seen that I was about to ask you what you do besides work.”

They laughed together. San fought the urge to smack his hand on his forehead. He was so used to being blunt and to the point. His honesty was his greatest virtue, but also his biggest obstacle–especially when it came to dating. He forgot how bad it was. 

San shared most of his childhood, growing up in the countryside and practicing taekwondo. He mentioned how his friends made fun of him for being married to the gym, but explained the reprieve it offered him. 

“How did you get into… dancing?” San asked. 

“You mean stripping?” Wooyoung responded. “I’ve been dancing my whole life, and it sort of felt natural. I just became really good at it and realized I could make more than a couple bucks, you know?”

“I mean, you’re more than just really good.” San looked down at his plate, avoiding eye contact. 

“Oh,” Wooyoung faked a surprised expression. “Are you an expert?”

“No,” San thought. “But I’m maybe an expert in you .”

Wooyoung roared in laughter. “If you took out the maybe in that sentence, it would’ve been better.”

They conversed well after their plates emptied, and desserts were cleared, getting to know each other through jokes and quips, confessions and secrets. Although Wooyoung offered to help clean, San refused. All Wooyoung managed was moving his places to the counter next the sink before San was grabbing his shoulders, directing him to sit at the counter so they could continue their conversion. Wooyoung sat and watched the way San’s back moved as he scrubbed and rinsed the dishes, periodically losing himself in thought. San could feel Wooyoung’s stare pierce into his back. He wished he could see Wooyuong’s face, know what he was thinking. 

San wiped his hands clean one last time and he started the dishwasher. 

“Do you want another glass?” San gestured towards the empty glass Wooyoung was swiveling in front of him.

“Just water,” Wooyoung pushed it forward. “Please.”

San smiled at his politeness. He removed their wine glasses and replaced them with two new water glasses as he sat down at the island counter next to Wooyoung. Wooyoung leaned his cheek on his hand, staring dreamily at San.

“What?” San asked after a few moments of silence and awkward non-verbal inquiry.

“You know,” Wooyoung rested his flushed cheek heavily on the palm of his hand. He stared into San’s eyes for a long second. “The first time I met you, the first time you came to the club with all your co-workers,”

“They’re my friends too, you know.” San interrupted.

“Okay okay,” Wooyoung laughed sweetly. “When you first came to the club with your friends…”

San nodded. He was trying so hard to focus on Wooyoung’s words. His eyes and his mind kept drifting to Wooyoung’s lips, down to his neck, and settled on his bare chest for a few seconds before flicking back up to his eyes. He needs to keep some decency.

“You know how I asked you if you looked at every dancer like that?” Wooyoung ran his tongue against his teeth.

“I hadn’t been to a strip club since college,” San said, answering some imaginary question that was not the one Wooyoung had just asked. Wooyoung raised his eyebrows in surprise at San’s avowal. 

“I don’t care if you have, San.” Wooyuong laughed at his seemingly guilty response.

“I know I just,” San rubbed his face. “I didn’t want you to think that when I saw you it was like… seeing everyone else, you know?”

“You made me feel like I was only performing for you,” Wooyoung almost whispered the confession. “Like you’d rented out the whole fucking place, and it was just us. I’d never had so much… real attention on me.”

San’s mouth hung open slightly, aching to breathe the same air as Wooyoung. 

“Would…” Bravery washed over San. “You want to dance just for me?”

“Are you requesting a dance?” Wooyoung’s speech was slow and tantalizing. He bit his lip, attempting to conceal a coy smile. 

“Are you offering?”

“So many questions,” Wooyoung spread his legs and placed both hands on the stool, leaning forward closer to San. “And so few answers.”

San’s breath hitched. He has never seen the dot on Wooyoung’s lip so clearly, never smelled his cologne so strongly. 

“Answer me, hyung .” Wooyoung spoke softly. “Do you want a dance?”

