Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

San is supposed to be better than this. 

He’s supposed to be talented, the cream-of-the-crop, a hero (at least that’s what the news calls him). Right now, however, he’s feeling a lot less like a hero and a lot more like a fucking idiot. 

The dingy mattress beneath him is hard and damp, much like the rest of the room with its muggy stone floors and walls. There’s a tiny window on one side of the room, much too small for San to fit through, but he figured out very quickly that it wouldn’t really matter much even if he could. Below the window is a sharp drop several feet down, and at the bottom there is nothing but jagged rocks and unforgiving waves crashing against them. It’s moments like these that San really wishes he’d been born with wings or the ability to fly like some of his lucky classmates at the Academy . 

The thick smell of salt and brine is making San nauseous, or maybe it’s just the effects of whatever unknown drug he’d been given—a suppressant, perhaps. Whatever it is, he’s pathetically useless in his current state and all he can do is pace around the room, limited to just a few feet and ultimately stopped by the chain around his ankle, or lie down on the world’s toughest yet somehow wettest mattress. He tries to replay the events leading up to his capture in his head, but it’s hazy and the memories are broken into blurry fragments. He remembers the tough day leading up to it, his fight against the bane of his existence—what you might call an arch nemesis —Yunho. He remembers being exhausted in the aftermath, dragging himself through one final patrol to make sure that none of Yunho’s shadow figures remained. Then he remembers a group of people confronting him, claiming to be part of some elite group he’d never heard of. 

San had sighed and told them to get lost, but they didn’t seem to care. Instead, they jumped him. It was a fight that San should have won easily. He should have wiped the floor with them, but in his exhaustion he was barely able to control his powers, his illusions going haywire. In his desperate attempt to control himself, he hadn’t noticed one of the men jumping behind him. And it was already too late before San even realised that there was a syringe sticking out of his neck. He’d lost consciousness within seconds, and the next thing he knew he was here. 

He vaguely recalls coming in and out of consciousness, catching bits and pieces of his captors’ conversations. 

“What are we going to do now?” 

“Uh, what was the plan again?”

“You idiot! How could you forget?”

“Well, could you remind me then? Fuck.” 

“We, uh. You know. Grab him and… uh…”

“Hey, do you think we could try to put him up for ransom?” 

“What? No, the boss—” 

The worst part isn’t that he’s been kidnapped. It’s happened before, and he’s gotten out of it before. No, the worst part is that his captors are idiots. Bumbling fools who got lucky and had no better plan than ‘get him!’ For shits and giggles? It’s beyond him, really. 

He’s not even sure he’s ever seen these thugs before. They’d been dressed in comically over-the-top ninja gear, waving katanas and wakizashi around haphazardly, with a logo of a crow stitched onto their chests. They’re clearly not a significant threat to anyone, except perhaps the unsuspecting citizen (and apparently San), but they’ve clearly got some money behind them if they have access to what seems to be an abandoned cliffside prison. In San’s experience, petty criminals like this tend to be rich boys with too much money and time on their hands, and never learned to channel emotions in a healthy way. 

San feels like he lies there for hours. He knows he should be trying harder to get out of here, but with the drugs still coursing through his system and dampening his powers, and the sheer drop out the window and lack of wings on his back, he’s not jumping to make a run for it. No, he’ll let the drugs work their way through his system before he makes his escape. 

So instead, he just lies there. He thinks about the fight that led him here again—really, it’s Yunho’s fault he’s even here in the first place. If Yunho hadn’t tried to rob a bank again, then San wouldn’t have had to drop everything to go and stop him. And then San wouldn’t have been so exhausted and wouldn’t have had to clean up the mess that Yunho had made. And then he wouldn’t be here. 

San makes a face, top lip curling back in annoyance. He’s had years of having to deal with Yunho; he’s notoriously sneaky, extraordinarily cunning, and an annoyingly skilled fighter. And somehow, he’s always causing trouble around San—robbing museums and banks that always happen to be a block or two away from San, or crashing public events with politicians and causing chaos wherever he goes. 

It’s like he’s following San, even though San knows that’s crazy. He’s pretty sure Yunho just gets off on fucking with him, but then again San is sure that Yunho just causes trouble everywhere and San is always jumping in to deal with him, so maybe it just feels like Yunho is following him. And San’s a busy guy; he’s got the whole city to keep safe, so maybe it’s really San that’s following Yunho around. 

The worst part about Yunho is just how fucking cocky he is. Always smirking at San, quipping on how slow he is or how easy it is to see through his illusions, through his emotions. But San has to keep it cool—he’s a hero after all, and there are kids who look up to him. What kind of hero would he be if he resorted to name calling and insult-throwing? 

The air shimmers around him, his skin tingling as the energy within him waxes and wanes. He sees the outline of a man, lean and tall, but the image is fuzzy and distorted. The waves of energy within him rise and he tries to pull it back, the image fading slightly as he desperately claws at his powers. But with how exhausted he is and with the drugs still working their way through him, he’s unable to get a tight enough grasp on them and his control slips. 

The image in front of him materialises; at first, he sees long legs clad in black pants, tall leather boots, and several utility bags and gun holsters strapped to the thighs. As the image solidifies, the figure’s torso comes into view, dressed in a tight black mock turtleneck covered by a long black leather jacket with a cocked collar. Broad shoulders stretch wide, and when San’s eyes follow the column of a slender and tall neck up, his eyes land on the very face that seems to follow him around everywhere. 

Even in a prison cell, San can’t escape Yunho’s presence. He watches, a little dazed, as the corner of Yunho’s mouth cocks to the side, a devious smirk plastered on his foolish and utterly annoying face. Yunho is moving, body as fluid as water, and it’s almost like he’s dancing to music only he can hear. He leans back, then to the side, dodging attacks that San can’t see. But then the vision expands and San is no longer in a dingy prison cell but a city street, the street lamps flickering as waves of energy burst from San. He sees himself then, lunging at Yunho, but Yunho is a frustratingly slippery fighter and he dodges each punch and kick with ease. 

“You’ll never hit me swinging punches like that,” Yunho’s voice echoes. 

“Stop dodging and start fighting me, coward,” San spits back. 

“But it’s so much fun watching you try to hit me so desperately,” Yunho smirks. 

San groans, pressing his fingers into his temples. “Even in my own head you won’t shut up,” he mumbles to himself. 

The vision fades, the city street blurring until it snaps back into focus, though it’s different this time around. It’s another vision, and this time Yunho has a canvas sack tucked under one arm, the other in his pocket as he hops around the street and San chases after him. San weaves illusions in an attempt to disorient Yunho, the ground beneath him turning to rubble until a chasm is opening up. But Yunho leaps away and miraculously lands on the tiny windowsill of a nearby window. San casts another illusion, this time a tidal wave crashing through the city street, seemingly devouring everything in its wake. But Yunho doesn’t seem to pay it any mind, letting the waves consume him. Then he’s emerging from the wave faster than San can follow, and San is thrown back as Yunho hits him square in the gut. San crashes into the wall behind him, with only a moment to recover before Yunho is on him, pressing him up against the wall with his forearm to San’s jugular. 

