courtship for dummies

by rubesrunes

Summary:

After cat hybrids Wooyoung and San officially crossed the line (aka fucked), San starts acting different. The british shorthair brings “gifts” and leaves them where Woo will find them—his favorite snacks, shiny objects, random things he thinks the black cat will like—carefully placed, almost like offerings.

It’s not like Wooyoung is uncomfortable with it, but he is confused. San will go from fucking him into the couch like there’s no tomorrow, to grooming his ears and kissing him breathless.

Naturally, Wooyoung assumes his change of behaviour is because they're sleeping together now...
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but then he learns that British Shorthairs have very specific courting instincts.

Notes:

if you haven’t read the first part, i highly recommend doing so!!!

I had absolutely no idea how to continue this fic. I have 3 drafts, yes three, that I kept scrapping (one a prequel, one an angsty turn, and then this one, which I decided to stick with!) that being said, i am sorry for taking so long!

Fluff, smut and chaos ensues!!!

It started with the honey butter chips.

Wooyoung found them on his desk two days after they'd slept together. The bag sat propped against his laptop, the yellow packaging almost glowing under a sunbeam. Wooyoung almost teared up, the sight was so heavenly. He didn’t even question it at the time because his morning class had run long. So, he wasted no time and tore right into them, crunching happily while he bedrotted. 

Then came the milk tea. 

Now, Wooyoung was impressed. Obviously, it was Sannie’s doing. What broke college student, other than San, would go out of their way to spend precious money on Jung Wooyoung?  

Oddly enough, the milk tea sat in front of Wooyoung’s door this time, and there was even a packaged boba straw laid across on the sealing. Wooyoung smiled, bending down to pick up the beverage. He unlocked his door and slung his stuff onto the floor. 

He recognized the packaging from a local boba shop, and judging by the color, it was Wooyoung’s favorite: taro milk tea. It was still cold. 

Wooyoung brought it to his desk, ignoring his roommate’s intrigued stare. 

One night, Wooyoung brought up the food, and San had simply asked, “Did you like it?”   

And when Wooyoung nodded in response, San had eaten his pussy until his claws shredded the british shorthair’s pillow case. Then afterward, San licked Wooyoung’s ears clean with such intensity that the black kitty had fallen asleep mid-purr. With the same tongue that was drinking down his slick. 

The whiplash between fuck me harder and let me groom you until you melt was disorienting enough without adding gift-giving to the mix.

By Thursday, the gifts had escalated to a small pile of shiny objects arranged on his nightstand: a smooth stone, a chrome pen that wrote in glittery ink, and—weirdest of all—a single silver earring shaped like a crescent moon that Wooyoung was eighty percent sure had been San's at some point.

Not to mention the placement. It had started with things left in the open, but now they were in the dorm, hidden away like it was supposed to be a surprise. 

He didn't think he'd left his and Yeosang’s dorm unlocked, but the earring was definitely not there before he left for his afternoon lecture.

Wooyoung stood in the middle of his room now, the earring cradled in his hand, tail swishing slowly behind him. His ears swiveled, trying to calculate some reason as to why San is quite literally bringing him random objects. The food and drinks were nice, but how do you go from that, to a rock, then a pen, to a fucking earring? It’s not like he didn’t like the piece of jewlery, but what the fuck was he supposed to do with it?

"What the hell, Sannie," he murmured to himself, tempted to just snap a picture and send it to the kitty. Wooyoung set the earring down next to the river stone. "You're being weird," he said to the empty room, as if San could hear him. "I just don't know what kind of weird yet."

His phone buzzed. The kitty already knew who it was before he checked the screen. 

Sannie 🐱💕: coming over don't move 

Wooyoung's tail curled. His lips lifted into a smile before he could stop them.

Twenty minutes later, Wooyoung heard the familiar rhythm of San's knock. He got up to open the door.

San stood in the hallway, a paper bag clutched in one hand. His ears perked forward the second he saw Wooyoung, and his pupils dilated just slightly, the way they always did when he was happy. “Hi, Wooyoungie!” He smiled his dimpled smile, hair a little disheveled, tail swishing slowly. 

“Hi, Sannie.” Wooyoung stepped forward to embrace him, breathing in the familiar scent. San mrrped in response, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s hair. His one free arm came up to hold Wooyoung steady as the black kitty unwrapped his arms from around San’s neck. He took in the sight of San—his loose gym tee and some basketball shorts. Fuck, he looked divine. 

Wooyoung’s eye caught on the paper bag again. “You brought food?” He asked, stepping aside to let the blonde in. 

“Maybe,” San brushed past him, making himself at home. “Maybe I just wanted to see my favorite kitty.” 

"Liar." Wooyoung closed the door and turned around. San was already sitting at his desk pulling containers out of the bag like he owned the place. "You saw me yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before—"

"Not enough." San said it simply, without embarrassment, his attention on unpacking their dinner. "I got the one with the crispy pork." 

Wooyoung's stomach betrayed him with a growl. He had planned on just trekking to the cafeteria, but this was so, so, so much better. 

He padded over and stood behind San, letting his arms drape over his shoulders, purring. The black kitty rested his head between San’s two fluffy ears, watching him unpack the food. 

The reflection of the crescent earring caught Wooyoung’s eye, and he reached over to grab it. The shorthair paused when Wooyoung dangled it over his eyes. 

“You found it.” San’s hands paused on the container, then resumed like Wooyoung hadn’t just shown evidence of his weird behavior right in front of him. 

“Yeah, I found it,” Wooyoung said, matter-of-fact. He let the earring swing once, twice more. “Hard to miss when it’s sitting on my nightstand, inside my dorm, which I definitely locked this morning.”

San’s ears gave the tiniest flick. Guilty.

“Sannie…” Wooyoung let his chin rest heavier between those fluffy ears. “You broke into my room?”

“Didn’t break in.” San’s voice had gone a touch defensive, the way it did when he got caught doing something embarrassing. “Yeosang let me in.”

“Yeosang let you in to leave an earring on my nightstand?”

“I told him I needed to drop off your notes from last week.”

“We don’t share any classes.”

San went quiet, and his tail stilled. Wooyoung bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The big, strong shorthair who could pin him to the mattress without breaking a sweat was currently losing a battle with his own dignity over a piece of jewelry.

Wooyoung dropped the earring onto the desk beside the dumplings. The clinking sound made San slightly shrink in on himself. 

“You’re being weird,” Wooyoung said, not accusatory. He slid his hands down San’s chest, fingers splayed, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump beneath his ribs. “First the chips, then the boba, then the rock—”

“It was a nice rock.”

“It’s a rock, Sannie. From the courtyard.”

“It has quartz in it.” San twisted in the chair, finally meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. His expression was half pout, half something Wooyoung couldn’t name. Something softer. “You said you liked rocks when we went hiking last fall. The ones with the sparkles inside.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught. That hiking trip had been eight months ago; a group thing with Yunho and Mingi. Wooyoung had gotten distracted halfway up the trail, crouching to inspect a chunk of granite with a vein of something glittery running through it. He’d held it up to the sun, said it looked like treasure, then tossed it back into the bushes. A throwaway moment. He didn’t even remember saying it.

But Sannie remembered.

“Oh,” Wooyoung said. Suddenly quiet.

San’s ears swiveled forward, tracking the shift in Wooyoung’s voice. “It’s not weird,” he said, less defensive now, almost shy. “I just—you need things. So I get them. That’s all.”

That’s all.

Wooyoung stared at him. At the faint blush creeping up the back of San’s neck, the way his tail had started moving again, nervous little flicks. At the paper bag of food on the desk, the earring, the pen, the stupid stone that sat like a centerpiece among the chaos of Wooyoung’s textbooks.

“Sannie,” Wooyoung said slowly, “you know you don’t have to buy my affection, right? We’re already—” He gestured between them, a vague wave. “You know…”

San turned in the chair, brow furrowing. His head tilted, a quizzical cat gesture that would’ve been adorable if Wooyoung weren’t so confused. “That’s not—this isn’t—I’m not trying to buy anything.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just—” San’s jaw worked. His ears flattened, then perked, then flattened again. He looked, Wooyoung thought, like someone trying to explain a color to someone who couldn’t see it. “It’s what you’re supposed to do. For your—for someone you—”

He cut himself off. The blush had reached his cheeks now, visible even in the dim lamplight.

Ah, so there is a reason as to why he’s acting so weird. Wooyoung’s heart fluttered. “Someone you what?” He pushed. 

San didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back to the food, busying himself with arranging the containers. Shrimp dumplings on the left, crispy pork in the center, pickled radish on the right. 

Wooyoung watched him, and a suspicion began to form in the back of his mind. He didn’t know what was up with San yet, but fuck if he was going to find out. 

“Eat,” San said, nudging the plate toward Wooyoung’s side of the desk. “Before it gets cold.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m feeding you. There’s a difference.”

Wooyoung snorted but grabbed the chopsticks anyway. He mrreowed at San, telling him to move back so he could sit on his lap. The blush on San’s cheeks faded as he scooted the chair backwards. Wooyoung proudly sat on his thighs, the scent of the food derailing them from their conversation. 