San felt like prey, Wooyoung his predator. He couldn’t move, frozen under Wooyoung’s daunting display of prowess over him. It was the same feeling he felt the first time he watched Wooyoung perform at Blood Moon. Imbued with vigor, yet drunk with lust. San’s eyes flicked around to every feature on Wooyoung’s face. His lips, his teeth, his tongue hiding behind them, his eyes, his heavy eyelashes, his cheekbones, his hair, his collarbones titled towards him. The anticipation hung thick in the air, and San let it linger.

“Yes.” He finally breathed out. 

“Yes what?” Wooyoung toyed with him. 

“Yes,” San licked his lips and tried to steady his breath. “I want you to dance for me.”

San had no idea what he was in for. He saw Wooyoung’s eyes flash with a devilish intensity before suddenly, their faces were centimeters apart. San leaned in for what he thought was a kiss, but was stopped by the tip of Wooyoung’s finger landing on his chin. For another long moment, they stared at each other. Every fiber of San’s being wanted to erupt into a frenzy. He ached to pull Wooyoung’s body flush to his, to kiss and ravage his skin. His urge threatened to consume him, but Wooyoung had him wrapped around his finger. Unless Wooyoung willed it, San would stay put. 

Wooyoung slid off the stool and pushed their glasses to the center of the island, away from them. 

He guided San to face him, his back leaned against the island counter. He began to turn and bend, swaying his hips dangerously close to San’s lap. 

San’s hands naturally reached out to grab Wooyoung’s waist, hoping to pull him in closer. 

“Ah, ah,” Wooyoung reprimanded him. “No touching.”

San clenched his jaw. Even if he wanted to retaliate, if he wanted to disobey Wooyoung, he couldn’t. Although his mind was disobedient, lost in thoughts and images and wondered what it would be like to taste inside Wooyoung’s mouth, his body was at the absolute mercy of Wooyoung’s command. He watched as Wooyoung danced around him, only grazing his body against his. The movements were familiar, the kind of rolling and gyrating San observed from a distance. Up close, each action felt different. The weight was different; it felt like Wooyoung was catering to him, like he knew exactly what San wanted. 

“Close your eyes.” Wooyoung’s whisper sent shivers down San’s spine. San listened, and heard Wooyoung get on the counter behind him. Before he could ask what the hell Wooyoung was doing on his counter, he felt the warm caress of a thigh on each side of him. Wooyoung sat being him, straddling him between his thighs. Wooyoung traced his fingers along San’s shoulders, humming quietly. He knew he had San wrapped around his finger, exactly where he wanted him. 

“Is this what you thought about when you first saw me dance?” Wooyoung whispered. “Did you picture me grinding in your lap? Straddling you?”

Wooyoung ran his hands forward, over San’s shoulders and down his chest. 

“Did you think about touching me?” 

“Wooyoung…” San’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Wooyoung was right. San wished he had the gall to ask Wooyoung for a private dance, but didn’t have enough faith that he would be able to keep his composure during it. 

San couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, kicked the stool aside and jolted forward, caging Wooyoung in his spot on the counter. Without thinking, San grabbed the small of Wooyoung’s back and yanked him forward so Wooyoung’s hips were flush against his own. 

Wooyoung’s surprised gasp quickly turned into something of a low hum, satisfied with the bulge he knew he caused grinding into him. San rested his forehead against Wooyoung’s, breathing hard, still trying to control himself. Their proximity made San crazy. His hands wandered up and down Wooyoung’s back as he inhaled his intoxicating scent, high off the mere thought of tasting him. Wooyoung cupped San’s face in his hands, steadying their gaze. San was exactly where Wooyoung wanted him, on the brink of madness. His eyelids hung heavily with longing, his mouth dry. He looked at Wooyoung as if he were an angel who had fallen just for him.

“Give in.”

