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The door creaking open isn’t unexpected, but it still makes Wooyoung groan as he rolls over and lets the light shine into his bedroom.
San smiles at him softly and Wooyoung can’t stay miserable. Still, the light against his migraine isn’t enough to make him crack a smile.
He hasn’t responded to any texts that day, simply hearted San’s good morning text as a show that he’s alive. San sent him a few more things throughout the day, and Wooyoung glimpsed over the gist of them— a realization that the assignment he finished last night wasn’t due quite yet, a photo of a pastry he’d picked up from a local cafe, the subsequent live-time realizations that the barista was flirting with him the whole time. Wooyoung had caught the notifications on the corner of his screen as he was scrolling TikTok on the lowest possible brightness with a volume of 1. Even though he technicallysaw the messages earlier, he hadn’t had the energy to respond.
San isn’t one to harbor hard feelings over such a thing, and Wooyoung appreciates that.
Even now, he stands proudly in Wooyoung’s doorway holding up a plastic takeaway cup.
He doesn’t greet with a hello, just a whisper as he holds up the americano.
“Got you coffee.”
The consideration is enough to make the corner of Wooyoung’s lip quirk up, pushing himself out of bed for the first time that day, even as it elicits a pounding pain in his head and a twist in his stomach, to approach San and greet him with a hug.
Just as Wooyoung stands up on his toes to wrap one arm over his shoulder, the other still clutching his own abdomen to try to ease the cramps, San switches the hand he’s holding the coffee with, condensation from the cup leaving a few droplets on the front of Wooyoung’s t-shirt. In the smooth movement, he lets his tote bag fall off his shoulder and onto Wooyoung’s floor, shoes already off and left at the apartment entrance.
Wooyoung can’t hold the tippy-toed position for two long and slips back down easily, wordlessly reaching for the takeout coffee cup and grabbing it two-handed, slouched over like a raccoon.
He looks slowly up from the cup to San’s eyes, wordlessly asking even if he knows the answer— for me?
San just nods and it forces Wooyoung into a true smile— flustered and tight-lipped, as he’s quick to hide it behind pushing the straw to his lips.
Wooyoung steps back to sit on the edge of the bed like this, still hunched over and gripping his coffee like it’s his vice right now. It is.
He knows he’s a little too dependent on caffeine to have gone the whole day without it, knows it’s certainly making his migraine worse, but it was a big ask for him to even limp to the bathroom to down some tylenol with tap water earlier, and the taste of that alone made him gag. But it seems the medicine has finally set in, if just a small amount, and he’d taken another nap since that seemed to ease his stomach just enough for an extra-watered-down americano.
“Have you eaten today, baby?”
San sits down next to him on the bed, having slipped his jacket off sometime while Wooyoung was mindlessly chugging, and he rests his hand in the small of Wooyoung’s back in a comforting motion. The coolness of his fingers from a mix of the drink in his hand in the January weather outside is a little bit of comfort on Wooyoung’s achey spine, even if it causes a few goosebumps in it’s wake, and the touch is grounding enough to pull Wooyoung back, just enough to shake his head ‘no’.
San is fully focused on Wooyoung’s reaction but withdrawals as soon as he gets the information he needs, looking away with a tight-lipped look of concern that, at a time, Wooyoung would’ve read as disappointment. But that was a while ago. Now, Wooyoung knows San well enough to know that it is his truest and only intention above all else to care for Wooyoung, and he’s willing to fill in any gaps in Wooyoung’s bad habits himself.
“Alright,” San says softly, standing up again. He presses a soft kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. He doesn’t elaborate but wordlessly, he’s grabbing some of his own comfy clothes from the far right side of Wooyoung’s drawer and heading back towards the hallway comfortably.
In his long day of painfully rolling around his lonely bed, Wooyoung had forgotten what it was like to exist in the comfort of another person, and the intimacy of San just being here was enough to heal his heavy heart.
Bad periods aren’t unfamiliar to him, though they mellowed out with age, along with the migraines that accompanied them. He knew they should eventually stop after he started T, but he wasn’t expecting them to get worse before it got better.
But nothing is truly worse, because San is here to take care of it.