“You never listen, do you? Those illusions don’t work on me. Get some better tricks, weaver.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

Yunho grins. “You wound me,” he feigns hurt, tilting his head slightly. 

“Return that diamond,” San orders. 

“Now why would I do that, kitten?” 

San’s eyes widen. “Kitten?” he sputters. San kicks hard, aiming for Yunho’s crotch, but Yunho just dances away, never losing that playful grin. San lunges again, moving faster now, ducking down to swipe at Yunho’s legs. It’s enough to throw him off balance and he falls to his back, his smile slipping. In his momentary confusion, San takes the opportunity to swipe the canvas sack from him. It’s surprisingly heavy and San keeps it close to his body as he readies himself for Yunho’s retaliation. 

But it never comes. Yunho takes a breath, then quickly jumps to his feet. On the ground, dark shadows swell around him, tendrils lifting off of the pavement and wrapping around his legs, spiralling up and up until Yunho’s body is almost entirely encased in black. Then shadowy wings sprout from his back, the black feathers dark as night, and he pushes off the ground as the wings start to flap around him. 

“Take care of that until I come back for it, kitten. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to it in the meantime.” 

San growls. “You won’t get it next time. And stop calling me kitten!” 

The corner of Yunho’s mouth pulls up into a lazy smirk. “Until next time, kitten.” And then he’s lifting off into the sky as San stands on the street watching in disbelief. 

The vision fades then, but they don’t stop there. San isn’t sure how long it goes on for, but his countless fights against Yunho play like a movie. It’s as if he’s lost the remote, forced to watch dumb reruns of a show he hates. San tries again to reel in his powers, but the frustration and exhaustion he feels are causing countless misfires and there’s seemingly no end to his illusions. So he’s stuck watching himself and Yunho battle endlessly. 

The two of them are generally on equal footing when it comes to power. Half the time, San’s got the upper hand. The other half, it seems like Yunho does. But San is always able to get out (though not always unscathed). Frustratingly, this also means that Yunho is also somehow always able to get out with most of his limbs intact. San’s never dealt with a more annoying person in his life before. 

At some point, he stops projecting past fights. Instead, he just sees Yunho standing there, that lazy smirk plastered on his face like always. He’s looking directly at San, not just an illusion of San, and he steps forward, reaching out his hand. “Kitten,” Yunho whispers, his voice low but still tinged with his usual playfulness. Then the illusion shifts again, this time showing Yunho closer and sitting in a chair in front of San, his legs crossed. San’s eyes slide down to the hand resting on Yunho’s knee; he’s wearing his usual silver finger coverings on his index and middle finger, and a silver ring sweeping out into a long hook extending just past the edge of his hand. The coverings seem to elongate his slender fingers, and San finds his gaze stuck on the way that the veins in the back of Yunho’s hand seem to pulse. 

“Like what you see, kitten?”

San blinks, recoiling. When he looks up, Yunho is looking at him with the kind of mischievous grin that would sweep anyone off their feet. Not San, of course. Yunho might be charming, and so handsome that it’s frankly unfair, but San sees past that. He sees the thief, the manipulator, the villain that Yunho is. He hadn’t even noticed Yunho was devilishly handsome until someone pointed it out to him. So no, San isn’t staring at Yunho’s hands because he likes what he sees. And his heart definitely doesn’t race when Yunho’s pushing him up against a wall, their faces so close that San can almost taste the hint of mint in Yunho’s breath. And he definitely doesn’t think about Yunho, ever. 

These illusions now are just a manifestation of his shame, mocking him for getting caught by the dumbest villains ever. And it just so happens that Yunho is the king of dumb villains, so San’s punishment for his hubris is unfortunately to endure Yunho’s endless mocking. It’s what he deserves, right? 

“I need to get some fucking sleep,” San groans. He lowers himself to the bed, looking up at the ceiling. When his illusions refuse to dissipate and he hears Yunho’s voice call his name, he throws his arm over his eyes to block out his vision. 

Eventually, the exhaustion starts to win, and San slips into a restless sleep. His system is alert enough to be ready for intruders (you’ve got to sleep with one eye open when you’re locked up like this, after all) but at the very least the illusions have ceased and he can finally be free of the pest that never seems to get the hint to just leave him alone. 

///

When San wakes next, it’s to the sound of muffled, incoherent yelling. Still sluggish, he blinks slowly as his consciousness comes back to him. He’s not sure exactly how long he’d slept for, but when he peers out the window he sees it’s dusk now, the blue of the sky bleeding into a deep red, followed by the deep blue of the night. 

He pushes himself up to his feet and creeps towards the door, tugging on the shackles around his ankle as he leans forward to reach it. He presses his ear against the cool metal, straining to listen, but the commotion is distant enough that he can hardly hear anything. He tests his powers, the energy within him humming, but still he feels them waver. He tuts in frustration, giving the door a kick for good measure. 

San feels a chill run down his spine, a sudden feeling of dread washing over him. He steps back from the door, every muscle in his body tensing as he prepares for whatever might be approaching. His body might be sluggish from the remaining drugs in his system, and his powers are unreliable at best right now, but he won’t be caught off guard. He’ll make his escape through sheer force if he has to. 

He hears the metallic clinking of a lock mechanism, and he backs up against the wall, the shackles around his ankle lying slack on the stone floor. He waits with bated breath as the lock on the other side of the door makes a crunching sound, before the door is swinging open forcefully. 

The door bangs against the stone wall next to it and a figure bursts through the opening, the soles of their black leather boots landing heavy on the stone floor. San’s eyes travel up from a familiar pair of long legs to broad shoulders and an even more familiar face. 

For a moment, San wonders if his illusions are going haywire again. They must be, because why else would Yunho be standing in front of him right now? But this Yunho is different; he’s missing that signature smirk of his, replaced with lips pressed into a hard line and a furrow between his brows. He almost looks angry, though San is pretty sure he’s never seen Yunho look anything but annoyingly smug before. Upon closer inspection, San notices the blood splattered across Yunho’s cheek and staining his black coat, mixed with what appears to be dust sticking to his clothes. 

“Yunho?” San mutters in disbelief.

Yunho marches into the room, stopping less than a foot in front of San. San recoils, leaning back, but he’s unable to go much further when the back of his head makes contact with the wall. The energy within San pulses, vibrating as Yunho leans in closer, but he realises that his powers are contained. This is no illusion. 

San is now convinced that Yunho must be following him around on purpose. If he isn’t, then how can he be here right now? Why would he be here? 