“Thank you for feeding me, Sannie.” Wooyoung turned to headbutt San’s cheek. He kissed the spot where the blush just was. He felt a little bad for getting the shorthair so worked up, but he didn’t seem to be too upset about it. 

“Of course, my kitty,” San purred. “Now, eat.” He squeezed his hips once before grabbing his own pair of wooden chopsticks. 

The crispy pork was perfect—crackling skin, tender meat, a glossy glaze that stuck to his lips. San watched him take the first bite with an intensity that would’ve been unnerving if Wooyoung hadn’t grown used to it. The shorthair’s eyes tracked the movement of his chopsticks, his jaw, his throat when he swallowed.

“You’re staring,” Wooyoung said around a mouthful of pork.

“You’re beautiful.”

Wooyoung nearly choked. San said shit like that sometimes—just dropped it into conversation like it was nothing, like he wasn’t rearranging Wooyoung’s internal organs. Everytime, Wooyoung didn’t know how to respond. You too? That’s just stupid. 

San chuffed to himself, smug and proud. “Finish your food,” he added, noticing how Wooyoung was staring at him, blankly. He reached forward and swiped a piece of rice from the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth with his thumb. He licked it clean without breaking eye contact. 

The black kitty whined, “You’re not fair.”

San picked up his chopsticks again, reaching around Wooyoung to shove some more pork in his mouth. “How?” He asked, around the food in his mouth. 

Wooyoung rested his chopsticks against the container. “The thing. The–” He waved his hands, trying to find words. “One second you’re fucking me on the couch, the next you’re tucking me into bed and grooming my ears like I’m a kitten. And now the gifts.” He gestured towards the little shrine forming. “I don’t understand the rules here, San. Are we dating? Are we just fucking? Are you trying to court me like some Victorian gentleman—?”

San avoided his eyes, looking guilty. 

The black kitty turned fully in San’s lap, holding his face with his hands, forcing eye contact. “Spill. What’s going on with you?” He asked, softly, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Sannie.”

The shorthair’s shoulders dropped. His tail uncurled, sagging toward the floor. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, stripped of the easy confidence he’d been wearing since he walked through the door. “It’s not—I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane.”

“Try me.”

San looked at him. His eyes traced Wooyoung’s forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips like he was memorizing it. Then his gaze dropped to the desk, to the pile of objects Wooyoung had collected over the past week.

“Do you remember,” San said slowly, “when we first met?”

The question caught Wooyoung off guard. “When we became roommates?”

San nodded, “And you just walked up to me like we’d known each other for forever? You asked me if I wanted to get lunch after unpacking, and then you stole my hoodie and wore it as we explored the cafeteria.”

“You were too shy to tell me no.” Wooyoung defended himself, smiling at the memory. San brought his hands up to where Wooyoung was still holding his face, covering them with their warmth. For a second, he didn’t say anything. “Why are you bringing this up?” The black kitty prodded.

The shorthair sighed, holding Wooyoung’s hands in his now. “Because.” He bit his lip out of nervousness. “For British Shorthairs, there’s a—it’s a thing. We do a thing.”

“A thing.”

“A courtship thing.”

The word hung in the air between them. Courtship. Wooyoung’s brain snagged on it; something that hybrids didn’t really do anymore, but he had heard stories from his grandparents. 

“Courtship,” he repeated. 

“It’s not a big deal.” San was talking faster now, words tumbling out. He dropped Wooyoung’s hands, the warm contact disappearing. “It’s just—when we’re serious about someone, there’s this whole process. You’re supposed to provide for them, show them you can take care of them.” He gestured at the nightstand, at the pile of shiny objects. “The gifts are part of it. They’re supposed to prove you’re attentive. That you notice the things they like and you’re willing to go get them.”

Wooyoung blinked, his chest tightening. 

“The grooming,” San continued, his voice dropping even lower. “That’s also part of it. Physical care. Making sure your—your person is clean, comfortable, relaxed.” His ears flattened. “The sex is—I mean, that’s part of it too. Proving you can be a good mate, but it’s not just sex.”

Wooyoung’s mouth had gone dry. His tail had stopped moving entirely. “And how long,” he managed, “has this been going on?”

San’s blush was brighter than ever. It had spread down his neck now, disappearing beneath the collar of his gym tee. “A couple weeks,” he mumbled. “Kind of. I tried to suppress it, but after we—after last week—”

“The first time we slept together.” Wooyoung finished.

“—it’s gotten harder to control.” San finally met his eyes. His expression was somewhere between mortified and hopeful. “You’re my person, Wooyoung. You have been for a while. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Wooyoung’s brain had stopped working. The only thing running through it was mypersonmypersonmyperson. 

“I didn’t want to scare you off.” San’s voice was small. “We’re different breeds. You’re not—your breed doesn’t do the courtship thing the same way. I didn’t know if you’d think it was weird or possessive or—”

“It’s a little weird.”

“—and I thought if I just kept doing it quietly, maybe you wouldn’t notice, but then I couldn’t stop, and it got more obvious, and now you’re looking at me like I’ve grown a second tail.”

Wooyoung was looking at him. He couldn’t help it. All those months of San remembering his coffee order, walking him to class, leaving notes in his textbooks. The way San always seemed to know when he’d had a bad day before Wooyoung said a single word. The way San looked at him sometimes—quiet and intense, like Wooyoung was a puzzle he’d spend the rest of his life solving.

“You’re an idiot,” Wooyoung said.

San flinched.

“No—” Wooyoung grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before San could pull away. “Not like that. I mean—you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t be into this.” He squeezed. San’s palm was warm, a little sweaty, but perfect all the same. “You’ve been spoiling me rotten for the past week and I just thought you were being sweet because you’re you,” Wooyoung said, still holding San’s hand. His thumb traced circles over San’s knuckles. “Which you are. But this is—this is different, isn’t it?”

San’s ears perked forward again, cautious hope bleeding into his scent. “Different how?”

“Different like you didn’t just bring me dinner because I was hungry. You brought my favorite dinner because you remembered.” His tail curled around San’s wrist. “Because you’re not just my best friend, are you?”

The shorthair’s breath hitched.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to call this,” Wooyoung continued, his pulse a steady flutter beneath his skin. “Us. What we’re doing. And I think—” He hesitated, just for a second. “I think if you’re courting me, then I want to be courted. By you,” Wooyoung specified. “Only you.”

San’s eyes went wide. His pupils dilated, dark and swallowing, and his tail shot straight up—a reflex he clearly couldn’t control. “You mean it?”

“I mean it.” Wooyoung leaned in, close enough that their foreheads almost touched. “But you have to use your words now, Sannie. Tell me what you want. Is that what you want?”

“I want,” he said, voice catching, “whatever you’ll give me. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to pressure you into—”

Wooyoung kissed him.

It was the fastest way to shut him up. Also the most enjoyable. San made a surprised sound against his mouth, that soft mrrp that vibrated through Wooyoung’s lips and straight down his spine. His free hand came up to cup Wooyoung’s jaw, tilting his head, and then he was kissing back with the kind of focus that made the black kitty’s brain go pleasantly fuzzy.

The kiss tasted like the sauce from the dumplings. San’s lips were slightly chapped, his breath warm, his fangs just barely grazing Wooyoung’s bottom lip. Wooyoung chased the sensation, opening his mouth, letting San lick inside. 

San pulled back first. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing uneven. A strand of spit connected their mouths for a half-second before it broke. “So that’s… a yes? To the boyfriend thing?”

“It’s a yes,” Wooyoung said. “Obviously it’s a yes. How could it not be a yes? You’ve been leaving me gifts, San. You broke into my dorm to leave an earring on my nightstand.”

“Yeosang let me in.” He reminded Wooyoung, as if that was going to change the situation. 

“Same thing.” Wooyoung pressed his forehead against San’s, breathing in his scent—clove and warmth and a faint undertone of satisfaction. His cat was happy and preening. Wooyoung could feel the purr building in San’s chest, a low rumble that seeped into his own bones.

“So,” San murmured, his nose brushing against Wooyoung’s, “you’re not freaked out.”

“I’m a little freaked out.”

“A little?”

“It’s a lot to process. But I’m not—I’m not unhappy about it.” Wooyoung pulled back enough to look at San properly. His hair was rumpled, his ears askew, his lips pink and kiss-swollen. “I just wish you’d told me sooner instead of letting me think you were just being weird.”

San laughed, a breathy huff that tickled Wooyoung’s cheek. “I’m sorry for the confusion.”

Wooyoung shook his head, giving their intertwined hands a reassuring squeeze. They sat like that for a moment—foreheads together, hands intertwined, tails curling lazily. His brain was trying to catch up on the entirety of their friendship. He paused on a particular moment. “Wait,” Wooyoung said, pulling back. “The grooming thing. Is that why you lick my ears so much?”

San’s ears flattened. “It’s a bonding behavior.”

“You lick them clean, Sannie. For like twenty minutes at a time.”

“They get dirty.”

“They’re attached to my head. I can clean them myself.”

“I know you can.” San’s voice had gone a little rough, a little lower than usual. His hand broke  free to slide up Wooyoung’s jaw, then to the nape of his neck, fingers settling in the soft fur at the base of his ear. “I just like doing it for you.”