The coffee had rejuvenated Wooyoung enough to sit himself up while he waits for San to come back, finally responding to a few of his other texts from the day and scrolling a little more painlessly. He doesn’t pay attention to the time as he gets sucked back into it, into an iMessage game of Battleship with Yunho, along the way, but he doesn’t mind the white noise of the shower in the adjacent room turning on and then off, nor the sound of the front door clicking open and shut in his wake. There’s a muffled conversation between San and Yeosang in the living room, but Wooyoung doesn’t focus too hard on the noise.
When San returns, the room is still dark, but Wooyoung turned on his dim bedside lamp and sat himself up against the headboard. It’s a little less pitiful of a sight than the first time he’d entered the room that day and San smiles at it, softly as he sits down at the foot of the bed in his sweatpants.
“Hi,” Wooyoung says, smiling up at him when he feels the weight shift.
“Ah, he can speak,” San tries to tease, but his wide smile gives him away in a way that makes Wooyoung giggle.
Suddenly able to repress the cramping in his stomach, Wooyoung pushes himself up on his knees to climb closer, and suddenly he sees in the hand behind San’s back, a takeout bag.
He gasps, wordlessly looking up at San again, who’s flustered as he brings it back forward.
Unwittingly, his eyes fill with tears even as he tries to curse it but he’s pulled towards San magnetically, trying to wrap his arms around San’s wide chest.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung starts, in a tone that tries to be scolding but he can’t hide his emotions. A little embarassingly, he faces himself forward in San’s chest, pressing nose in the defined gap between his pecs. He successfully manages to not spill any real tears and pulls back only when he’s sure of it to look San in the eyes and say, “You do too much.”
“Oh, so you don’t want this chicken then?” San asks with a raised eyebrow. “Yeosang was trying to heckle me for it, y’know.”
“No!” Wooyoung giggles, lightly punching San in the chest for the joke. “I never said that!”
San just laughs.
“I told him he can have leftovers, but I ordered extra. Eat what you want, baby.”
Wooyoung doesn’t need to be told twice, already taking the bag and setting it on the nightstand as he grabs the box on top to set in his own lap, warmth of the food soaking onto his thighs through his basketball shorts. He doesn't usually like to eat in bed, but it’s a special circumstance, which San seems to know from the fact he brought it here in the first place.
“Aren’t you having any?” Wooyoung asks, with his own mouth full.
San shakes his head lightly, damp hair flicking to the sides. “I already ate, this is for you.”
Wooyoung pouts, not missing San’s own pout as reaction to it, and shakes his own head. That won’t do.
He does manage to hand-feed San a few pieces, just for the premise, for his own comfort. San spends a few minutes checking his own phone, but for the most part, he just watches Wooyoung eat with a focused look and an easy smile.
It’d be weird if it were anyone else.
San was right when he’d said he’d over-ordered, and by the time Wooyoung’s stomach is full, he can hear Yeosang giddy in the next room as he jumps up and down being handed a box-and-a-half of fried chicken.
Wooyoung falls back into bed onto his side and San re-enters the room, wordlessly setting a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the side table before sitting back down where he was before, rubbing a hand over the calf of Wooyoung’s bent leg.
When Wooyoung moves, he just delicately drags his hand out of the way, not commenting any further as Wooyoung takes another pain pill and downs most of the water, he just watches, waiting for his cue.
It comes a moment later, when Wooyoung’s cramps aren't quite subdued enough to lay any other way than a fetal position, but it feels a little dull compared to the sudden sharp pain in his back. In pursuit of a middle ground, he wiggles around uncomfortably on his side for a few moments before San takes place behind him, suddenly becoming the big spoon against Wooyoung’s curled up spine.
The effect from his body heat immediately eases Wooyoung and even as San’s small but warm hand comes to rest on Wooyoung’s stomach. The touch is comforting but the tickle of it even through the thin t-shirt Wooyoung has on is startling enough for Wooyoung to place his own hand over San’s, covering it completely, before turning his head to attempt to face him where they both lay on their sides.
San has a soft and cozy pout and doesn’t respond to Wooyoung’s movement, even as Wooyoung clutches over his knuckles, hyper-aware of the touch.
“What is this,” Wooyoung says flatly, and that ellicits a smile from San, of all things.