The command set him in motion instantly. San crashed his mouth into Wooyoung, moaning full of lust as he finally reaped the fruits of his patience. They kissed fast and fervently, as if there were only two minutes left in this world. Wooyoung arched his back, pressing into San harder. His hands slid down San’s face and neck as he began to undo the buttons down his shirt. 

San rested his hands on each of Wooyoung’s thighs, digging his finger tips deeper each time Wooyoung grinded forward. They were both desperate, both hesitating.

“Fuck,” San swore under his breath. 

Wooyoung laughed at his loss of composure. The stand up CEO was suddenly a ravenous mess under him, the desperation in his  gaze more animal than human.

“Take me.” Wooyoung raked his hands through the side of San’s hair, smiling at the way he leaned into the touch. 

“Take you where?” Lust stricken, San’s comprehension took a back seat.

“To bed, you idiot.” Wooyoung giggled. The playfulness vanished from his voice as he leaned forward to whisper against San’s ear, “I want you to fuck me the way you look at me.”

Blood rushed to San’s head. He couldn’t deny the fact that there were times he looked at Wooyoung and only thought about what it would be like to touch him, or what it would sound like to have him falling apart under him. 

“I know you think about fucking me,” San could feel Wooyoung’s mischievous smile form against his neck as he laid small pecks down his skin. “You think I wouldn’t notice?”

San clenched his teeth as Wooyoung nibbled at his earlobe, the acute pain shooting down his body. He guided Wooyoung’s legs to hook around his waist and lifted him off the counter with ease. Nevertheless, Wooyoung let out a small yelp in surprise. 

“You’re one hell of a sweet talker, Wooyoung.” San said punishingly.

San pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder, and kicked it closed behind him. He sat Wooyoung on top of his dresser, separating their bodies to begin undressing the man in front of him. Wooyoung leaned back on his hands, watching San continue to lose himself in the revelation of more and more skin. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Wooyoung teased, a bit shy at the intensity of San’s stare. Although he was being smart with San, it was beyond endearing to see San regard him with such devotion. If Wooyoung ever had doubts about the authenticity of San’s intentions, or his feelings, they were slowly being forgotten.

“That doesn’t make it any less breathtaking from the first time I saw you.” San tenderly kissed the soft spot on Wooyoung’s neck, making him crane his neck and mewl. San slipped Wooyoung’s shirt off his shoulders, moving his kisses across Wooyoung’s collarbone to his shoulder. 

“Do you want me to strip for you?” Wooyoung asked, realizing the difficulty of their position. Taking off pants sitting upright while trying to straddle San seemed less than ideal. San stepped back.

“No,” He huffed impatiently. He would enjoy the show, but the idea of being separated from Wooyoung for too long made him restless.“But I’ll give you two seconds.”

Wooyoung stilled for a brief moment, shocked at San’s first display of dominance. This whole time, Wooyoung was sure he’d be in command. That’s how it usually went for him. A bit too bratty for his own good, no one challenged his teasing enough to make him submit at all. In all honesty, he didn’t think San would be too different. Over time Wooyoung had found that the types that are in control, or hold a consistent position of power, wanted to leave it all behind when they entered the bedroom. They are the ones that offered to fork over more money than Wooyoung had ever seen in his life just to be called pathetic. Once again, though, San proved him wrong.

He quickly shook off his surprise and hastily began unbuttoning and pulling off his jeans. Hunger glossed over San’s eyes, making Wooyoung feel like prey. It was similar to the expression that was permanently fixed on San’s face when he danced for him, but this time there was an unruly intent that Wooyoung knew he would not escape. When the waist of his pants hit just above his knees, San stepped in. 

“Too slow.” San snatched both of Wooyoung’s wrists away from his task, planting them back on the top of the dresser. 