The touch sent a familiar wave of heat prickling down Wooyoung’s spine. His body recognized the position—the hand at his nape, the gentle pressure, the promise of submission. He swallowed hard.

Wooyoung arched into the touch, mouth parting. 

San’s purr intensified, a rich vibration that filled the small dorm room. “Good kitty,” he murmured, and Wooyoung’s eyes nearly rolled back.

“You can’t just say that,” Wooyoung managed.

“Why not?”

“Because we haven’t finished dinner and I’m trying to have a coherent conversation with you and you keep—” San’s nails scraped lightly against his scalp, and Wooyoung’s sentence dissolved into a mewl. “—doing that.”

San’s grin widened. He looked, Wooyoung thought distantly, like a cat who’d gotten into the catnip. “Let’s finish eating” He said, withdrawing his hand. “Then we can talk more. Or not talk, whichever you prefer.”

Wooyoung made a sound of protest at the loss of contact, but the pork was calling his name, and his stomach was growing more hangry. He picked up his chopsticks with slightly trembling fingers and shoveled a dumpling into his mouth.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. San kept sneaking glances at him—soft, reverent looks that made Wooyoung’s tail curl.

By the time they’d demolished most of the food, the sun had fully set. The only light in the room came from Wooyoung's desk lamp. The kitty leaned back into San’s chest, full and warm and still slightly dazed from the revelation of everything. 

“I have questions,” he announced, disrupting the rare silence.

San, who had been licking sauce off his thumb, looked up. “Okay.”

“The rock.” The black cat paused for words. “Why?”

“I told you. The hiking trip.”

“But why leave it on my nightstand instead of just giving it to me?”

San thought for a minute. “The placement matters. The gift is supposed to be somewhere you’ll find it on your own. It’s more—I don’t know how to explain it. It’s more meaningful if you discover it.”

“Like a cat leaving a dead mouse on the doorstep.” Wooyoung’s tail swished with amusement. “That’s what this is. You’re a big fluffy cat bringing me dead mice.”

“I brought you dumplings.” San made a face—half offended, half reluctantly amused. “It’s not the same. Dead mice are practical. Gifts are supposed to be personal.”

“The earring was personal?”

“It was my grandmother’s.”

Wooyoung’s chopsticks clattered against his plate. “What?”

“It was my grandmother’s.” San repeated it so casually, like he hadn’t just dropped another bomb directly onto Wooyoung’s understanding of the past week. “She gave it to me before she passed. Said I should give it to someone important someday.”

Wooyoung stared at the earring where it lay on the desk. The crescent moon, the delicate silver chain. He’d thought it was just a piece of jewelry San had lying around. He’d been ready to shove it in a drawer and forget about it.

His hand trembled when he reached for it.

“San,” he said, voice cracking, “you can’t just—you gave me your grandmother’s earring without any context?”

“I thought the context was implied.”

“How—in what world—?”

San’s expression shifted from casual to concerned. He reached across the desk, covering Wooyoung’s hand with his own. The earring pressed between their palms. “I wanted you to have it. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it because I was scared you’d say no, or that you’d think it was too much.”

“It is too much.”

“Do you want me to take it back?”

“No!” Wooyoung clutched the earring to his chest. His tail had puffed up, a reflexive response to the idea of letting it go. “No, I just—Sannie, this is important. This is heirloom important. You can’t just sneak it onto my desk like the bag of chips.”

“I don’t do things halfway. When I said you were my person, I meant it. I’ve meant it for a long time. The gifts aren’t just—they’re not random. They’re supposed to show you that I pay attention, that I see you. The chips, the boba, the pen—those are things you like, things you’ll use. But the earring is different.” His voice dropped. “The earring means I want this to last.”

Wooyoung’s throat constricted. His eyes burned with the threat of tears, frustrating, embarrassing tears that he absolutely did not want to shed in the middle of his dorm room while surrounded by empty takeout containers.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say, but it came out wobbly, completely undermining the insult. “You’re the stupidest cat I’ve ever met.”

“I know.”

“You couldn’t just say ‘I like you, let’s date’ like a normal person?”

“Normal is boring.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.” San lifted Wooyoung’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. His lips were warm, slightly sticky from the dumpling sauce. “But you’re still here.”

Of course Wooyoung was still here. Wooyoung would always be here. That was the terrifying thing; the thing he hadn’t let himself think about too deeply until now. The idea of walking away, of losing this, was so wrong that his cat instincts recoiled from it.

San tapped Wooyoung’s thighs to signal for him to get up. The black cat hmmphed his protests, but stood anyway. The shorthair collected the empty containers and piling them back into the paper bag. Wooyoung watched him move with contentment. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of tanned skin above his waistband. Wooyoung’s fingers itched to touch it.

“There’s one more thing,” He said, his back still turned as he tied off the bag, “about the courtship.”

“What?”

“It’s not just about the gifts and the grooming and the—” He hesitated, ears flicking. “The other stuff. It’s also about… reactions.”

“Reactions?”

“Your reactions.” San turned around. His expression had shifted, still soft, still fond, but with something sharper now. “The way you respond to what I do matters. If you accept the gifts, if you lean into the touch, if you—if you submit, that tells me you’re receptive. That you’re interested in what I’m offering.”

Wooyoung’s mouth went dry. “And if I hadn’t been receptive?”

“Then I would’ve backed off. Eventually.” San’s tail gave a slow swish. “But you never did. You accepted every gift, you wore my hoodie, you let me groom you. You even—” His voice dropped an octave. “You came to me last week when you needed comfort. That was a signal too.”

“I just wanted cuddles.”

“You wanted more than cuddles.”

Wooyoung’s ears flattened. He couldn’t argue with that. He’d practically thrown himself at San last week, grinding on him through multiple layers of clothing, begging for his mouth. His cat had been screaming mate mate mate for hours before San finally took the hint.

“So the whole time,” Wooyoung said slowly, “you were reading my reactions, watching whether I was interested.”

“I wanted to be sure.” San stepped closer. “I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for.”

“So you waited until I practically climbed you like a tree?”

“That seemed like a clear signal.”

Wooyoung stood up from his chair. They were close now—inches apart, the heat of San’s body radiating against his skin. San’s scent had shifted again, the floral notes giving way to something muskier. Anticipation. 

“You’re stupid,” Wooyoung said, but his voice had gone soft.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it keeps being true.” Wooyoung reached up, cupping San’s face in both hands. His thumbs brushed over San’s cheekbones, tracing the faint shadows beneath his eyes. “But I guess I’m also stupid, because I’ve been falling for you for weeks and I didn’t even realize it until now.”

San’s breath caught. “Weeks?”

“San, we were attached by the hip basically the whole entirety of last year.” Wooyoung stated. “Nothing about us was casual. You’ve been my person too, Sannie. I was just too dense to figure out what it meant.”

The sound San made—half purr, half desperate whine—vibrated through Wooyoung’s palms. He surged forward, catching Wooyoung’s mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the gentle exploration from earlier. This was hungry, possessive. San’s hands found Wooyoung’s hips and pulled him flush against his body.

Wooyoung melted into it. His fingers slid into San’s hair, tugging at the roots, and San growled, an actual growl, low and rumbling and straight out of his chest. The sound went directly to Wooyoung’s core, heat pooling between his thighs.

“Door,” Wooyoung gasped, “Yeosang coming back—”

“He’s at Mingi’s.” San’s mouth trailed down to Wooyoung’s jaw, nipping at the bone. “Texted me earlier. We have the room for the night.”

“Convenient.”

“Planned.”

Of course, Wooyoung laughed, but it turned into a moan as San’s teeth grazed his scent gland. His knees buckled, and San caught him, arms wrapping around his waist, holding him steady.

“Bed,” San murmured against his neck.

“Bold of you to assume I can walk.”

San didn’t bother with a response. He just scooped Wooyoung up, arms under his thighs, Wooyoung’s legs wrapping automatically around his waist, and carried him the three steps to the bed. Wooyoung landed on his back, bouncing once, and then San was on top of him, a solid, warm weight that pinned him to the mattress.

“We should talk more,” Wooyoung said, even as his hands slid under San’s shirt, mapping the ridges of his abs. “About the courtship, about what happens next.”

“We can talk later.” San’s mouth found his collarbone. His tongue traced the hollow at the base of Wooyoung’s throat. “Right now I want to show you.”

“Show me what?”

San pulled back just enough to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his expression intense. “What happens,” he said, “when the person you’re courting says yes.”

Wooyoung’s heart stuttered. His ears perked forward, his tail going rigid. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” San dipped his head, kissing the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth. “So. Do you want me to show you?” 

The answer was obvious. It had been obvious since the moment San stepped through the door. Maybe since the honey butter chips, maybe since the hoodie in freshman year. Wooyoung’s cat was purring so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts, a steady thrum of yes yes finally yes.

“Show me,” Wooyoung breathed.

San smiled slow, satisfied, predatory in the way only a cat who’d finally caught what he’d been chasing could be. His hand slid back to the nape of Wooyoung’s neck, that perfect pressure point that made Wooyoung’s brain go static.

“Good kitty,” he murmured, and leaned down to claim Wooyoung’s mouth.