“Seriously? This is how you get caught?” Yunho says sternly, the hint of a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Out of the corner of San’s eye, he notices movement, Yunho’s shadow shifting. He feels the tickle of it as it wraps around his leg, the feeling of it causing goosebumps to raise along his arms. “You couldn’t break out of a simple chain like this?” Yunho asks, ignoring San’s question. 

The shackles come undone, the lock crushed by the physical manifestation of  Yunho’s shadow. San’s lip curls back. “I was working on it, alright?” San grumbles, kicking the metal cuff off of his ankle. “Wait, you didn’t answer me. Why are you here?”

Yunho grabs San by the elbow, his grip crushing. “I’m coming to your rescue, kitten. ”

“Don’t call me that,” San says, tugging his arm away. Yunho’s grip persists, squeezing even tighter, and San gives him a bewildered look. “I don’t need you to rescue me. You’re supposed to want to fight me! We’re enemies.”

“Looks like you do need me to rescue you,” Yunho says, tilting his head to the side a little. “Now, shut up and get moving.” 

Before San can retort, Yunho yanks him out of the cell and into the hallway. San stumbles after him, his mind hardly able to keep up with the situation at hand. At the end of the hallway, a group of men dressed in the same ridiculous ninja outfits are barrelling towards them. “You can still fight, can’t you? Or are you too weak to do even that?” Yunho asks. 

San considers throttling him, but makes the conscious effort not to. There’s a gang of gun-waving lunatics running at them, and San frankly doesn’t have the time for this. “Of course I can fight. Maybe worry about your own skin.” 

He thinks he hears a breathy chuckle from Yunho, but he’s preoccupied by a gunshot whizzing past him. San just about dodges, before he plants his feet into the ground and musters up his powers. He fights against the suppressants in his system, filtering through the haze of emotions in his muddled brain until he settles on the image of an eerily dark street, a red moon looming over. He thinks of the uneasiness that comes with feeling like you’re being watched, or perhaps followed, and the fear of the unknown that might be lurking in the darkness. 

The illusion casts, like it’s bleeding from the soles of the San’s feet, encroaching on every inch of light until it’s nearly pitch black. San feels rather than sees Yunho moving, his presence dipping in and out of focus as he takes full advantage of the darkness. It’s something San has seen him do many times before, and it’s as if Yunho himself has become a shadow. 

“I can’t see anything!” a voice exclaims.

“Where— where am I?” another says. 

San hears a guttural scream as Yunho finds his target. Then another one. Several gunshots ring out, flashing in the darkness, but they’re nothing but desperate attempts to catch Yunho. In the darkness like this, however, Yunho is virtually unstoppable. 

A yell to San’s right is his only warning before he’s being tackled. San just barely dodges, but his illusion wanes slightly from the loss of concentration, and the lights above start to peek through the darkness. San whirls around, kicking high and aiming for his assailant’s head. He misses him by only centimetres, and San quickly blocks a punch to the face. He retaliates, fist connecting with his assailant’s jaw with a loud crack.  

San has no time to rest. Another thug jumps him from behind and San grunts as he’s nearly taken to the floor. He ducks low and kicks back against the thug’s shin, causing him to soar over San’s body and crumple to the floor in front of him. San winces at the strain exerted by keeping up an illusion this strong for so long, and in such a large area. An illusion like this usually would have caused only a slight sweat, but with his exhaustion and the suppressants, he feels like he’s trying to lift the moon. 

His first assailant has recovered now, and he’s rushing San down—

“Need some help?” 

San groans internally. Yunho materialises from the shadows, giving the first assailant a painful punch to the gut before he can reach San. Yunho whirls, delivering a roundhouse kick straight to the assailant’s temple. His strength is overwhelming, sending the assailant all the way down the hall and crashing against the stone wall at the end of it. 

Yunho deals with the other thug in much the same manner, and San hears the nauseating crunch of bone as Yunho uses a tendril of shadow to strangle the man. 

“I thought you would have been better at hand-to-hand combat by now,” Yunho says, his tone so effortless that you’d think he was just taking a stroll in a meadow right now. 

“God, you just love hearing your own voice, don’t you?” San groans, voice a little hoarse. San breaks the illusion and he inhales, his lungs no longer feeling like they’re being restricted in a vice. 

“I have been told I’ve got a nice voice,” Yunho says. 

San narrows his eyes. “Well, whoever told you that was lying to your face.”

Yunho grins a little, that wild look in his eyes he’d had when he first broke into San’s cell gone completely, replaced now by his usual mischievousness. San wipes away the sweat collecting at his brow, his breath hastening just slightly. 

“Too tired to go on, kitten?”

“Shut the fuck up. And stop calling me that,” San spits, straightening. 

“What would the children of the world think when they hear just how crass you can be?” 

San rolls his eyes and chooses not to answer Yunho, instead starting toward the end of the hall where there’s a spiral staircase leading up further, or down towards the ground floor. He hears Yunho’s boots hit the ground as he follows, and he can only imagine the smug grin on his face right now. 

When San reaches the stairs, he starts to descend, but he’s stopped by Yunho’s fingers around his elbow. San turns to look back at him, raising an eyebrow. “The ground floor is littered with thugs who are advancing on us as we speak. Unless you think you can handle a hundred of them, I’ve got a better plan.”

San gives him a curious look. Just how organised are these criminals? Before, he’d thought it was just a band of petty thieves considering how unorganised they seemed to be, but with a castle this size and hundreds of men at their disposal, perhaps San had underestimated them. But whoever these guys are, San can’t say he’s eager to go up against a hundred of them in this state.

“And your genius plan is?” 

“You’ll see,” Yunho says, winking. Then he’s pulling San again, turning him around to lead him up the staircase. 

“We’re going up. How is that any better than going down?” San asks. “We’ll just get boxed in at the top.” 

“For someone whose specialty is weaving illusions, you’ve got no imagination.”

“It’s not about imagination, it’s about my emotions—” San cuts himself off, realising that this is not the time for that. “Fuck, can you just answer a simple question for once?” 

Yunho glances back at him, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “And give you the satisfaction? Never.” 

As they near the top of the stairwell, San hears men talking hurriedly as their boots thunder against the stone steps. Standing behind Yunho, San can’t see much in front of him, but when Yunho mutters, “Get ready,” he inhales and focuses. 

Fighting in a tight stairwell like this is less than ideal, but somehow they’re able to manage. And not just manage but dominate. San casts illusions, some casting darkness over the stairwell, some causing distractions with blinking lights or fog swirling. Yunho strikes with his shadows and his dagger, cutting down droves of men with little effort. 

It’s almost like their powers complement one another’s. It’s easy, much easier than San fighting on his own, and Yunho seems to know exactly when and how to strike, taking every advantage possible from San’s illusions. It’s not that San can’t handle fights like these on his own, because he can. He’s fought hordes of villains and alien invasions, his power unique and suited to both individual and large scale fights, but it’s never been quite as effortless as this. Like it’s as easy as breathing. 

