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After hours of gruelling choreography, practice was finally over. Everyone was exhausted, ready to crash the moment they got home. It was nearly 3 a.m.
Wooyoung glanced briefly at San—only to find him already watching.
“I’m going to stay a bit longer. Work on my choreo for the jazz festival,” Wooyoung said, settling on the floor and scrolling through his phone to find the music.
The rest of the members began packing up, but San sat down beside him. Wooyoung couldn’t help himself. He snapped a photo of them in the mirror. Then another. And another—of the two of them, side by side.
Yeosang offered to stay, but San had other plans.
“You go home and sleep. I’ll stay with Wooyoungie.”
“And I’ll get even more self-conscious with two of you watching me,” Wooyoung added with a small grin.
So Yeosang followed the others out. As the door shut, San and Wooyoung locked eyes. The heat in San’s gaze was impossible to ignore.
Wooyoung walked to the door, pulled the blind down, and turned the lock with a click.
“Wouldn’t want any spoilers leaked,” he smirked.
He moved to the desk, propped his phone up, and queued up the music. Truth be told, he was nervous. This would be his first solo stage—live, and entirely his.
He returned to the middle of the room, San’s eyes never leaving him. Turning his focus to the mirror, Wooyoung let himself move—fluid, sensual, lost in the rhythm. He danced like no one was watching… except San was.
As the song ended, his arm raised above his head, San moved in behind him like a shadow—quiet, sleek, feline.
Wooyoung’s back met San’s chest, and warm hands slid beneath the hem of his tank top, gliding over his sweat-slicked skin.
“You did that last part on purpose,” San whispered into his ear.
“Maybe,” Wooyoung replied, breathless.
San smiled against his ear. “Why do you think?”
“Tell me,” Wooyoung murmured.
San gave him a few quick pointers on the choreography, and Wooyoung leaned in, planting a slow, deliberate kiss on his cheek.
“So… I looked good?”
San’s eyes darkened. “You look too good not to touch.”
His fingers dipped lower, slipping just under the waistband of Wooyoung’s jeans—an innocent touch laced with filthy intentions.
Their eyes met in the mirror, watching San’s hand disappear further. Wooyoung gasped as San took a firm hold of him, stroking slowly, deliberately.
“Sometimes I think about you grabbing me like this… on stage,” Wooyoung rasped.
“I do too. Just so I can claim what’s mine, in front of everyone,” San growled before sinking his teeth into Wooyoung’s neck—just hard enough to leave a mark.
Wooyoung moaned, breath fogging the mirror. “You sound so pretty,” San said, capturing his mouth in a filthy, frantic kiss. They devoured each other, hands roaming, bodies pressed tight.
When they broke apart, eyes still locked in the mirror, San released him only to unbutton his jeans and push them down slowly.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
San pressed Wooyoung against the mirror, face flush to the glass. He freed himself, rubbing the head of his cock along Wooyoung’s entrance—pre-cum slicking the way. He used it to prep him, the teasing barely enough, he couldn’t wait any longer. With one deep thrust, he filled him completely.
Wooyoung cried out, the mirror fogging under his breath. Their bodies moved in sync, San’s chest flush against his back, every thrust punctuated with low groans and whispered filth.
“You look so good like this,” San moaned. “So fucking perfect with my cock inside you.”
The glass shook under Wooyoung’s grip as San’s pace quickened. His orgasm hit hard, hips stuttering, forehead resting against Wooyoung’s shoulder as he spilled inside.
But he didn’t pull away. He kept them joined a littler longer.
— “Mirror, Mirror… Again” —
San eyes were still dark with hunger as he dropped to his knees behind Wooyoung, licking his lips like he hadn’t had nearly enough.
“You know I’m not done with you yet, right?” he said, voice hoarse, cock still twitching with overstimulation.
Wooyoung smirked, as he turned around, breath still coming fast. “I’m counting on it.”
He slid a hand into San’s hair and tugged, guiding him. San kissed his amicas ad Aras tattoo and then along his thigh, teasing him again with the flat of his tongue before taking him into his mouth, slow and deliberate.
Wooyoung’s head fell back with a curse, one hand bracing against the mirror, the other gripping San’s hair. “ Fuck, Sannie… ”
“Watch us,” San murmured between licks. “Watch how pretty you look when I ruin you.”
And Wooyoung did—eyes locked on the reflection of San on his knees, mouth stretched around him, gaze possessive and feral. His own reflection was flushed, lips parted, hips trembling.
It didn’t take long.
He came with a shout, spilling into San’s mouth, knees nearly giving out as San swallowed around him.
San stood slowly, mouth shiny, lips curved into a smug smile.
“I love you, my Young-ah,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung’s temple.
Wooyoung laughed, grabbing San by the collar. “And I you. But show me how much— again. ”