The kiss was slower this time. San took his time exploring, his tongue tracing the seam of Wooyoung’s lips before slipping inside. Wooyoung let himself be kissed, let himself sink into the mattress, into San’s weight, into the haze of submission that settled over him whenever San touched his neck like that.

His hands roamed San’s back, pushing the loose gym tee higher until it bunched around San’s shoulder blades. The skin beneath was hot, smooth, muscles shifting as San adjusted his position. Wooyoung mapped the dip of San’s spine, the flex of his lats, the way his shoulder blades moved like wings when he braced his forearms on either side of Wooyoung’s head.

“Mmm, off,” Wooyoung mumbled against San’s lips.

San huffed a laugh, but he complied, sitting back on his heels to yank his shirt over his head. It landed somewhere in the room. Probably on the desk, but neither of them cared.

Wooyoung reached up, pressing his palm flat against San’s sternum. He could feel San’s heartbeat beneath his ribs—fast, erratic, giving away his calmness. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Why?”

“Because this matters.” San’s hand covered Wooyoung’s, lacing their fingers together over his heart. “You matter. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Wooyoung’s chest ached. He sat up, tugging San down at the same time, until their foreheads bumped together. “You’re not going to mess it up. You’ve literally been courting me without me noticing. If anything, you’re too good at this.”

“I’ve been suppressing a lot of it. If I let the instincts do what they want, it would be a lot more intense.”

“Define intense.”

San’s ears flattened. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“San.” Wooyoung nipped at his chin, sharp enough to sting. “I just found out you gave me your dead grandmother’s earring as a courtship gift. I’m way past scared. Tell me.”

The shorthair hesitated. His tail gave a nervous flick, but Wooyoung held his gaze, stubborn and demanding, and eventually San’s shoulders sagged.

“Full courtship involves scent-marking,” he said, voice low. “More than what I’ve been doing. I’d want to rub my scent all over you. Every day. Multiple times a day, especially before you leave the dorm and after you come back.”

“That’s just clingy behavior. I already do that.”

“It also involves—” San’s breath hitched. “Nesting. Building a space for you, somewhere safe. Usually the bed, but sometimes other places too. I’d want to line it with things that smell like me. And things that smell like you. And things you’ve given me.”

“It’s not always adorable.” San’s voice had gone rough again. “It’s territorial. I’d want to mark other things too. Your clothes, your room, your belongings…You.” His thumb stroked over Wooyoung’s pulse point. “I’d want everyone to know you’re taken. Scented. Claimed.”

The word sent a jolt through Wooyoung’s system. Claimed. It should have felt wrong—possessive, controlling, all the things he normally hated in a partner. But coming from San, delivered in that husky voice while his hand rested on Wooyoung’s throat, it felt like a promise.

“What else?” Wooyoung whispered.

“Grooming. A lot of it. I’d want to clean every inch of you. Make sure you’re taken care of.” San’s eyes dropped to Wooyoung’s chest, where his shirt had ridden up. “I’d want to feed you more. Cook for you, make sure you’re eating enough.”

“I eat plenty.”

“You skipped lunch yesterday.”

Wooyoung’s ears flattened, caught redhanded. “How’d you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Seonghwa’s a traitor.”

“Seonghwa is a good friend who wants you to be happy and fed.” San’s teeth scraped over Wooyoung’s jaw. “The point is, full courtship is a lot. It’s intense, and I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Wooyoung considered this. The earring, the rock, the pen, the food—all of it was San on a leash. The thought was dizzying. What would it look like if he stopped holding back?

“Show me,” Wooyoung said again.

San stilled. “What?”

“Stop holding back. Show me what full courtship looks like.” Wooyoung’s fingers dug into San’s shoulders, claws pricking the skin. “I’m not going to break, Sannie. I’m an Abyssinian. We can handle a little intensity.”

San’s eyes darkened. The purr that had been rumbling in his chest kicked up in volume, vibrating through Wooyoung’s entire body. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So educate me.”

For a long moment, San didn’t move. His tail was rigid, his ears pricked forward, his whole body coiled like a spring. Wooyoung could see the war happening behind his eyes. Then, he exhaled. A full-body release of tension. His shoulders dropped, his jaw softened, and something shifted in his expression. Something hungry.

“Okay,” he said. “But first—”

He leaned down, pressing his nose into the hollow of Wooyoung’s throat. Wooyoung heard him inhale a long, slow breath that seemed to pull Wooyoung’s scent directly into his lungs. San’s purr intensified, and then his tongue swept over the kitty’s scent gland in a broad, wet stroke.

Wooyoung gasped. His hips bucked involuntarily, his body responding to the sensation before his brain caught up. “What—?”

“Scent-marking,” San murmured, his lips moving against Wooyoung’s skin. “I’m going to do this for a while. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” The word came out strangled. “Yeah, that’s—that’s fine.”

San made a satisfied sound and returned to his work. His tongue traced patterns across Wooyoung’s throat, up to his jaw, behind his ears, across his collarbones.

Wooyoung’s brain went offline. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way, warm and wet and intimately possessive. Every stroke of San’s tongue left a trail of heat in its wake, a phantom claim that Wooyoung could feel sinking into his skin. His scent was changing, he realized. The usual spicy cinnamon was being overlaid with San’s floral notes, their aromas mingling into something new. Something that smelled like them.

“Sannie,” he breathed, “this is—”

“Good?”

“Yeah. Really good.” Wooyoung’s hands slid into San’s hair, holding him in place. “Don’t stop.”

San didn’t stop. He licked and nuzzled and purred until Wooyoung’s entire upper body felt like it was wrapped in a warm blanket. His tail had gone limp, draping over the edge of the bed. His ears had relaxed completely, no longer flicking with anxiety or anticipation. Just—calm. 

At some point, San migrated from his throat to his ears. The first stroke of his tongue against the sensitive inner curve made Wooyoung whine—a high, needy sound he didn’t recognize as his own. San paused, checking in, and Wooyoung pushed his head harder into San’s mouth in response.

The grooming continued. San’s tongue was rough, textured in the way all cat hybrids’ were, and it caught against the fine fur of Wooyoung’s ears with delicious friction. He cleaned each ear meticulously, working from base to tip, then back down again. By the time he was done, Wooyoung’s ears were damp and tingling and so sensitive that even the air felt like a caress.

“Turn over,” San said, his voice wrecked.

Wooyoung obeyed without thinking. He rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms. San’s weight settled over his hips—not crushing, just present. His tongue found the nape of Wooyoung’s neck, tracing the sensitive spot where his scruff would be, and Wooyoung’s spine melted.

“This is part of it too,” San murmured between licks. “The grooming, the claiming, making sure you smell like me.”

“‘M not complaining.” Wooyoung’s voice was muffled by his arms. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all semester.”

San laughed, the puff of air cool against Wooyoung’s damp skin. “Good. That’s the point.”

He worked his way down Wooyoung’s spine, pausing at the hem of his shirt. A questioning sound. Wooyoung nodded without lifting his head, and San pushed the fabric up, baring Wooyoung’s back to the cool dorm air.

The first stroke of San’s tongue between his shoulder blades made Wooyoung’s claws curl into the sheets. The second made his tail give a lazy swish. By the tenth, he was purring so loudly he could feel it in his teeth.

“Pretty,” San said, scraping his teeth gently over Wooyoung’s back. “So pretty, Wooyoungie. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me.”

“You make me want to keep you.” San’s voice had dropped to a growl, vibrating against Wooyoung’s skin. “Lock the door and never let you leave.”

“Possessive,” Wooyoung said, but it came out dreamy, half-lost in the haze of pleasure.

“Very.” San’s teeth grazed his lower back, just above his tail. “Is that a problem?”

Wooyoung considered the question. In theory, possessiveness was a red flag. In theory, in this very specific moment, with San’s tongue on his skin and San’s scent in his lungs, it felt like the opposite of a problem. It felt like being wanted. Being chosen.

“No,” he decided. “Not a problem.”

San growled in satisfaction. His hands slid down Wooyoung’s sides, rucking up his shirt further, exposing more skin to his mouth. He licked a stripe up Wooyoung’s spine that ended at his nape, teeth closing gently around the scruff.

The world went hazy. Wooyoung’s limbs turned to jelly. His purr stuttered, then resumed at twice the volume.

“Good boy,” San murmured around his mouthful of skin. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Wooyoung couldn’t have argued if he wanted to. His brain had gone quiet, all the anxious chatter about classes and deadlines and confusing courtship rituals fading into static. Nothing existed except the pressure of San’s teeth, the warmth of his body, the steady rumble of his purr.

Time slipped. Minutes, maybe longer. San held the scruff until Wooyoung was completely boneless, then released it and licked the spot in apology. The sting of teeth marks lingered, a pleasant ache that Wooyoung knew he’d be touching later.

“You still with me?” San asked.

“Mmm.”

“Words, Wooyoungie.”

“‘M here.” Wooyoung forced his eyes open. The sheets beneath him were damp with drool. Embarrassing. He couldn’t bring himself to care. “That was…”

“Too much?”