San blames it all on the drugs. He’s not usually this pathetically weak, after all, and these suppressants have taken a real toll on him. Every hero has their off days, right? 

When they reach the top of the stairwell, they emerge onto the rooftop of a tall turret. There’s a lone watchman at the top of the tower, and Yunho takes him out easily. San walks to the edge, peering down. On one side, there’s a courtyard filled with men running back and forth, yelling orders at each other—no doubt as a result of Yunho’s ‘rescue’ mission. On the other side of the tower is a sheer drop to the waves and jagged rocks below, just as San had seen outside the tiny window of his cell. 

He turns to question Yunho’s plan once more, but before he can open his mouth and say anything, he feels himself being lifted off the ground. San sputters as he’s turned horizontal, and he feels strong arms slide under him. “What the fuck—” 

“You’ll want to hold on tight,” Yunho says. San feels a wave of energy as black wings unfurl from Yunho’s back and San gasps when Yunho leaps off the edge of the tower, his wings soaring in the wind. 

San isn’t afraid of heights. Yeah, he can’t fly, but he’s not afraid. So when he subconsciously wraps his arms around Yunho’s neck, fingers clutching at the fabric of Yunho’s jacket, it’s simply because he’d die if he fell now and this just gives him a slightly better chance of surviving. Nothing more.

Wind whips against San’s face and he winces at the bite of it. He glances down at the choppy waves below, gulping when he sees just how sure his death would be were he to fall. He clutches Yunho’s jacket just a little tighter, turning his gaze towards Yunho’s wings. 

Part of him is fascinated by Yunho’s wings. This high up in the sky, they almost seem to shimmer in the moonlight as night falls over the horizon. He’s seen Yunho fly before, but he realises he’s only ever seen it in the daytime; his wings have always been eerily beautiful, much to San’s chagrin, but in the nighttime they are indescribable. 

“Like what you see?” Yunho asks. 

San flinches, eyes flicking up to see Yunho cocking his eyebrow upward. The words conjure images of long, elegant fingers, and San flushes. It had been one thing to hear an illusionary Yunho say those words to him— teasing him—but in real life, it’s even more mortifying. 

“What? N—no,” San stammers. “I’m just wondering how these wings can hold up something as big as your ego.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, they are getting tired. What with my big ego and all. Maybe I should drop some weight?” 

Yunho starts to lower his arms, relaxing them slightly, and San’s breath hitches in panic. He wraps his arms tighter around Yunho’s neck, pulling his face close to Yunho’s chest as he holds on for dear life. Then he hears Yunho chuckle, hearty and filled with amusement, before his arms tighten around San’s body and he almost seems to hold him just a little closer. .

San had been slightly flushed before, but now he’s as red as a tomato. “I hate you so much,” he hisses. 

“You’re saying that to someone who saved you?”

San glares up at Yunho. “I didn’t ask you to save me. I had it handled.”

“Sitting helplessly in a cell is ‘having it handled?’” he says. 

“I wasn’t going to stay like that.”

Yunho raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

San tuts in annoyance. “Can you just drop me off on land? The shore’s right there.” 

“I can’t just abandon a helpless kitten,” Yunho says and San smacks his chest with one hand. 

“What did I say about calling me that—”

“And plus, I’ve got a better place for you. We’ll get those drugs out of your system,” Yunho says, ignoring his protests. 

“How’d you know I’ve been drugged?”

“You’re nowhere near as powerful as you usually are, and if you had even a tenth of your strength, you would have been out of that cell in less than an hour.” 

San deflates. Somehow, having Yunho actually acknowledge his strength for once causes a weird feeling in his chest, one he’s never felt before. It’s warm, despite the chill of the night air, and it’s almost as if his heart is swelling within him, pressing against his lungs and his ribcage. 

He doesn’t respond to Yunho, instead opting to let his forehead fall against Yunho’s surprisingly sturdy chest. And for once, Yunho shuts up, his focus kept forward on the night sky ahead of them as San tries to ignore the slight race in his pulse.

San loses track of time, even dozing off for a few minutes, and he only comes to once he feels Yunho land softly on the ground. San lifts his head to scan their surroundings, finding himself in a dense forest. Ahead of them is a small log cabin, tucked behind several pine trees. 

“Where are we?” San asks as Yunho approaches the cabin. 

Yunho lowers San to his feet just outside of the door before reaching towards the padlock hanging from the doorknob. He turns it over, pressing his thumb to a small screen in the back of it. San hears a mechanical whir and then the lock disengages, allowing Yunho to push the door open. 

San hesitates before he steps over the threshold. What is he even doing right now? He should be running, or maybe he should be fighting. He’d catch Yunho off guard now, his back turned to San, and maybe San could end their feud once and for all. 

But as much as he should want to do that, he falters. He’s still got suppressants in his system, and he hasn’t eaten in days. It would just be foolish to attack Yunho now, and San’s not a fool. 

He steps into the cabin, closing the door behind him. It’s dark, and he watches as Yunho fishes for a lighter in one of his utility bags, reaching over to light an oil lamp sitting on a table. A warm glow washes over the room and San examines his surroundings; the cabin is small, with a loveseat facing a fireplace on one side of the room, a small kitchen on the other side of the room, and a simple bed tucked into the corner. 

“What is this place?” San asks, watching as Yunho removes his jacket and several of his utility belts and gun holsters, tossing them onto the small dining table near the kitchen. San’s gaze lingers on the curve of Yunho’s neck, eyes sliding down to watch the small ripple of muscle in Yunho’s back as he rolls his shoulders back, wings now gone completely. 

“A safe house. One of many,” Yunho answers. 

“Of course you’d have safehouses,” San mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“You don’t?” 

“I don’t need safehouses. I don’t need to hide.” 

Yunho shrugs. “Maybe not, but it’s useful in situations like this, is it not? We’re hours away from the nearest city, and I think you’d pass out from starvation before you even made it there.” 

San shakes his head, exasperated. Where had those thugs even taken him? As if on cue, San’s stomach growls, his system finally recognising the need for sustenance. San flushes, biting his bottom lip as he looks away. Yunho chuckles, then starts towards the kitchen. 

“There’s a tub in the bathroom there,” Yunho says, nodding his head towards the closed door near the bed. “You can wash up while I get you something to eat.”

San narrows his eyes, watching Yunho carefully as he begins digging through cupboards. He shouldn’t be even thinking about trying to take a bath with his arch-nemesis just a room over, but the thought of warm water washing away all this grime is just too good to pass up. Just as he makes his way to the bathroom, Yunho tosses him the lighter, which he catches easily. 

San lights an oil lamp by the bathtub, then reaches down to turn the knob. He half expects there’d be no hot water in a cabin so remote like this and seemingly without electricity, but he’s gleefully proven wrong. As the tub fills, San sheds his sweaty clothing, leaving it in a heap on the wooden floor. He sighs pleasantly as he steps in, lowering himself into the heavenly warmth. 