“Hm?” San hums, shifting a little upward to get a better look at his boyfriend. Wooyoung just clutches his hand for more emphasis and it makes San smile again, shyly. Comfortingly, he spreads his fingers to soothingly rub his pinky until it reaches Wooyoung’s bellybutton. “What, like you don’t like my tummy?”
Wooyoung scoffs at the teasing tone, even as San presses a small kiss to his jaw to soothe the joke.
“Not when I’m trying to comfort you,” Wooyoung says back. “Ugh, and don’t call it that!”
Wooyoung starts to wiggle under his touch and San breaks out into giggles. It’s a little infectious and by the time Wooyoung manages to turn around fully, to face San lying down, they’re both reduced to laughter. Wooyoung lets his face fall into San’s neck and similarly, San leans into his hair, wrapping one arm over his waist and the other falling back towards his tummy, but landing closer to his hip.
Despite the teasing, Wooyoung doesn’t mind the touch. Even if he’s hyper-aware he’s bloated, just eaten, and he knows this isn’t his best look. He’d hate for anyone else to see him like this. But as with everything else, San is different.
“Thank you,” Wooyoung confesses, a few silently comfortable moments later, muffled into San’s neck where he now has one arm wrapped around it to pull in closer to the smell of his freshly-washed hair.
“Hm?”
San hums and softly pulls back, curious and listening, but Wooyoung doesn’t miss the way San’s gaze flickers to his lips for a long moment before focusing on San’s eyes. It’s sweetly subtle enough to fluster Wooyoung and he giggles giddily before responding.
“Thank you,” Wooyoung says, punctuating it with a kiss to San’s nose that catches him off guard. “For taking care of me.” Another kiss. “And for keeping me sane.” He presses a kiss to his forehead this time.
San doesn’t shy away from the affection per se, but he’s blushing like crazy and squinting his eyes tight like he’s trying to cope with it. He keeps them open just enough to look at Wooyoung through a sliver. Wooyoung watches closely as the shock slowly melts from his face and he blinks himself back to reality, back to fully facing Wooyoung, with a shy smile that doesn’t leave.
He doesn’t respond, just cuddles closer and finally brings a kiss to Wooyoung’s lips.
It’s a slow-moving natural progression, but it still catches Wooyoung off-guard with a surprised gasp right into San’s mouth, making him jump a little before his hand falls onto San’s cheek.
In a characteristically chivalrous move, San does not take the opportunity to deepen the kiss even while Wooyoung’s mouth stays parted.
The restraint is unreasonably sexy. It’s a hesitance not born of unease but of consideration; it’s shown in the confident hold he keeps on Wooyoung’s waist, on the way he lead into the kiss in the first place. It’s enough to make Wooyoung, even in his achey, unsexy state, whimper into San’s mouth.
It comes out a little pitiful— especially in context. It’s enough to make San hesitate, pull back with a frown, which only makes Wooyoung whine a little bit more, open mouth finally shifting into a pout to meet San’s raised eyebrow.
In lieu of words, Wooyoung tightens his hand on San’s face, pinching his cheek to try to drag him forward by the little bit of baby fat. It doesn’t work and he maintains his poker face even if Wooyoung sees right through it, in the subtle way his lip twitches towards a smile before he forces it flat again.
Despite himself, Wooyoung lets out a laugh, and only then does San kiss him again.
It’s slow and languid and comfortable in a way that softly shakes Wooyoung’s head free of thoughts like an etch-a-sketch. At the worst of times, San is his off button and they rest like that as Wooyoung slowly moves towards him, twirling fingers in San’s hair. San stays still, grounding.
Wooyoung’s a noisy kisser. He’s expressive, he likes to say, and San doesn’t tease him— not outright, even when he gets the little smirk on his lips and evasive squinty eyes that tell Wooyoung he’s thinking something— because he likes it too much. He’s whiney and gaspy even in languid moments like this, and San just matches the moves of his open mouth.
They turn and it’s too much.
Wooyoung whimpers as he shifts from his side to his back, this time a little more pained, higher-pitched and broken from the sound alone, not just the disuse of his voice. The muscles in his lower back feel hot and achey suddenly and he flinches, trying to arch his back in a curve that certainly doesn’t help. His eyes press together in a way that spreads tears through his lashes, they were maybe formed before, he isn’t sure. All he does know is that the movement stops him, gripping San’s arm as the poor boy freezes.
