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What begins as trust turns into control, and Wooyoung finds himself wanting to be exactly where San puts him.
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San doesn’t move him.
He just looks down at him like this – Wooyoung on the rug between his knees, face resting against San’s thigh, cheek pressed into warm fabric. His head tilts back from there, eyes lifting to meet San’s, wide and unfocused, breath still uneven from the kiss he was pulled away from.
San’s thumb traces Wooyoung’s cheek. Then his jaw. Slowly.
He tilts his face a little higher, setting the angle, making sure Wooyoung has nowhere else to look.
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