Until now, he hadn’t realised just how sore he’s been. He melts into the water, each tense muscle uncoiling until he’s nothing but jelly. He rests his head back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed as his breathing and his pulse slows. 

He knows this is insane. He knows Yunho’s got a screw loose, so it should come as no surprise that he’d play with San like this. But San is supposed to be rational, and right now he’s doing something entirely irrational. 

But somehow, San can’t even bring himself to care. He’s too busy melting into this bath, too busy feeling the bliss of finally being able to breathe. 

At some point, he dozes off, the exhaustion hitting him like a wave. He doesn’t notice the knocking on the door, or the creak of it as it carefully swings open. He doesn’t even notice the footsteps approaching him, and only wakes when he hears a faint whisper saying, “San.” 

San blinks, his vision slightly blurry from the grogginess. There’s a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of it almost searing. San looks up, eyes widening when he sees Yunho standing over him. And then he realises that he is fully nude right now, and although the oil lamp is dim, it’s certainly enough for Yunho to get a full view of him. 

San jolts, pulling his knees close to his chest. “What the fuck,” he hisses, the nape of his neck burning red. 

“I knocked and called your name, but no dice.”

“So you came in? While I’m in the bath?”

Yunho shrugs. “Didn’t want you to drown.” 

“As you can see, I haven’t drowned and I am very much alive. Now get out.” 

Yunho steps back, raising his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away, kitten.”

San stands, reeling his fist back, and Yunho smirks. He catches Yunho’s eye flick downward toward his lower abdomen, the movement so quick that he almost feels he’d imagined it, but then Yunho is backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him. “You can wear those clothes,” Yunho shouts, voice muffled through the door. 

San can feel the pink blooming on the tips of his ears, and he mumbles curses at Yunho as he steps out of the bath and towels off. There’s a pile of folded clothes resting near the door, and San snatches them up before quickly pulling them on. It’s a turtleneck sweater, tight around San’s broad chest but the arms are too long, covering most of the length of his fingers, and the pants drag past his feet slightly. 

They must be Yunho’s clothes, and San should be horrified that he’s wearing them. 

Not long after, he emerges from the bathroom, refusing to look at Yunho who is sitting at the table. Instead, his nose catches a whiff of the steaming stew that’s on the dining table, and he floats over to it, his stomach rumbling in anticipation. 

“You’re not going to poison me, are you? I’d say it’s a cowardly way to kill someone, but I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

Yunho tilts his head. “Now why would I poison you after I went through all that trouble to save you?”

“Who knows what goes on in that monkey brain of yours.”

Yunho barks out a laugh. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

“You’re one to talk.” 

“See? Can’t just be grateful for being rescued, sheltered, and fed.” 

San rolls his eyes, but he picks up the spoon and tentatively dips it into the stew. He brings it to his lips, sipping it carefully, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the taste of it. It’s surprisingly thick and savoury, and San’s hunger overtakes him. He wolfs the entire bowl down in a matter of minutes. 

When he’s finished, he places the empty bowl in front of him and takes a breath. “So why did you even rescue me, anyway?” San asks after a moment, eyeing Yunho carefully as he casually eats his own serving. 

Yunho glances up at him, gaze much more serious than it was just moments ago. The last time he’d seen Yunho so serious was the moment he broke into San’s cell. After a long pause, Yunho’s voice breaks the silence. “I hate when people mess with my… projects,” he mutters. 

San narrows his eyes. “Projects? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yunho shakes his head, standing up. He grabs the bowl in front of San, stacks it on top of his own empty bowl, and tosses them into the sink. “You must be tired,” Yunho deflects, ignoring San’s question outright. “You can sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.” 

San frowns. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Shouldn’t you be trying to kill me right now?”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to kill me right now?” Yunho tosses a glance over his shoulder and San’s mouth gapes open slightly. He wants to question Yunho further—he knows there’s something Yunho isn’t telling him—but he knows that Yunho is right. What leg does San have to stand on when he’s the one who is not only letting a criminal walk free, but is letting said criminal cook for him. Whatever justification San had for himself before is starting to feel all the more unconvincing. 

San deflates, pouting without meaning to. 

“Don’t worry, we can get back to trying to kill each other once this is all over. Then it’ll be on our terms.” 

San raises his brow. “Do you know something about those thugs? Or what they wanted with me in the first place?”

Yunho sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He’d already removed his glove and the silver finger coverings he always wore on the one hand, and San can’t help but watch as the length of his fingers smooth over the soft strands of his deep black hair. “I know that while the underlings are complete idiots, their boss is not someone to be trifled with.”

“Who’s their boss?” San asks, sitting up straighter. He knows most of the criminals and villains in their country, and certainly most of them within the city. It’s San’s job to protect his home, after all. But he can’t say he recognised the ninja uniforms or the crow logo, which he’d chalked up to them being low-rate villains that were more the concern of the police and of less experienced heroes. 

“His name is Kim Hyunwoo, and he’s been moving mostly underground until now. I don’t know exactly what he’s planning, but I know you’ve been on his radar for a while now.”

San furrows his brows. “So they were targeting me,” he states. 

“I have a feeling his underlings acted on their own accord, but it wasn’t without reason. What is that reason? I don’t know yet.” 

San sighs. “Well, it’s not the first time a villain is after me.” He stands, his chair scraping over the wooden floor. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.” 

Yunho turns to face him fully now, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Well, we can get to it after some much needed rest.”

“We?” San crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I’ve got my own problems with Hyunwoo’s operations, and I seem to know more about them than you do. Now I’ve gone out of my way to rescue you, so I figure we could strike up a truce and work together on this one. Really, there’s no downside for you. You get my intel, and you don’t even have to work for it.” 

A muscle in San’s jaw flexes. “There’s no way you don’t want something in return from me. I know you, and I know that you only do things out of self-interest.” 

Yunho shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me, and I won’t lie—I am doing this out of self-interest. But the reasons don’t matter; all you need to know is that I don’t need anything from you.”

San scoffs in disbelief. “I’ll never understand you.”

The corner of Yunho’s mouth quirks up into a soft smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. If San didn’t know any better, he might say Yunho looks sad. 

“You must be tired,” Yunho says, ignoring San. “Need to sleep off those drugs, yeah?” 

San pauses, watching Yunho carefully. But he nods; he’s exhausted. Yunho gestures toward the bed in the corner of the room and San isn’t going to put up a fight. It’s surprisingly comfortable despite its small size, and worlds better than whatever monstrosity had been in his cell. He sinks into it, exhaling. 

“Are you going to sleep?” San mutters after a few minutes. 

“Soon,” Yunho answers across the room, his voice barely above a whisper. 

In the comfort of a warm bed and soft sheets, San’s eyelids are already starting to drift closed. “On the couch?” 