“Sorry,” Wooyoung spits out painfully; he doesn’t mean to apologize, he knows he doesn’t need to, but it’s gasped naturally to fill the pause. San just hums and rubs his thumb over Wooyoung’s abdomen, recentering his hands to hold Wooyoung’s hips. “Back hurts.”
He takes in a breath and blinks his eyes clear before giving a forced smile up at San as a way of saying I’m okay. San keeps an eyebrow furrowed for a moment before accepting it, helping him lay down fully.
When he does, though, San doesn’t come back over him. It makes Wooyoung frown as San lays on his side, keeping his distance, and petting Wooyoung’s stomach like he’s a cat; he can’t deny that it’s soothing, the warm hand right above where he’s cramping, a feeling that becomes ever-more present as the back pain wears off giving him another unpleasant situation to focus on, but it’s not what he wants and he mewls to express as much.
San is too sweet, though, and just meets it with more words and softness.
“Is it too much, sweetheart?”
The pet name has Wooyoung whining again, now for seperate reasons, but he shakes his head in small movements of protest as he replies quietly, whinier than he’d intended to be though he knows it’ll get it’s intended effect.
“Want more,” Wooyoung says. “You make it better. Distract me.”
San seems to think on this for a second with his fingers lightly drumming Wooyoung’s abdomen before meeting Wooyoung with a gentle kiss, at the corner of his mouth, that trails over his cheeks and jaw as he keeps rubbing small, reassuring circles on Wooyoung’s tummy. It has Wooyoung gasping and sated, rubbing San’s bicep in a small return of affection and aiding in his craving for as much of San’s skin on his own as he can get.
He doesn’t miss San leaning overtop of him to reach for the bedside drawer, which he navigates without looking before quietly shutting it.
Wooyoung will question it eventually maybe, but San’s lips are back on his and he just leans into the sensation, knowing that whatever his boyfriend is plotting, it will all make sense.
It feels so good to lay back and trust.
They kiss softly for some long moments before San pulls back, not moving more than a few inches back from Wooyoung’s face, and Wooyoung braces himself with delicately half-closed eyes and an uncontrollable close-mouthed smile as he waits for San to return his attention to his face maybe, or to sit back and be admired.
He takes then moment to do the same to San, mapping out some of the freckles on his face and the way his cheeks are pink from a little kissing the same way they get from just a couple sips of soju. This is something he loves about San— how easy he is to read, and how much that lends to his sincerity. He wears his sensitivity in every aspect of himself and Wooyoung finds it so easy to meet his open heart with his own.
San flusters before he speaks, in the form of a quick glance away and a lip bite.
“Can I try something, baby?”
With his one-handed hold on Wooyoung’s waist, fiddles his thumb at the waistband of the sweatpants Wooyoung is wearing, looking between the area and up at Wooyoung’s face as he does.
In his other hand, a bullet vibrator from the bedside drawer.
San’s cheeks are pink with a sweet smile as Wooyoung catches the item in his line of sight and San explains, “To help with cramps.”
It’s the kind of incredulous proposal only San would be able to pull from thin air and as soon as Wooyoung’s processing it, he’s giggling, wrapping his arms behind San’s neck just to give him a kiss to his cheek, wet and noisy. It’s a thank you for thinking of these things; thank you for not holding back.
Wooyoung’s felt a little gross all day, and even well-kissed and doted on, the feeling isn’t quite gone, but San is unconcerned with anything but Wooyoung’s comfort, and will give him anything for the cause. It’s not a feeling that bodes to Wooyoung being horny but San’s kindness is always a turn on.
“Yeah,” is Wooyoung’s quiet reply, with a shy smile.
San just meets the smile back, pink-cheeked looking soft but pleased, before leaning into kiss Wooyoung again.
San drops the vibrator to the side on the bed so he can grab Wooyoung’s waist with both of his hands, light but steady as he trails them between the hold, lightly grazing his tummy, and dipping below his waistband until he’s able to slowly shimmy down Wooyoung’s sweatpants until they sit low on his hipbones.
He ducks down to give a kiss to Wooyoung’s stomach, just above his belly button, and Wooyoung meets the movement with a loose grip into San’s hair instinctively, but it’s immediately too sensitive, too much.