San kissed Wooyoung until he felt his muscles settle into position, assuring his hands would stay where they were. Once satisfied, he pulled away slowly and began to sink to his knees, pulling down the rest of Wooyung’s pants. He threw them aside, wasting no time returning his attention to Wooyoung’s legs spread above him. Once back at eye level, San pulled Wooyoung’s hips flush against his own once again. This time, with less fabric interfering, Wooyoung whined louder. He threw his arms around San’s shoulders, smashing into another brazen kiss. San lifted Wooyoung again, making a beeline for the bed. San moved his hands out from the bottom of Wooyoung’s ass and notched them in his side, tossing him on the bed roughly. Wooyoung looked around. San’s bedroom had high ceilings, minimal decoration, with a bare canopy bed frame. Most of his apartment was white with warm toned wood here and there; the aesthetic of new money. Nothing Wooyoung was used to. He looked back up at the bed and thought, why would someone have a canopy bed frame and nothing hanging from it? His wandering mind was abruptly interrupted by San’s body settling on top of his own, palms on either side of his head. Maybe it’s his arousal, but San has never looked so fucking hot. 

“Promise me something,” San’s voice was brimming with sincerity.

“Hm?” Wooyoung hummed in curious approval.

“Tell me if…” San bashfully pulled his eyes away from Wooyoung’s. “Tell me if I’m too rough.”

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped open. Here is this man above him, who he can tell is at least slightly obsessed with him–at least enough to get himself banned from a strip club–exhibiting the softest, most tender behavior just after he had been asked to be ruined. San looked tough, cold, and calculating on the outside. Always overdressed, a stereotypical businessman whose charisma could be sickening. Yet under all that, San’s genuine softness inevitably overflowed at the edges. It gave him whiplash. What Wooyoung doesn’t know is that it is for him . 

“San.” Wooyoung tilted his head down and rested his palms on San’s chest. “Do you remember what I asked you?”

“To…” San stared at Wooyoung’s mouth. “Ruin you?”

“I meant it.” Wooyoung’s hands slithered to the back of San’s neck, pulling him in for a long, hard kiss. “I'll let you know–but don’t hold back.”

San nodded, and his concerned demeanor melted away and returned to the hungry intensity Wooyoung was first met with. San balanced upright on his knees and tore away his shirt, tossing it on to the ground. Wooyoung  licked into San’s mouth once he was settled over him again, coaxing him to move closer towards him. His hands inched down to San’s waist, slipping his fingers under the fabric, grazing closer and closer to the bulge growing in San’s underwear. A single, light stroke with two fingers over San’s cock triggered sudden gasp that Wooyoung relished. The touch also made him realize that San was not getting hard. He was hard. 

Wooyoung wanted to see how far he could tease San until he snapped. It was clear, though, that it wouldn't be much further. San kicked off his pants, granting Wooyoung more access. Wooyoung dragged his fingers slowly along the elastic lining of San’s boxers, pulling away strategically each time San grinded his hips forward in hopes of meeting his touch. Entranced, San’s kissing slowed. He became hyper focused on Wooyoung’s fingers teasing the area around his cock. Wooyoung smiled against San’s open mouth, and pulled back on the elastic band snapping it against San’s skin. San inhaled sharply through his teeth at the sting. The smile on Wooyoung’s lips told San everything he needed to know. Wooyoung enjoyed teasing San a little too much, and he was going to have to pay for it. Wooyoung palmed San’s erection over his underwear, but San pulled back fast and flipped Wooyoung on his stomach taking back his lead.

San didn’t have to say a single word before Wooyoung was already arching his back up, presenting himself to San.

“Did you want something?” San draped his body over Wooyoung, pushing his lower body into him so he could feel his arousal, mouth at his ear. His shoulders almost completely engulfed Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung knew he was built–San was the only person he knew whose shoulders seemed even broader when he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket.

Wooyoung pressed back further into San, only whining in response. 

“Mhm,” Was all Wooyoung could manage.

San planted kisses down Wooyoung's spine, massaging his thumbs into the small of Wooyoung’s back. He took his time peeling back Wooyoung’s underwear, exposing his plush ass and needy hole. 