“Perfect.” Wooyoung rolled onto his side, pulling San down with him until they were face to face on the pillow. San’s cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, his hair a disaster. He looked wrecked. He looked beautiful. “You’ve been holding back on me all this time.”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Consider me overwhelmed. In a good way.” Wooyoung reached up, brushing San’s bangs out of his eyes. 

“What happens now? With the courtship. Do we just… keep doing this?”

San was quiet for a moment. “If you want to. It’s not—the courtship doesn’t end with the, uh, physical stuff. It’s ongoing. As long as we’re together, I’ll still want to take care of you. Bring you things. Keep you safe.”

“That sounds like a relationship.”

“It is a relationship. Just with more specifics.”

Wooyoung hummed, “okay.” 

“Okay?”

“Okay, we’ll do this. The whole courtship thing. All of it.” Wooyoung pressed a kiss to San’s jaw. “But I have conditions.”

San’s ears perked. “Name them.”

“One: no more breaking into my dorm. Use the door like a normal person. I’ll give you a key if you want, but you have to ask first.”

“Deal.”

“Two: you have to talk to me. When the instincts get too loud, or you’re worried about something, or you feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t scent-mark me for the fifth time that day—you tell me. No more secret courting. We do this together.”

San stared at him. His expression was unreadable, ears and tail still as he let Wooyoung’s words settle. For a terrifying second, Wooyoung thought he’d pushed too hard, but then San smiled. It was relief. “You’re really okay with this,” he whispered. “With all of it.”

“I’m more than okay.” Wooyoung stroked San’s hair, careful around his ears. “You’re not the only one with instincts, Sannie.”

There was a beat where neither of the two kitty’s said anything. Wooyoung was about to fold under San’s stare—the way they were full of devotion and love. 

“And three?” The shorthair muttered, indulging in Wooyoung’s take on control. He propped his head up on his elbow, watching the kitty. 

Wooyoung scooted closer, searching San’s eyes for a moment. “You have to let me reciprocate. I’m not just going to lie here and be spoiled. I want to take care of you too.”

San’s brow furrowed. “That’s not really how—”

“I’m not a British Shorthair.” Wooyoung pushed at San’s shoulder until his arm fell, and he rolled onto his back, and then Wooyoung was the one looming above, knees bracketing San’s hips, tail swishing with satisfaction. “I’m an Abyssinian. We’re loud and demanding and we don’t let our mates do all the work.”

San’s hands came up automatically, settling on Wooyoung’s thighs. “Mate,” he repeated.

Wooyoung’s face heated. “Shut up.”

“You said mate.”

“I said a lot of things. I just negotiated three conditions to your weird cat marriage ritual. You don’t get to ignore it all just for ‘mate.’”

“It’s a good word.” San’s thumbs traced circles on the inside of Wooyoung’s thighs, maddeningly light. He definitely didn’t listen to what the black cat just said. “Say it again.”

“Make me.” Wooyoung retorted, wishing this conversation would end already. 

The challenge hung between them, electric. San’s expression shifted—that predatory edge returning, the one that made Wooyoung’s stomach drop like he’d missed a step on the stairs. In one fluid motion, San sat up, bringing them chest to chest, Wooyoung’s legs still wrapped around his waist.

“You want me to make you?” San’s voice was barely a whisper, his lips brushing the shell of Wooyoung’s furry ear. His teeth caught the edge, not biting, but holding. “That’s not how this works, Wooyoungie. You already said yes. You already agreed to be courted. You don’t get to be bratty about it now.”

Wooyoung’s breath stuttered. The word bratty in San’s mouth did something unfair to his insides. “I’m not being bratty.” 

“You’re being incredibly bratty.” San’s hand slid up Wooyoung’s thigh, thumb pressing into the crease where leg met hip, inching closer and closer to the source of heat. “You just gave me a list of demands, you called my courtship ritual weird, you made fun of my rock.” His teeth grazed Wooyoung’s throat, right over his racing pulse. “And now you’re sitting in my lap, grinding against me, pretending you’re in charge.”

Wooyoung hadn’t realized he was grinding, but now that San mentioned it…yeah, his hips were moving in tiny, desperate circles, seeking friction. His body had bypassed his brain entirely. “I’m not pretending,” he managed. “I’m settling this.”

San’s eyes flickered with something dark. “Oh? You are?” He slid his hand higher, fingers curling around the waistband of Wooyoung’s sweats. “You gave me your conditions. Now I’m going to show you mine.”

Wooyoung’s mouth went dry. “You have conditions?”

“I have a lot of conditions.” San tugged at the drawstring, loosening it with a single pull. “Condition one,” his hand slipped beneath the fabric, palm flat against his stomach. His thumb stroked the soft skin just below his navel, and Wooyoung’s brain short-circuited. “You’re going to come for me twice before I even think about fucking you.”

Wooyoung’s hips jerked involuntarily. His mouth opened on a gasp, terribly turned on. A thrill sent up his spine, words abandoning him. 

The shorthair’s hand slid lower, cupping Wooyoung through his underwear. The heat of his palm was electric. “God, you’re so wet. How long have you been like this?”

“Since you said full courtship involves nesting.” The admission came out breathless. “The idea of you building a bed for us—I don’t know why that did it for me.”

San’s purr started up. “I’m going to build you the best nest. Soft blankets, my hoodies, that one pillow you always steal from my side of the bed. Everything will smell like us.”

“Sannie.”

“And tomorrow I’ll mark your door. Everyone on this floor will know you’re taken.”

Wooyoung’s claws dug into San’s shoulders. A broken sound escaped his throat—half moan, half whine. The possessiveness should have bothered him, but instead, it made his pussy clench around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“You like that,” San observed, leaning back against the wall. His eyes traced down Wooyoung’s body, like he was undressing him in his mind. His thumbs moved to trace the outline of Wooyoung’s folds through the soaked cotton. “You like the idea of being claimed.”

Wooyoung's heart sped up, brain racing to think of an excuse. “I like you. The claiming is just—a bonus.”

“Liar.” San nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. “Your scent spiked the second I mentioned marking. You want people to know.”

“Maybe I do.” Wooyoung’s head fell back, exposing more of his throat, a submissive gesture. San’s response was a low growl. He withdrew his hand from Wooyoung’s sweats, ignoring the desperate noise of protest, and instead hooked his fingers into the waistband of both sweatpants and underwear. “Lift your hips.”

Wooyoung complied, letting San drag the fabric down his thighs. He moved off of his lap for a split second to kick the pants off his ankles. The shorthair’s hands never left him, impatiently dragging the kitty back onto his lap. 

Wooyoung's bare skin met the cool dorm air. His tail gave an involuntary flick, the only part of him still covered by fur that wasn't already damp from San's earlier ministrations. The position was obscene—spread across San's lap, knees bracketing his hips, nothing between his slick cunt and San's gym shorts. 

The shorthair looked down. Not at his face, but at the place where Wooyoung's thighs parted, where dark hair gave way to glistening slick.

"Fuck," San breathed. "You're dripping, Wooyoungie. I haven't even touched you yet and there's a wet spot on my shorts."

Wooyoung glanced down. Sure enough, a dark patch had bloomed on the fabric where his weight pressed against San's lap. His claws pricked San's shoulders in retaliation. He can’t help it. San gets him so wet. 

San's hand slid from the small of the kitty’s back down to his ass, gripping the plush flesh hard enough to leave fingerprints. His other hand moved between them, two fingers dragging through Wooyoung's slick folds with deliberate slowness.

"Look at you," San murmured, his breath hot against Wooyoung's collarbone. "Already soaked and I've barely touched you. What am I going to do with you, hmm?"

Wooyoung's hips rolled forward, chasing the pressure of San's fingers. His claws left tiny crescents in the skin. "Touch me more. That's what you're going to do."

"Bossy." San's teeth grazed Wooyoung's throat in response, but his fingers obeyed, parting Wooyoung's folds and spreading slick up to his clit. The pad of his thumb circled the swollen nub, feather-light, barely there. "You've been bossy all night. Making demands, calling my rock stupid…"

"It was a rock, Sannie—" Wooyoung's protest dissolved into a gasp as San's finger pressed down harder, a sudden spike of pressure that made his vision blur at the edges.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. The rock was great. Best rock I've ever seen."

San's laugh vibrated against Wooyoung's skin. "That's what I thought." His finger resumed its maddening circles, alternating between light teasing strokes and firm pressure that made Wooyoung's thighs tremble. "You get so mouthy, but you just want someone to put you in your place, don’t you?” 

The black cat nodded, his eyes growing hazy from the pleasure buzzing through his body. His hand had wrapped around San's forearm, clinging like an anchor as the shorthair's fingers worked his clit with infuriating precision. He’d do anything to keep this pace going. “Don’t mean to be bratty.” He whined, hips twitching. 

San cooed, his other hand coming up to squeeze his ass again. “Don’t worry, kitty, I’ll take care of you.” Two fingers pressed against Wooyoung’s entrance, not pushing in, just resting there. "But first, you're going to come on my fingers. Remember?"

"Condition one," Wooyoung breathed.

"Condition one," San confirmed. And then his fingers pushed inside. The stretch was familiar.  They'd done this before, multiple times over the past week, but it hit different now. He knew the intentions behind San’s actions: claim, mate, court.