“That’s right.” 

“That couch is too small for you,” San mumbles. 

He hears a breathy chuckle, closer now. “I’ve managed in smaller spaces before. Now get some rest. I know how exhausted you are.”

And San doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

///

San sleeps restlessly. It’s not unusual for him, of course, because he’s usually plagued with nightmares. And he doesn’t know it, but if the nightmares are strong enough—if he fears them enough—they spill over into the real world. When he’s sleeping, he can’t keep a grip on his powers. They fester and pool, bathing the room in illusion after illusion, a projection of every scary thought he’s ever had. 

Each nightmare has its own unique flavour of horror. A horror that San can never quite escape. He sees the fallen bodies of his friends, those he has lost because he wasn’t quick enough, wasn’t strong enough. They stare up at him, wide-eyed and slack jawed. Their bodies pile around him, glassy eyes dead to the world, and yet they’re looking at him and it’s as if he can hear their voices. 

“Why didn’t you save us?”

“Why did you let us die?”

San tries to turn away, but there is no escaping it. Instead, he crouches down, tucking his chin into his chest and squeezing his eyes shut tight, hands covering his ears to block out the haunting voices swirling around him. He cries, chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not good enough. I couldn’t save you.” 

He’s overwhelmed by despair, the feeling of it clawing at his skin until he feels like he’s being flayed alive. There’s ice gripping his heart, slowing the flow of blood, and it’s as if he’s turning to stone. He can’t breathe, stone ribs turned rigid, and all he wants to do right now is disappear. 

“It’s okay, San. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” 

San’s breath hitches. Who is that voice? He’s never heard it before in his nightmares, but somehow it feels familiar. Calming. Warm. San lifts his head just slightly, uncovering his ears. 

“You’re good enough, San. You’ve always been good enough.”

Slowly, San feels like his chest is thawing. His bones creak as he begins to move, the blood returning to his system. When he opens his eyes now, the bodies are gone. Instead, he’s in a field, the smell of pine and rain heavy in the air, and he’s sitting, cushioned by plush grass covered in morning dew. 

San inhales, his lungs expanding as he takes in as much crisp air as possible. “You’re perfect, San. You’ve saved so many lives. You’ll save many more.” 

The voice is so close to him, no louder than a whisper but San knows it’s right beside him, tickling his ear. He turns to his left, breath hitching when he sees Yunho sitting there beside him. Yunho is dressed down, wearing just his black mock-neck shirt and black pants, and he’s grinning at San like he always is. 

“You think I’m perfect?” San asks quietly. “You think I’m good enough?” 

Yunho nods, shifting closer. He rests a hand on San’s knee, the warmth of his touch burning through San’s clothes. “You’re perfect.”

San holds his breath. As he looks at Yunho now, sitting in this field among the lush green, San realises just how beautiful he is. He’s always known Yunho was handsome, and it’s something that has annoyed San endlessly every time he sees that striking smirk of his. But here, in San’s dreams, San can accept that he’s beautiful. He can accept that Yunho’s smooth voice has the ability to send shivers down his spine. He can accept that if things were different, then maybe San and Yunho could get along. Maybe they could even be friends. 

Before San can reel in his dreams, he sees Yunho lean forward. He doesn’t fight it, though, because this is a dream. What’s there to fight? So he doesn’t fight it when Yunho leans so close that he feels his breath ghosting over San’s lips. And he doesn’t fight it when he feels Yunho’s soft lips slide over his own, sending pleasurable shocks to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

It’s not the first time San has thought about kissing Yunho. He’s not proud of it, and blames it strictly on being too pent up and overwhelmed by his life. But right now, he can’t seem to bring himself to care. He lets Yunho kiss him, even responds by opening his mouth and letting Yunho lick into him. 

He’s overcome with need. To be closer. To have more. San isn’t sure exactly what he needs, but he starts to move, climbing into Yunho’s lap. Yunho’s hands rest on the crest of his hips, fingers pressing in and making San shiver. The kiss deepens even further, San pressing his body against Yunho’s, gasping into his mouth with every swipe of Yunho’s tongue. 

Yunho’s hands grow insistent, clutching San harder and closer, palms sliding up San’s shirt and along his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. San fingers are in Yunho’s hair, tangling in the soft strands at the nape of his long neck, and he grounds himself to the sound of Yunho’s sighs and groans. 

San isn’t sure how long they kiss for. All he knows is that he’s lost in it, lost in Yunho’s sandalwood scent and his taste, and San hardly minds. This dream of his is a manifestation of his desires, desires pulled straight from the deepest depths of his heart, but he lets himself have it. For now. Just this once, he doesn’t have to wrestle with the moral dilemma between knowing just how wrong it is to want someone like Yunho, and how right it feels when they’re pressed up against each other, caught in the kind of fight that makes San’s heart race with anticipation and thrill rather than fear. 

The dream fades as San stirs. The mattress shifts, dipping a little then springing back up as the weight that had been on it lifts. San is too groggy to register the sound of boots slowly walking across the floor, or the sound of a door creaking quietly as it’s gently shut. He falls asleep again shortly after, drifting back into the dreams he’ll remember when he wakes, but never acknowledges.

Chapter Text

When San wakes, he’s alone in the safehouse. The oil lamp still burns in the kitchen, its warm glow easing San into consciousness, and San slowly slides out of bed. His muscles have lost the ache that’s been plaguing him for the last few days, and when he attunes to the energy within him, he notices it’s calm now. His power ebbs and flows like the tide swayed by the moon, and he sighs pleasantly at the harmony of it. 

There’s no windows in the cabin, so San slowly pads over to the front door, stretching his arms above his head. He attempts to push it open, but the door resists, the padlock jiggling as he tries to force it open. When the door refuses to budge, he gives up, stepping back. 

San frowns. So Yunho is locking him in now? He’s just gone from one prison to another, but somehow he doubts that’s Yunho’s intention. He knows Yunho; he might be sneaky and callous, but he’d have nothing to gain from taking someone prisoner. No, he delights in teasing San and fucking with him every chance he gets—why would he bother kidnapping him? 

A truce, he’d said last night. What could possibly be going on in Yunho’s head right now? He’s always been an enigma, but San can only imagine what dastardly plan he’s got locked up in that thick skull of his. 

He can’t work with a man like Yunho, and San is going to put him behind bars when this is all over. But his curiosity is getting the better of him, and really, isn’t it better to measure twice, cut once? He can bide his time, follow Yunho’s whims, and take the opportunity when it arises. 

San walks over to the kitchen, pouring himself a mug of water from the jug sitting on the countertop. As he quenches his parched throat, he takes a walk around the log cabin, examining it. It’s barebones, with no personal effects to be found. Even if someone were to find this safehouse, San suspects they’d come up with nothing for it. Yunho’s certainly got his ways of covering his tracks, after all. 