San moved, practiced, swirling his tongue over and around Wooyoung’s rim. Each muffled breath and moan encouraged San further. He pulled back, letting his spit cool the area before flicking his tongue against Wooyoung’s hole. A shiver ran through Wooyoung’s body, shocked at the sudden movement. San took his time eating Wooyoung out, changing his pace every once in a while and squeezing fistfulls of Wooyoung’s ass to elicit more whimpers. He plunged his tongue deeper, just enough for Wooyoung to feel the slight resistance of his opening push back against it. 

Just as Wooyoung was settling into the feeling, ready to be teased open, he was suddenly on his back again. He blinked and found San above him once more. Their mouths reconnected, and Wooyoung greedily wrapped his legs around San’s waist. Their cocks rubbed against each other messily, Wooyoung impatiently chasing his high. Their movements quickened, and San was quick to match Wooyoung’s rhythm; adding pressure at the same time until his hips began to stutter. He had been aroused for much longer than he was used to, making his cock throb with an irrepressible sensitivity.

“Shit,” San exhaled as he bucked his hips into Wooyoung harder. If he didn’t pull it together and slow himself down right now, he was going to cum without ever having been inside Wooyoung–and that was not going to happen. 

Wooyoung felt San’s body shift away slightly, followed by rummaging noises. San pulled out a bottle of lube and painfully ripped himself away from Wooyoung’s lips. He stood up on his knees and pushed the cap open on the bottle, squirting two beads of lube onto his fingers. With a brief moment of respite, Wooyoung finally got to take San in full. His body was immaculately sculpted, with broad shoulders that tapered into an incredulously small waist. His chest, sheen with a thin layer of sweat, reflected the dim light surrounding them. If San ever lost his job as a CEO, Wooyoung thought, maybe he should get into stripping too. Interrupting his thoughts, San leaned back down to hover over Wooyoung. 

“Talk to me, okay baby?” San rubbed the tips of his fingers together, warming the lube. He pressed his hand into Wooyoung, gently circling his entrance, kissing his cheeks softly as he awaited a response. Wooyoung was already too lost in his touch to think. 

“Please–” Wooyoung implored, pulling downwards to meet San’s touch. “Fucking–”

San pushed one finger past the tight muscle, watching as Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back at the sensation. Slowly, he pushed in further, feeling Wooyoung’s toes curl against his leg. He carefully watched Wooyoung’s reactions, making sure he was well adjusted before attempting to add another. His fingers explored inside Wooyoung, trying to find a sweet spot as he worked him open. Wooyoung’s intoxicating moans went straight to his cock. San wondered if he would sound the same riding him, or if he’d be too breathless to make any noise at all. 

“More.” Wooyoung whined. “More.”

San obliged, finally adding a third. He pushed his fingers deep inside Wooyoung, until the heel of his palm was flush against his taint. 

“Fuck,” Wooyoung breathed out. The tips of his fingers dug into San’s back, desperate for him to go deeper. The thickness of San’s fingers stretched him further than he anticipated, but the sting still didn’t feel like enough. He was filled, but not fully. San crooked his fingers in a couple different directions until–

“San– I’m– I–” Wooyoung choked up.

There it was. 

He released the pressure off the spot and watched Wooyoung catch his breath. Wooyoung’s cock twitched, tip leaking onto his stomach.

“Wet already?” San leaned down to bite Wooyoung’s neck.

“S–says you.” Wooyoung reached between them and ran his thumb over the wet spot that had formed in San’s boxers. Electricity rippled immediately up his body and he gasped, his body involuntarily pulling away from Wooyoung. After everything, he was way too sensitive. San curled his fingers in revenge one more time, brushing over the newfound sweet spot. 

“San.” Wooyoung grabbed San’s face hastily. “I need you to fuck me, now .”