San's fingers were slim but long, two of them filling Wooyoung in a way that made his mouth fall open. The shorthair didn't rush. He pushed in slowly, letting Wooyoung feel every inch, and then he crooked them forward.

Wooyoung's back arched. His claws dragged down San's chest, leaving faint red lines that made the shorthair hiss in approval.

"That's it," San purred, his thumb finding Wooyoung's clit while his fingers worked inside him. The dual sensation was devastating, the deep pressure of San's fingers curling against that spot, the light friction of his thumb circling the swollen bud. "Right there? Is that where you need it?"

"Right there, right there, don't stop!" The words tumbled out of Wooyoung in a rush, his hips rocking against San's hand with increasing desperation. The wet sounds of San's fingers moving inside him filled the dorm room, obscene and perfect.

San's other hand left Wooyoung's hip, and then came down on his ass with a sharp, stinging crack that echoed through the room.

Wooyoung's body reacted before his brain could catch up. His hips stilled instantly, frozen mid-roll, and a whine slipped from his throat, high and needy. His claws retracted from San's shoulders on pure instinct, pressing flat palms against the shorthair's chest instead.

The sting felt hot and possessive, settling right where Wooyoung's tail met his spine. He should have been embarrassed by how fast he'd obeyed, how the slap had cut through the desperate haze of his grinding and left him pliant, waiting, wanting more direction. But San was looking at him with those dark, satisfied eyes, and Wooyoung's cunt clenched around his fingers in response.

"There we go," San murmured, his voice low and approving. His fingers resumed their slow, deliberate curl inside Wooyoung's pussy, rewarded with a fresh gush of slick that coated his hand. "That's my good kitty. Look at you—taking my fingers so well. Like you were made for this." He worked Wooyoung open with maddening patience, scissoring his fingers just so, watching the way Wooyoung's face twisted with every curl and thrust.

"You feel that?" San's voice was a low rumble, his nose brushing against Wooyoung's ear. "Feel how your body opens for me? How wet you get every time I push in?" He emphasized the words with a slow thrust, his fingers sinking deep, and Wooyoung's walls fluttered around them in response. "That's your body telling you yes. Telling you it knows who it belongs to now."

Wooyoung grasped San’s shoulders for leverage. His hips bucked, trying to fuck himself on San's fingers, but the shorthair's free hand pressed down on his hip, pinning him in place, a reminder.

"Ah-ah," San clicked his tongue, pulling his fingers almost all the way out before pushing them back in, watching Wooyoung's hole stretch to accommodate them. "You don't get to move. I'm the one courting you, remember? I set the pace. I decide when you get to come." He thrust his fingers deeper at the word, curling upward, and Wooyoung's vision went white at the edges. "You just lie there and take it like the pretty little cat you are."

The words hit Wooyoung like a physical blow, settling into his bones like they'd always belonged there. His tail went limp, his ears flat, his whole body softening into submission. He let his head fall back, baring his throat, a gesture of pure trust.

San's purr became a growl. He pulled his fingers out slowly, deliberately, until only the tips remained inside Wooyoung. Then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deep, and Wooyoung's mouth fell open on a silent cry.

"Sannie." Wooyoung's head fell forward, forehead pressing against San's shoulder. His breath came in panting gasps, fogging against San's skin. "I want—I want you to make me come. Please. Please make me come."

"Since you asked so nicely." San's purr intensified, the vibration traveling through his chest and into Wooyoung's body. His fingers resumed their earlier rhythm, faster now, curling and thrusting while his thumb worked Wooyoung's clit in tight circles. "Let go, Wooyoungie, I've got you. Show me how good I make you feel."

The black cat’s voice climbed higher as his orgasm approached fast. He dug his head into San’s neck, shaking from how bad he wanted to come. A third finger prodded at Wooyoung’s hole, sliding in easily. 

“Fuck—Sannie!” Wooyoung felt tears in his eyes from the pleasure. “I’m—” He choked on another moan as the shorthair's thumb caught on his clit, the perfect angle. “Coming, I’m coming!” His orgasm hit him like a wave, pussy clenching around San's fingers, pulsing in rhythmic contractions, and a high keen broke from his throat.

San worked him through it, fingers still thrusting, thumb still circling, drawing out every last tremor until Wooyoung collapsed against his chest. 

"There's one," San murmured, withdrawing his fingers and lifting them to Wooyoung's mouth. "Clean them."

The fog was still clouding Wooyoung’s brain, but the command rang clear as a bell. His tongue darted out, lapping his own slick from San's digits. The taste was salty and slightly sweet, and San watched with dark eyes as Wooyoung sucked his fingers clean. Once the bigger kitty decided Wooyoung had licked them enough, his fingers slipped from the other’s mouth with a wet pop. Wooyoung’s tongue followed, chasing the taste, but San was already moving—shifting their positions with that fluid strength that always caught Wooyoung off guard.

One moment Wooyoung was draped across San’s lap, boneless and sated. The next, his back hit the mattress, and San was looming above him. 

"You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you?” San murmured, his gaze dragging down Wooyoung's body with deliberate slowness. "I said twice. That was only once." He punctuated the words by dragging his thumb through Wooyoung's slick folds, gathering the fresh wetness that had already begun to pool. “And I always keep my promises.

Wooyoung's breath hitched. His hips twitched, torn between pressing into San's touch and arching away from the overwhelming sensitivity. "Sannie, I—"

"Shh." San's free hand pressed down on Wooyoung's stomach, pinning him flat. "I'm not done with you yet. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it. Understand?"

Wooyoung's mouth opened, but only a whimper came out. He nodded, ears flattening against his skull. Good kitty. Be good for Sannie.

"That's my good boy." San's approval washed over him like a warm sunbeam. Then the shorthair was moving lower, his mouth trailing down Wooyoung's sternum, his stomach, pausing to nip at the jut of his hipbone. "You taste so fucking sweet, you know that? I could drink you dry and still beg for more."

When San settled between Wooyoung's thighs, the sight alone nearly undid him—the broad shoulders, the hungry glint in those brown eyes, the way San's hands gripped his plush thighs like he was about to devour him.

“You smell different now,” San murmured against his belly. “Before, you smelled like you. Cinnamon and honey and Wooyoung. Now—” He inhaled, deep and slow, his nose pressing into the soft skin just above Wooyoung’s mound. “Now you smell like us.”

Wooyoung’s hands fisted in the sheets. His tail gave a weak thump against the mattress.

And then San's mouth was on him. His tongue traced the crease where Wooyoung’s thigh met his hip, darting lower to lap up the slick that had dripped down. The sound he made, a low, satisfied rumble, sent vibrations straight through Wooyoung’s core.

The first stroke to his pussy was broad and slow, San licking from entrance to clit like he was savoring a meal. The texture of his tongue, rough like all cat hybrids’, dragged against Wooyoung’s sensitive pussy in a way that made his spine arch off the mattress. His back bowed off the mattress, claws tearing into the sheets as San feasted. There was nothing gentle about it. San licked into him like a starving man, like Wooyoung was the only thing that could keep him alive.

"Fuck, Sannie—" Wooyoung's voice broke on a sob as San's tongue pushed inside him, curling and fucking into his hole with relentless precision. The shorthair's nose pressed against his clit with every thrust, and Wooyoung could feel himself dripping down San's chin, could hear the obscene wet sounds of his pussy being eaten.

San pulled back just long enough to growl against Wooyoung's folds, "You're drenched, kitty. All this for me? You love my tongue in your tight cunt, don't you?" His teeth grazed Wooyoung's inner thigh, soothing the sting with a broad lick. "Answer me."

"Yes—" Wooyoung gasped, tears pricking at his eyes. "Yes, Sannie, yes, fuck—"

"Good." San dove back in, but this time his tongue focused on Wooyoung's clit, flicking and circling while two fingers pushed back into his dripping hole without warning. Wooyoung's hips bucked, but San's free hand slammed down on his thigh, holding him open, forcing him to take it. "Mine," he growled against him, the vibration sending sparks up Wooyoung's spine. "This pussy is mine. Say it."

"Yours—" Wooyoung sobbed.

"Again."

"Yours, Sannie, all yours, fuck —"

The shorthair’s fingers curled, finding that spot inside him that made his vision white out, and his mouth sealed around Wooyoung's clit, sucking hard. 

The sensation of being held open, of being eaten out with such feral intensity, of San’s claws dimpling his skin—it all built up in the base of his tail. His second orgasm was approaching fast, faster than the first, and it felt different. Bigger. More.

“Sannie, I’m—I’m gonna—”

San pulled back. Wooyoung’s cunt clenched around nothing, and a desperate keen tore from his throat.

“Look at me,” San commanded.

Wooyoung forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry with unshed tears. San was looking up at him from between his thighs, chin dripping, lips swollen, eyes burning with something that looked a lot like worship.

“You’re going to come on my tongue,” San said, each word deliberate. “You’re going to hold still and take it.”

“It’s yours,” Wooyoung gasped. “Take me, please—”

“Good boy.”

San’s mouth descended again, and this time there was no build-up. He sealed his lips around Wooyoung’s clit and sucked hard, fingers thrusting relentlessly once again. 