After a while, San hears the mechanical whir of the padlock disengaging. The door opens slowly, and San turns from his spot on the couch to watch as Yunho steps into the cabin, a couple of rabbits slung over his shoulder. His eyes find San’s quickly, and San swallows thickly. 

“You’re up,” Yunho says. He closes the door behind him and waltzes over to the kitchen, throwing the dead rabbits down on the counter. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Like a baby,” San mutters sarcastically. “Where have you been?” 

“Working. Getting more intel, getting you breakfast.”

“You locked the door this morning. Thought I was going to run, huh?” 

“No, I think you have more sense than that. I locked it because they’re looking for you. Seems Hyunwoo wasn’t too happy to learn that you’d been caught and released. He’s on the hunt for you now.”

San purses his lips, his eyebrows furrowing. “If he’s on the hunt for me, who knows what his plans are for the city—for the country. I need to get back to protect it.” 

Yunho grabs a machete from a nearby drawer, quickly working away at the rabbit as San watches on in mild horror. “He’ll be expecting you to return to the city, where he’ll be waiting for you. If you go back now, who knows what kind of destruction he’ll cause trying to recapture you.”

San’s lips thin out. He stands, walking towards the kitchen and stopping when he’s just a foot or so away from Yunho. Yunho glances at him briefly, before turning his attention back to the rabbit he’s expertly preparing. 

“If they’re going to the city expecting me, then they’ll hurt people no matter what. I need to go and protect them.” 

Yunho sighs, his hand stilling on the cutting board. He turns to look at San, eyes dark and filled with an emotion that San can’t quite place. “Staying away from the city is protecting them.” 

San narrows his eyes. “How can I be sure that you’re not just trying to keep me away from the city as some sort of ploy to attack it in my absence?”

Yunho raises an eyebrow. “You are deeply mistrusting, you know that?”

San scoffs. “That implies that my mistrust is misplaced.” 

Yunho starts up again, and San’s nose wrinkles at the smell of blood. When Yunho has cut enough of the skin away from the rabbit, he tosses the rabbit onto a clean plate, then runs his hands under the tap and scrubs them clean. “I’m not saying I’m the most trustworthy person in the world, but your logic is flawed. If I wanted to keep you here so I could go back and rob all the banks in the city, then why would I stay here with you?”

San’s jaw tightens. “Who knows what kind of underground network you could be working with that could do your dirty work for you.”

“You’re smarter than that, San. I work alone, and you know that. Though, I suppose intelligence has never been your strong suit.” 

San growls, his nerves suddenly firing off in annoyance. Yunho has always had a knack for teasing San and insulting him, but for some reason he can’t quite let it go this time. So he tackles Yunho. San throws a punch, which Yunho easily dodges, and Yunho responds by grabbing and twisting San’s wrist. Yunho turns San, pulling him against the front of his body, fingers digging to his wrist painfully as he twists San’s arm behind him. 

“I see you’re as violent as ever,” Yunho murmurs. “Guess the drugs are out of your system now.” 

Yunho’s body radiates heat, enough that San can feel it wash over his back. For a brief moment, he’s reminded of his dream and the feeling of Yunho’s body against his as he swallowed down every sigh that slipped from San’s wanton lips. 

San grunts, rearing his leg up before swinging it back. He smirks slightly when he hears Yunho grunt, his grip loosening around San’s wrist. San rips his arm away, grabbing Yunho’s, then heaves as he flips him over. San doesn’t waste a moment, straddling Yunho and grabbing him around the collar, fingers curling into the fabric. 

Yunho, just a little breathless, looks up at him. San is almost more annoyed that he doesn’t have that usual smirk on his face; instead, Yunho’s mouth parts slightly, his deep gaze meeting San’s. San curses at himself when he catches his eyes lingering on Yunho’s lips. 

“God, you’re insufferable.”

The smirk returns to Yunho’s face. “But you can never get enough of me.”

San wrinkles his nose. “You’re not just insufferable. You’re delusional. ”

“You’ve had plenty of opportunities to get rid of me. And yet you haven’t. Why is that?” 

San had been annoyed when that smirk was gone, but he’s pissed off when he looks at it now. It’s challenging him, like Yunho always is, and San wants to wipe it off his face. “I’m not a coward like you. I don’t sneak around in the shadows and catch people off guard just to get the one-up on them.” 

(San, of course, will ignore the fact that that’s exactly what he was planning to do to Yunho just an hour ago). 

Yunho tilts his head a little. “You’re right. You’re not like me. But I don’t think that’s why you haven’t tried to kill me yet.” 

San inhales, chest rising. He can feel the heat pulsing from Yunho’s body beneath him, permeating through San’s pants and warming his inner thighs. He shifts a little, eyes locked on the bob of Yunho’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Why do you think I haven’t killed you yet?” San asks, his voice dropping a breath lower. 

Yunho pauses a moment, eyes flicking down to San’s lips. They don’t come back up. “I think there’s something else,” Yunho mutters, his voice smooth as velvet. “Something you don’t want to admit to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” San says, a little breathless.

“I think you like being pursued by me. And teased,” Yunho whispers. San had never pinned Yunho’s arms down, and he’s acutely aware that he’s given him endless openings to strike back. But Yunho doesn’t. Instead, his hands land on San’s knees, long fingers sending sparks through his pants. 

San doesn’t say anything, breath held in his chest. He almost doesn’t believe what he’s hearing right now—in a way, he’s afraid that this is just one of his illusions seeping out again—but with the glint in Yunho’s eyes, he can’t seem to break the spell. 

Yunho’s fingers slide up his thighs slowly, his touch so featherlight that it’s barely there. And yet, San can feel the overwhelming heat from his palms as if he’s branding his skin, and the ripple of his nerves as he shivers from head to toe. 

San is the one with the upper hand here, his fingers still curled into Yunho’s collar, and he could stop Yunho easily. But he doesn’t.

San shifts again, sitting back a little, a strange feeling building deep in his gut. Yunho’s eyes darken at the movement and San watches with bated breath as Yunho sits up, his hands crawling even further up San’s thighs until the tips of his fingers are dipping around the crease of San’s hip joint. The position is nearly identical to his dream from the night before, the thought of it making every synapse in San’s brain short circuit. 

Yunho’s face is so close to his own, their breaths mingling. Yunho tips his chin up, just a hair’s breadth away from San’s, and all San can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and the thundering of his heart in his chest. They’ve been this close before, of course, and San won’t admit it but he’s felt this heat before, this electricity between them . But now? God, San feels like he might combust. 

“I know you feel it, too,” Yunho whispers, like he’s reading San’s mind. 

“No, I—” San whispers, breath hitching. He can deny it all he wants, but really, who is he fooling? 

“You don’t have to fight it,” Yunho says, and San swallows. How does Yunho always know what he’s thinking?