San smiled. He obliged, dragging his fingers out slow enough for Wooyoung to feel the distance between every knuckle. The sight of Wooyoung’s gaping hole, empty, made San’s cock throb. He placed his hands on either side of Wooyoung and kicked his last article of clothing off. As he struggled, Wooyoung looked into San’s eyes and brought the thumb he ghosted over San’s tip up to his mouth, sucking off the small amount of precum that had transferred through to his skin. San froze. 

“You’re so bad…” San’s eyes were stuck on the way Wooyoung’s lips wrapped around his finger. Wooyoung smiled mischievously. 

His smile faded as he looked down to see San’s cock erect and red, tip glistening. San was a more than reasonable size, but shit, San was thick . 

“Are you–” San snapped out of his lust for a second. 

“Yes, yes I’m clean.” Wooyoung already anticipated his question. He grabbed San’s head and brought their foreheads together. “I’m sure. Please. Please.”

“I need you.” Wooyoung hissed as he brought his knees higher up to his chest, inviting San in. It was a bit humiliating, how ready he was to be split open.

If San was already in a frenzy, Wooyoung’s words sent him past the point of no return. San grabbed the back of one of Wooyoung’s knees and hooked it over his shoulder. Folded impossibly under him, Wooyoung was at his mercy. San gripped the base of his cock, lining it up with Wooyoung’s now gaping hole. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched himself sink completely into Wooyoung, all the way until there was no space left between their hips. Bottomed out, San hissed. The full feeling was overwhelming and addicting all at the same time. The final stretch burned, but not more than the satisfaction of San’s cock buried deep inside him. San began to move his hips back and forth languidly, giving Wooyoung time to adjust to his size. The thickness of San’s fingers had done most of the heavy work, but Wooyoung was still unprepared for his length . The pace with each thrust increased, soon settling into a rhythmic pump. The tail end of San’s thrusts became harsher. He snapped his hips with fervor. With Wooyoung’s leg thrown over his shoulder, San had easy access to pounding into that sweet spot he found earlier. Wooyoung cried out in choked moans, gripping at the sheets around him.

“S-San–” Wooyoung planted both hands on San’s chest, signaling him to stop. San returned a concerned look. Was he too harsh? Had he been going too fast?

Wooyoung pulled San into a kiss again and slid his knee off his shoulder. Once in a familiar caress again, Wooyoung pushed San onto his back. 

Oh god , San thought. He was going to ride him. 

Wooyoung pulled off San, reaching for the bottle lube. He doused San’s cock, taking it in his hand and spreading it slowly. San reached out and stopped Wooyoung’s hand. He was way too close. 

Wooyoung straddled San’s waist, grinding his ass back and forth along the length of San’s cock. With one swift motion, he positions San’s cock and sinks down, throwing his head back. San’s mouth watered. Everything about the way Wooyoung moved, the way he sounded, was all so much more than San could have ever imagined. Wooyoung rolled his body in sinful waves, reveling at the sight of San coming undone beneath him. San reached up, hands gliding over every part of Wooyoung he could touch. Their hands met, Wooyoung exploring his own body in tandem with San. His cock leaked as he continued to ride. Panting, Wooyoung chased the pressure that began to build in his abdomen. Soon he was shaking, unable to keep his pace. 

“San…” He let out a small cry. San’s name sounded so good on Wooyoung’s lips. It made him crazy . Wanting to push him over the edge, San gripped Wooyoung’s waist planted the bottoms of his feet on the bed and began to mercilessly fuck up into Wooyoung. 

“Fuck–” They both let out a slurry of curses as San fucked at an unrelenting pace. 

“San,” Tears formed in Wooyoung’s eyes as he whined. “I’m so– close–”

“Come on baby,” San was approaching his climax too. “Just a little more.”

San lost himself, bending forward to roughly embrace Wooyoung to kiss him sloppily, still thrusting into him. Wooyoung moaned into his mouth, going more and more limp by the second. The friction between San’s cock and Wooyoung’s walls began to tighten. Wooyoung writhed, overstimulated by the recklessness of San’s motions but yet still unsatisfied. But not for long. 