Wooyoung whines as he pulls San back by his hair, who meets him with a concerned look up at his face.
“Much,” he explains with a wrinkled nose.
San understands it immediately, coming back up and gently kissing Wooyoung’s nose.
His hands stay on Wooyoung’s hips reassuringly, though stroking his thumb over the airy fabric of his boxer briefs.
“Do you want me to get you off, honey?” San asks gently.
It’s an offer, not a push, and Wooyoung nods ever so slightly at the proposal.
“Just… easy.”
San expresses his understanding with a smile and a peck to Wooyoung’s cheek, and it makes Wooyoung smile. He uses his levarage with his arm around San’s neck to tuck himself into his shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing him in while San continues to feel over his hips.
He’s making little hums to the tune of the feeling as San massages between his boney hips and inner thighs, sweatpants shuffled to just below there to give San access. His fingers find everywhere around the perimeter of the pad that sits uncomfortably in Wooyoung’s underwear but when he brushes the padding, he doesn't jolt away, just redirects to somewhere more comfortable.
It makes Wooyoung moan— not just at the fingers brushing through a thin layer onto his sensitive inner thighs, but the consideration. There’s a sprinkle of instinctive insecurity when he feels the padding crinkle under touches, a reminder of his bloody, unsexy state, but it has San unphased.
Tears prickle at the corner of Wooyoung’s eyes as he presses his forehead down to San’s collarbone, clutching his shirt. He squints his closed eyes open, and he can see San’s hands, where he’s touching.
He takes a short peek as he hears the vibrator click on, staying on the lowest setting.
San trails it a little below the waistline of Wooyoung’s boxers, just above his pubic area. It’s just enough of a tease to have Wooyoung’s breath shuddering, and San pulls back a little, just enough to get a glance at Wooyoung’s face, to read his expression.
“Good?” San asks quietly.
Wooyoung nods, biting his lip with a small whine when San trails it in the same pattern his fingers were tracing, down to his inner thigh, sensitive.
“Like that,” Wooyoung whispers.
San replies with a kiss to his cheek and, “Mhm.”
He circles between the places in languid movements, just enough to keep Wooyoung gasping. Wooyoung isn’t normally so patient, and he doesn’t take well to teasing, but it doesn’t feel like a tease right now. It feels like something slow, digestible, portioned expertly to allow him to feel just a dully pleasant buzz to barely counteract his achey spine and sore muscles.
It lasts for a few minutes and then San breaks pattern, turning the vibrator up a setting before moving it more towards the center of the circle, right above where Wooyoung’s cock sits under a thick layer of padding.
“Oh, ye-aah,” Wooyoung reacts to the sudden touch.
It isn’t much. He usually starts it a setting higher and the pad offsets it even more, but the slow pace makes everything feel like more in comparison and he’s sensitive from both his period and the teasing.
“There, yeah,” Wooyoung moans through a satisfied sigh. “Just over— like that.”
Wooyoung lifts his head like he’s reaching for air, mouth agape as it tries to form around the feelings, the lump in his throat. His eyes close tightly as he tries to take it in, hands pulling at San’s shirt until it stretches the fabric of the collar.
And then he opens his eyes and sees San, who, despite his work in between Wooyoung’s legs, is only looking at Wooyoung’s face.
His eyes are narrow and focused, lips downturned in a way that shows not dissatisfaction but focus. It’s the look of love.
It’s more intense than the physical sensations and it has Wooyoung whining, arching his back, pain effectively melted away because all of his thoughts are overtaken by San.
It’s too much and he’s closing his eyes again, but San is quick to his ear for another kiss and a whisper, “So sweet, honey.”
He wants to hide in San’s shoulders again, to muffle his whines there, but San redirects him with a gentle grab of his chin.
“Wooyoungie-ya, look at me,” San says, and Wooyoung is helpless but to listen. “Good, honey. You’re so beautiful. Does it feel nice?”
“Mhm,” Wooyoung barely gets out.
It feels cruel, almost, for San to be asking the question, making Wooyoung use his words when the answer is so obvious, but it can’t possibly be described that way when San is doing it so lovingly, so gentle.
His thumb and forefinger stay wrapped around Wooyoung’s chin, stroking softly like he’s a timid cat. It’s so sweet and so complimentary to little circles he draws with a toy over Wooyoung’s clit.