Wooyoung's orgasm crashed into him before he could warn the other cat, his scream muffled by his own hand as he came apart on San's tongue. His pussy pulsed around San’s fingers, slick gushing to coat San’s chin, and still San didn’t stop, licking and sucking and growling through every last tremor until Wooyoung was a sobbing mess beneath him.

When San finally pulled back, Wooyoung’s thighs were shaking uncontrollably, his chest heaved, and tears had spilled over, tracking down his temples and into his hair. He felt wrung out and hollowed.

San crawled up his body, leaving kisses in his wake—hip, stomach, sternum, collarbone. When he reached Wooyoung’s face, he paused, hovering just above.

“Pretty,” San said. His voice was wrecked, hoarse from use. “So pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Wooyoung couldn’t form words. His throat had gone raw, and his brain had turned to static. All he could do was reach up, trembling, and pull San down for a kiss.

The taste of himself on San’s lips was filthy and perfect. Wooyoung licked into San’s mouth, chasing it, and San let him, opening for him, purring against his tongue, letting Wooyoung claim this small piece of control.

When they broke apart, Wooyoung’s head was spinning.

“Two,” San said, nuzzling into his cheek. “That’s two.”

“Can’t—Sannie, I can’t do another—”

“Shh.” San kissed the corner of his mouth. “No more. I just wanted to see you like this. Completely undone. All for me.”

“All for you,” Wooyoung echoed. The words came out slurred. “Always for you.”

San’s purr intensified. He rolled onto his side, pulling Wooyoung with him until they were chest to chest, legs tangled, tails intertwined. His hand found Wooyoung’s nape again, that perfect pressure point, and Wooyoung melted into the touch.

They lay like that for a while. Wooyoung’s breathing slowly returned to normal, his heart rate dropping from frantic to steady. San’s purr was a constant vibration against his chest, soothing and grounding. Bruises were already blooming on his hips where San had gripped him, and his cunt felt swollen in a way that would make walking to class interesting.

“I’m going to be so sore,” he muttered.

San’s purr stuttered. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. Well, yes, but in a good way.” Wooyoung pressed closer, tucking his face into San’s neck. “The kind of sore that reminds me I’m yours. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

San’s arms tightened around him. “Maybe.”

“Possessive cat.”

“Your possessive cat.”

Wooyoung smiled against San’s skin. His possessive cat. “We still have to talk about condition two,” He said, his voice muffled.

“Communication. I remember.”

“And condition three.”

“Reciprocation.” San’s hand slid down Wooyoung’s back, tracing his spine. “You want to take care of me too.”

“I do. You’ve been doing all this—the gifts, the grooming, the—” Wooyoung gestured vaguely at his own ravaged body. “—and I haven’t done anything for you.”

“You existing is doing something for me.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“It’s true.” San nosed at Wooyoung’s hair. “You don’t have to do anything, Woo. The courtship is about me proving myself to you.”

“And what about after the courtship? When we’re—” Wooyoung hesitated. “When we’re mates. Properly. Do I just lie there and look pretty forever?”

“You’d be very good at it.”

“San.”

The shorthair sighed. His tail gave a reluctant flick. “Fine. You can reciprocate. But you have to let me do things for you too. It’s a compulsion, Wooyoungie. If I can’t take care of you, I’ll go insane.”

“I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to let me in.” Wooyoung pulled back, meeting San’s eyes. “You said I’m your person. That means we take care of each other. Right?”

San stared at him for a long moment. His ears twitched, his tail stilled, and something softened in his expression. “Right,” he said. “Together.”

“Together.” Wooyoung repeated, sealing the word with a kiss, soft and sweet and nothing like the frantic passion from earlier. 

The kiss softened, gentled, until Wooyoung was just breathing against San's mouth, their lips brushing with every inhale. His body still hummed with the aftershocks of two orgasms, but something new was stirring beneath the satisfaction, an itch his cat wanted to scratch.

His hand, still pressed flat against San's chest, drifted lower.

San's stomach tightened under his palm. The muscles jumped, a reflexive flinch that made Wooyoung's ears twitch with interest. He traced the trail of fine hair below San's navel, the skin warm and slightly damp with sweat.

"Wooyoungie," San warned, but his voice had gone rough. "You don't have to—"

"Together, remember?" Wooyoung's fingers found the waistband of San's gym shorts. The fabric was stretched taut, tented obscenely by the erection straining beneath. "Reciprocation."

"That was for later. You just came twice. You should rest."

"I don't want to rest." Wooyoung pressed his palm flat against the bulge, feeling the heat of it through the cotton. San's breath hissed through his teeth. "I want to take care of you too,” He pouted. 

"Woo—"

"Do you know what it's like, Sannie? To have your tongue inside me and all I can think about is how much I want to taste you?" Wooyoung lifted his head, meeting San's eyes. "How much I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel?"  He traced the outline of San's cock through the shorts, fascinated by the way it twitched under his touch.

San's pupils had blown wide again. His tail gave a single, sharp thump against the mattress. "You think about that?"

"I think about it constantly." Wooyoung sat up, pushing against San's chest until the shorthair rolled onto his back. The position shift put Wooyoung on top, straddling San's hips, the hard length of him pressing against the damp mess between Wooyoung's thighs. "You've been spoiling me rotten for weeks. Gifts, grooming, making me come until I can't remember my own name." He rolled his hips, just once, a slow grind that made San's claws sink into the sheets. "Let me spoil you back. Please."

"You really want this?”

"I really want this." Wooyoung leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of San's chest. "I want to make you feel good. I want to hear the sounds you make. I want—" Another kiss, lower this time, just above his navel. "—to taste you. All of you. Every inch."

San's resolve crumbled. Wooyoung felt it in the way his body relaxed, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders, his hands coming up to rest on Wooyoung's hips. "Okay," he breathed. "Okay, Youngie. Show me."

The permission sent a thrill down Wooyoung's spine. His tail curled with satisfaction, and a purr started building in his chest—not the deep, rumbling purr of submission, but something lighter. The purr of a cat who'd just been given exactly what he wanted.

He slid down San's body, pressing kisses as he went. Sternum, ribs, the dip of his waist. San's skin tasted like salt and clove, the familiar scent of his body wash mixed with something muskier. Wooyoung's mouth watered.

When he reached San's hips, he paused. Hooked his fingers into the waistband of the gym shorts and looked up through his lashes.

San was watching him. Of course San was watching him—he never looked away, never missed a single thing Wooyoung did. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and his hands had moved from Wooyoung's hips to the sheets, claws pricking the fabric.

"You can touch me," Wooyoung said, tugging the shorts down. San lifted his hips to help, and the fabric slid away, taking the boxers with it. "You don't have to hold back."

"If I touch you right now, I'll come before you even start."

The confession made Wooyoung's purr stutter. He's that worked up. Because of me; because of what we just did. The thought was heady, intoxicating. 

San's cock was—well. Wooyoung had seen it before, felt it inside him, but he'd never had the chance to just look. It curved slightly toward his stomach, thick enough for Wooyoung to need more prep than he’s used to. The tip was flushed, glistening with a bead of pre-cum. "Pretty," Wooyoung murmured, echoing San's earlier words. "You're so pretty, Sannie."

San's hips twitched. "You can't just—" His voice broke as Wooyoung's breath ghosted over the sensitive head. "—say things like that."

"Why not? You say them to me all the time." Wooyoung pressed a kiss to the inside of San's thigh, nuzzling into the coarse hair there. His scent was stronger here, muskier, and Wooyoung's cat purred in approval. Mate smells good. Mate needs us.

"Because I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you," San managed, his voice strained.

"And now I'm taking care of you." Wooyoung's tongue darted out, tracing the vein that ran along the underside of San's cock. The taste was clean skin and salt and something uniquely San. "That's how this works."

San's response was swallowed by a groan as Wooyoung's mouth closed around the tip.

The first taste was always the most intense. Wooyoung's eyes fluttered shut, his purr kicking up in volume as he savored the weight of San on his tongue. He took his time, licking and sucking at just the head, his hand wrapped around the base to steady himself.

"Woo—" San's voice cracked. "Wooyoungie, fuck—"

The curse sent a bolt of satisfaction straight to Wooyoung's core. He sunk down further this time. The stretch of his jaw was familiar, the weight of San on his tongue grounding. He set a slow rhythm, bobbing his head in time with his purr, letting the vibration travel through his lips and down San's length.

San's reaction was immediate. His hips bucked, just once, before he caught himself and forced them still, hands fisted in the sheets.

Wooyoung took him deeper, until the tip nudged the back of his throat, and swallowed.

The sound San made was almost a howl. His hand flew to Wooyoung's hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, but he didn't pull or push. Just held on, like Wooyoung was the only solid thing he could find. 

Wooyoung hummed in approval. His tail swished behind him, slow and satisfied, and he set about his task with single-minded focus. Every stroke of his tongue, every hollow of his cheeks, every purring hum was designed to pull San apart. He wanted to see the shorthair come undone. He wanted to be the one who did it.

His cat was preening, practically glowing with pride. Good mate. Making mate feel good. Mate is happy.

The position wasn't quite right, though. Wooyoung's neck was starting to ache from the angle, and he couldn't get as deep as he wanted. He pulled off again, ignoring San's desperate sound of protest, and shifted, sliding off the bed.