Wooyoung’s breath hitched, and a shattered moan filled the room. He arched his back as white ropes painted the space between them. San let out a choked, shaky moan as he came inside Wooyoung seconds after,  holding him down on his cock to bury himself impossibly deeper inside him. He shuddered, his walls spasming, before totally collapsing onto San. San continued to rut slow and hard, milking every last sensation out of Wooyoung and fucking him tenderly through his orgasm. Wooyoung’s muscles felt like taut ribbons slowly unraveling, melting into San’s body beneath him. Rough hands cupped his face, lifting him in for more slow, sweet kisses.

***

“Wait–” San grabbed Wooyoung’s arm with a gentle urgency. “Stay. Stay the night.”

“Don’t worry,” Wooyoung turned back around from the bed’s edge and softly kissed San. “I was planning on it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I would never want to.” San exhaled and sunk back into his sheets in relief. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“You are welcome to shower if you want,” San said. “There are fresh towels folded in the cabinet under the sink.” 

“Hm,” Wooyoung considered the offer. “I’ll make it quick.”

San watched Wooyoung disappear into the bathroom. He sighed, looking up at his bedroom ceiling. He must be dreaming. He thought he would be too nervous to kiss Wooyoung on their first date, let alone fuck him. 

After what felt like forever, Wooyoung creeped back out of the bathroom and slipped under the duvet next to San. 

“Do you have to be up early tomorrow?” Wooyoung squirmed his way into San’s arms, notching his head in the crook of his neck. 

“No,” San replied, squeezing Wooyoung in closer. “And you can stay as long as you want.”

Wooyoung giggled. San wondered if he would ever get used to this. They laid together in a comfortable silence, both of them still too stimulated to rest.

“Cumming at the same time on our first try,” Wooyoung commented with a chuckle, tracing lines across San’s chest. “Pretty unlikely, huh?”

“I guess we’re just meant to be,” San half-joked. If it were up to him, he would take it as a sign. Wooyoung laughed. 

“Tell me,” Wooyoung lifted his head up to look at San. “Did you know I worked at that cafe? Be honest.”

San laughed, his dimples visible even with no light. 

“No,” San suddenly felt shy again, and couldn’t bring himself to look at Wooyoung. “I swear I had no idea.”

“So it was just a coincidence?” 

San nodded and shrugged. 

“Hm,” Wooyoung readjusted back into San’s neck. “This whole time I thought you sought me out and found me. That’s why I had the balls to sit at your table, because I thought you showing up was you shooting your shot.”

“I’m really glad you did,” San lifted his hand to twirl Wooyoung’s hair between his fingers. Cuddling together felt so natural. “I was so worried you’d think I was some creep. I didn’t know I would’ve approached you after that first night.”

“My dancing really did it for you, huh?”

“It was all I thought about. I mean, I still think about it.”

“Really?”

“Really. And after we actually had a conversation, I was hooked.”

“You’re too nice,” Wooyoung laughed softly and nuzzled deeper into San’s chest. 

San turned his head and lifted Wooyoung’s chin with his fingers to meet his eyes. 

“I mean it.” San leaned in, kissing Wooyoung with every ounce of affection he could muster. He pulled away but stayed close, gazing into Wooyoung’s eyes. 

“Thanks for listening to me earlier, too. About why I sort of freaked out.” Wooyoung said. “I didn’t know if it’d be too much too soon but… I appreciate it.”

“I don’t think you could be too much,” San thought out loud. “Were we both just… worrying this whole time?”

“Isn’t that how it goes?” Wooyoung reached up to run his hands through San’s hair lovingly. 

***

The next morning was the quietest San’s mind had been in almost two weeks. He laid completely still, watching the sun filter through the windows and kiss the edges of Wooyoung’s body with light. He would never get used to this.