With a brief flash of a little smirk, San turns the setting up.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung gasps, eyes going wide at the influx.
San just leans down to kiss him again, keeping the pressure steady on him through the fabric.
Wooyoung gasps into his mouth on contact, and San keeps it steady for a few moments until Wooyoung whines into the kiss, then he’s pulling back.
“Is it enough, Young-ah?”
He presses the vibe down just a little bit harder for a second as Wooyoung nods eagerly.
“Like— yeah. ‘M close.”
He manages to unravel one of his hands from the cotton of San’s t-shirt to instead loosely wrap it over San’s wrist. It isn’t guiding, or gripping, even, it’s just a touch, reassuring, while his eyes shit tightly and he buries his forehead into San’s chest. It’s another form of contact and just the gentle brush of skin makes Wooyoung more comfortable, more willing to let go.
“Come on, honey,” San whispers. “So sweet.”
That’s all it takes for Wooyoung to gasp, arch his back up into just the tiniest curve as an orgasm rings through his lower body.
It isn’t earth-shattering, just a mildly satisfying release of tension, and the comedown is a quick but steady decline where San pulls the vibrator back and turns it off, settling on his side next to Wooyoung with a hand on his tummy as he pets him there softly, shimmying his sweatpants right back up as he does it.
It’s perfect.
Just enough, just the distraction Wooyoung needed, and he no longer remembers where he was hurting or how he got here.
The sweaty, lethargic feeling he’d spent the day in suddenly feels more earned and he’s immediately less self-conscious without the weight.
His legs feel like Jell-O but he’s able to turn his upper body to face San, with the intention of giving him kiss but pausing for a long moment just to brush the man’s cheekbone with his thumb, to ogle shamelessly. San’s cheeks are pink in a way they've ought to be and a quick glance down confirms he’s also half-hard in his own comfy pants, but as soon as Wooyoung’s gotten as far as looking at it, a forefinger to his chin redirects him back to San’s face where he’s instantly flustered further.
“Don’t—” San warns. It can almost be mistaken as something stern, but Wooyoung knows him better than that, which is confirmed when the rest of the sentence is continued cutely. “Don’t look at it.”
Wooyoung giggles and pushes himself up on stiff bones to give San a quick kiss to the nose—before the achey pain is winning and has him falling down again— but the appreciation for his cuteness doesn’t stop Wooyoung’s concern with San’s pout, which he traces his finger over as he matches it with his own.
“It’ll go down,” San adds, looking away— he can never meet Wooyoung’s eyes when he’s pouting which is terrible because San is always the one starting it.
“I can help.”
“No,” San says.
It’s sharp and final and he meets Wooyoung’s eyes as he says it, suddenly serious.
Where before he was adorably evasive, his held gaze shows he means this, and he doubles down on it, continuing as he holds Wooyoung’s jaw:
“I wanted to help you, honey. I don’t expect you to return it. I don’t want you to, this is about you.”
And Wooyoung could argue further.
It might be the polite thing to do, even, but it had taken months of their relationship for him to realize San doesn’t care for over-politeness and doesn’t insist on things he doesn’t mean.
So Wooyoung accepts it.
He lays back down with a satisfied hum, on his back where he lets San lay a head on his chest and wrap his leg overtop Wooyoung’s thigh; they’d normally assume a position chest-to-chest or spooning, something where San can hold Wooyoung and tuck him under his chin, but Wooyoung’s back isn’t boding well for lying on his side right now and San easily adjusts, they don’t need to speak of it.
Wooyoung has a burst of energy from the day spent in bed and has a lot to tell San, to catch him up on the twelve hours of not speaking he’d done that morning.
It’s quickly apparent San is sleepy, tired from a day of work and caretaking, made more obvious from the way he fights his eyes open, snaps into attention every time Wooyoung starts another meaningless sentence, no matter how long the gap is from the last. Wooyoung recognizes this and eventually trails off completely, instead filling his mind with thoughts of how peaceful San looks, how lucky he is to be here, and how to reach for his phone without disturbing the sleeping kitten on his chest.
Soon, the only pain Wooyoung feels is from San crushing his left arm under his entire weight. It’s hardly a negative, given the circumstances.