"Where are you going—"

"Shh." Wooyoung pressed a finger to San's lips. "Just stay there."

He retrieved the pillow that had been knocked to the floor earlier, dropping it at the foot of the bed. Then he knelt on it, settling between San's legs, his hands resting on the shorthair's thighs.

The new position was perfect. Wooyoung on his knees, looking up at San with wide eyes, his tail curling lazily behind him. The light caught the sheen of sweat on San's skin, highlighting the desperate need in his expression.

"Fuck," San breathed, understanding dawning. "Wooyoungie."

"Like what you see?" Wooyoung tilted his head, ears swiveling forward. He knew what he looked like right now—kneeling, eager, still flushed from his own orgasms. The picture of someone ready to serve his mate.

"You're going to kill me."

"Not yet." Wooyoung pressed a kiss to San's hipbone. "I’m not finished with you."

He leaned in, nuzzling against the base of San's cock. The scent here was strongest, and Wooyoung's cat demanded he mark himself with it. His cheek rubbed against the shaft, his jaw, his throat—scent-marking in reverse, claiming San as his own even as he submitted.

"Wha’re you doing?" San's voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper.

"Mine," Wooyoung babbled against San's skin. "You're mine."

San's hands found Wooyoung’s ears, massaging the soft fur. "I've always been yours," he said, and the honesty in his voice made Wooyoung's heart clench. "Since the day we met.”

Wooyoung looked up, chin resting on San's hip. "Then let me take care of what's mine."

He didn't wait for a response. His mouth found San's cock again, and this time he didn't hold back.

The rhythm he set was relentless. Bobbing, sucking, pulling back to lick at the head before sinking down again. His hand worked what he couldn't fit in his mouth, twisting on the upstroke, and his purr never stopped—a constant, vibrating hum that drove San steadily toward the edge.

San's composure crumbled. His hips rocked up in tiny, uncontrolled thrusts, still trying not to push too deep. His hand in Wooyoung's hair tightened and released, tightened and released, like he couldn't decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. His breaths came in ragged gasps, punctuated by broken moans that went straight to Wooyoung's already-sensitive cunt.

"That's it," Wooyoung murmured, pulling off just long enough to speak. His lips were swollen, shiny with spit and precome. "Let go, Sannie. I've got you. I want to taste you."

"Woo—" San's warning was cut off by a groan as Wooyoung took him deep again, nose pressed to the thatch of hair at the base. His throat worked around the intrusion, swallowing reflexively, and San's hips jerked.

The musky taste of him filled Wooyoung's mouth. His cat was purring so hard his whole body vibrated with it, and he knew San could feel it, could feel how happy Wooyoung was to be doing this.

"Close," San gasped. "Youngie, I'm close, you should—"

Wooyoung doubled down. His hand slid from San's thigh to cup his balls, rolling them gently, and his mouth worked faster, tongue pressing against the sensitive spot just beneath the head with every stroke.

He wasn't going to pull away. He wanted this, wanted San to come apart in his mouth, wanted to swallow every drop, wanted to be marked from the inside out.

San's hand tightened in his hair. "Please—"

The word broke something in Wooyoung. He pulled back just enough to meet San's eyes, his lips still wrapped around the head, and nodded. Come for me. Let me have it.

San's orgasm hit with a force that bowed his back off the mattress. His hand fisted in Wooyoung's hair, and a sound tore from his throat—half growl, half sob, entirely wrecked. Wooyoung swallowed, working him through it, drawing out every pulse until San collapsed against the bed. He kept swallowing, holding back from choking. 

Only then did Wooyoung pull off, licking his lips. The taste lingered—bitter, salty, undeniably San. 

"Holy shit," San breathed. His arm was thrown over his eyes, chest heaving. "Holy shit, Youngie."

Wooyoung crawled up the bed, settling back into San’s lap. His head found its usual spot on San's shoulder, and his tail curled on top of San's thigh. 

"You're incredible. You know that?" His voice was hoarse, wrecked in the best way. His arm moved, and then he was pulling Wooyoung closer, tucking him against his chest. 

"I've been told." Wooyoung's smile pressed against San's skin. "Mostly by you."

"Because it's true." San's hand found Wooyoung's chin, tilting his face up. His eyes were still hazy with pleasure, but there was something softer beneath it. Something that looked a lot like love. "Thank you."

"For the blowjob?"

"For all of it." San's thumb traced Wooyoung's lower lip. "For letting me court you, for accepting the earring. For—" He paused, swallowing. "For being my person."

Wooyoung's eyes burned. "Sannie."

"I mean it. I know I'm intense, and I know the courtship thing is weird, and I know I should've told you sooner instead of just leaving rocks on your nightstand like some kind of riddle. But you—" His voice cracked. "You didn't run. You didn't even flinch. You just looked at me and said okay."

"What else was I supposed to say?" Wooyoung reached up, cupping San's cheek. The shorthair leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. "You're it for me, San. I was just too scared to admit it."

"Scared of what?"

"That it wouldn't last. That you'd wake up one day and realize I'm too much—too loud, too needy, too bratty." Wooyoung's laugh was watery. "Turns out you're just as crazy as I am. We're both disasters."

"We're matching disasters." San pressed a kiss to Wooyoung's forehead. “The best kind."

They lay there for a while, tangled together in the mess of sheets. Wooyoung's body was starting to register the various aches—the pleasant sting of San's teeth on his neck, the soreness between his thighs, the tenderness of his knees from kneeling on the floor. But none of it mattered. Not when San was holding him like this, purring steadily. 

"We should clean up," Wooyoung murmured, not moving.

"Eventually."

"Yeosang will be back in the morning."

"Yeosang can knock."

"San."

The shorthair sighed, but his arms tightened around Wooyoung. "Five more minutes."

Wooyoung didn't argue. He wasn't ready to move either. His cat was too content, too warm, too wrapped up in the scent of them together to consider leaving this bed. They smelled like each other now—cinnamon and clove, honey and something floral. The scent of mates.

He closed his eyes, letting San's purr wash over him, and for the first time in weeks, his mind was quiet. No confusion, no anxiety about what they were to each other, no fear of messing things up.

Just San. Just this. Just them.

"Hey," Wooyoung murmured, half-asleep already. "Does this mean I get to put the earring in?"

San's purr stuttered. "You want to wear it?"

"It's beautiful. And it was your grandmother's, and—" He yawned, jaw cracking. "And it means something, doesn't it? That's why you gave it to me."

"Yeah." San's voice was thick. "Yeah, it means something."

"Then I want to wear it." Wooyoung's tail gave a sleepy swish. "Tomorrow. You can help me put it in."

"Okay."

"And you have to tell me more about her. Your grandmother. What she was like."

"Okay."

"And we should probably tell Yeosang and the others about us, before they figure it out on their own and get mad."

A pause. "Yeosang already knows."

Wooyoung's eyes flew open. "What?"

"He's the one who told me you liked the honey butter chips." San had the decency to look sheepish. "And the boba. And—"

"How long has Yeosang been in on this?"

"Since the beginning?"

Wooyoung's screech echoed through the dorm room. "San! I'm going to kill him! He's been watching me freak out all week and didn't say anything?!"

"He wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out."

"That back-stabbing—" Wooyoung was already scrambling out of bed, grabbing the first article of clothing he could find (San's shirt, which was large enough to cover his…important parts) and stalking toward the door. "I'm going to Mingi's. I'm going to strangle him."

"Wooyoungie, it's already late—"

"I don't care!"

San caught him before he reached the door, arms wrapping around his waist and hauling him back. Wooyoung squawked, tail lashing, but San just held him tighter. "You can strangle him tomorrow," he said, laughing. "After we've slept. And showered. And maybe eaten breakfast."

"Fine." Wooyoung went limp in San's arms, letting himself be carried back to bed. "But I'm not sharing my snacks with him ever again.”

"Fair."

San deposited him on the mattress, and Wooyoung immediately burrowed under the covers, still grumbling about traitorous roommates. San's laugh was low, and when he slid into bed beside him a moment later, dry cloth in hand, the shorthair tapped his leg, humming at him to lift his hips. Wooyoung complied, letting San clean the mess from between his thighs. The cloth was cool against his sensitive skin, and San's touch was gentle.

By the time San finished, Wooyoung was barely conscious. The events of the night—the gifts, the confessions, the sex, the love—had caught up with him all at once, leaving him boneless and drowsy. He heard San toss the cloth toward the hamper, felt the bed dip as San settled beside him, and then there were arms around him again, pulling him close.

"Sleep," San murmured. "I've got you."

Wooyoung's last conscious thought was of the earring. The crescent moon, still sitting on his desk where San had left it. Tomorrow he'd put it in, and it would catch the light, and everyone would know. Everyone would see.

Claimed, his cat purred. Mated. Loved.

He fell asleep smiling.

Notes:

so that was the second part, and i hoped you guys enjoyed! let me know any questions, comments, concerns you have, i will gladly talk!

also

i am sooooo ready for golden hour pt.5 to come out!!! >.< it's been motivating me to write lol

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of San and Wooyoung's Kitty Adventures🐈🐈‍⬛