“I don’t— I don’t understand you,” San breathes. His fingers have slackened, leaving behind the crumpled fabric of Yunho’s jacket collar, and instead they hover awkwardly in the tiny space between them. What will happen if San reaches forward and tangles his fingers in Yunho’s hair, and if he were to do the very thing he’s been thinking about much longer than he could ever admit? If he crosses the threshold, will he have to admit that maybe he’s no hero after all? 

But he already knows that. A hero saves people, and San has never been able to do that, no matter how hard he tries. 

Yunho’s fingers curve around his hips, dragging up the small of his back and pulling San even closer. They’re so close that when Yunho speaks now, his lips brush over San’s. “Oh, but I understand you, San.”

“We shouldn’t— I shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t do what, San?” Yunho turns his head slightly, nosing at San’s jawline. He trembles at the feeling of it, his neck craning just a little bit to give Yunho more access. 

“This—” San cuts off, gasping when Yunho’s mouth ghosts over his carotid. “You and me,” he finishes, eyes half-lidded as his fingers settle gently on Yunho’s shoulders. It’s such an innocent movement and compared to San’s dream from the night before and the compromising position he finds himself in now, it really shouldn’t mean much to him. But it’s a line crossed, a chasm jumped into, and San has no one to blame but himself. 

Yunho removes one hand from San’s back, snaking it around instead to slide over the curve of his jaw. He coaxes San to look back down again, their lips nearly meeting once more. San shifts again, trembling when his crotch brushes against Yunho’s growing hardness. 

It seems to be the tip of the iceberg, because Yunho captures San’s lips without another second to spare. San gasps into the kiss, breath swallowed by Yunho whose fingers flex into the small of his back. The kiss is unlike his dream; it’s more raw, more hurried, more intense. Yunho is insistent in the way that he pries San open, tearing through each of his defenses as if they were made of straw. 

San crumbles under his touch, moaning softly as Yunho’s tongue slides against his own, the taste of him addictive. There’s hints of peppermint and smoke, a slight bitterness cut by the sweet taste of citrus and San knows he’s gone mad because his stomach twists at the flavour, and he’s overcome by a desire to consume and be consumed. 

He arches into Yunho, finds purchase in the wavy strands that rest over the nape of his neck, hips slotting against Yunho’s as he crowds into him. Yunho groans, neck craning up and chin tipping back further as if he’s drinking in all of San’s lifeblood, offered up readily to him in a gold chalice.

San pulls away, flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He’s delighted to see that Yunho looks equally as wrecked as San feels, and he almost laughs at the feeling of triumph bubbling within. But he swallows his laugh down when he meets Yunho’s voracious eyes, the feeling replaced by one of delicious anticipation. Yunho’s fingers leave their place on his jaw, grazing against the skin of his cheek. His thumb runs along San’s bottom lip, tugging a little to coax his mouth open. San shudders when he feels Yunho’s thumb dip into his mouth, and he carefully closes his lips around it, tongue pressing into the pad of his finger. 

Truthfully, San has never done this before. He’s tried to date in the past, but from a young age he’d been groomed for greatness, a loyal student of the Academy that was responsible for training children with powers to become superheroes. The Academy was highly restrictive, and never really gave San the freedom of connecting with others, certainly not like this. By the time he’d graduated and had become a fully-fledged superhero, he had a reputation to uphold and a city to protect. 

He can feel himself tensing slightly, anxious thoughts starting to swirl in his head. He’s not sure what he’s doing, has no experience with anything like this—what if he screws it up? Will Yunho laugh at him? Not to mention, he’s doing this with someone he’s supposed to despise, someone who is so fundamentally against all of his morals that he should feel dirty for even considering this. 

Oh god, and what is this anyway? What if this is just another one of Yunho’s jokes, one of his ploys to catch San off guard and finish him off right there and then? 

Yunho presses his thumb down slightly, and San’s tongue swirls around it. Then he removes his thumb with a pop and leans forward, breath tickling San’s ear as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, San. Despite what you think of me, I’m not a bad guy.”

Yunho must have sensed his hesitation. San inhales, then exhales, his breath shaky. His head is swimming with both insecurity and desire, a desperate want for Yunho mixed with the fear of rejection and humiliation and disgust at himself for being so ready to throw it all away just to have this. 

“But it’s okay to want this, San. Being a hero doesn’t change the fact that you have wants and needs. Desires. Let yourself go, and I can fulfill those desires.” 

One day, he’ll figure out how Yunho always seems to know what he’s thinking. Yunho had said that he understands San, and maybe that’s true. And maybe, San can take comfort in knowing that someone understands him, even when he himself does not. 

San answers with a tentative press of his lips to the corner of Yunho’s mouth. Yunho grins, hands returning to San’s waist as he kisses him breathless once again. This time his hands roam, ducking under the hem of San’s sweater and sliding over his back. San whines at the feeling of Yunho’s nails grazing over his sensitive skin, his own voice unrecognisable to himself. 

The next time they part, Yunho begins to shift. “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable, kitten. I doubt you want me to take you on the floor.” 

San whines softly, fingers flexing into Yunho’s scalp. “Don’t—” he breathes, chest heaving, “Don’t call me that.”

Yunho chuckles, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the angle of San’s jaw. “Oh? But you like it, kitten. Just look—” 

San gasps when Yunho’s palms the heat in San’s groin. He chases the friction, rolling his hips into Yunho’s hand, earning another breathy chuckle from Yunho. “You can deny it all you want, kitten, but I know you. I understand you. And your body doesn’t lie.” 

San bites his lip, head falling forward to rest on Yunho’s shoulder. All he can hear is the sound of his harsh breathing as Yunho presses his palm into San, the heat building. “Come,” Yunho whispers, “Let me show you what it feels like to finally let go of all these expectations you have for yourself.” 

The moment that San shifts back to start getting up, he’s winded by the feeling of being swiftly raised, hands curling under his thighs as Yunho hoists him up in an incredible feat of strength. How he’d picked San up from off his lap and stood up in such a quick and smooth motion, San isn’t sure. 

San wraps his legs around Yunho’s waist, Yunho’s mouth finding his again as he moves them across the room. San feels like he’s overheating, every nerve short circuiting, and he’s already a trembling mess despite the fact that Yunho has barely touched him. 

San lands with a soft thump as he’s tossed onto the bed. San’s chest heaves, eyes half-lidded as he watches Yunho shrug his jacket off and pull his shirt over his head, discarding the clothing to the side. San marvels at the smooth planes of Yunho’s chest, the way his shoulders stretch broadly before his torso dips in at the waist. 

“Like what you see?” Yunho asks, smirking, and San flushes from head to toe. ‘ Like what you see?’ he’d said in his illusion, and then again during their escape. He’d denied it the first two times, but right now he finds he doesn’t have it in him to protest. 

“So this is what I have to do to render you speechless?” Yunho teases, fitting himself into the space between San’s thighs. He pushes the hem of San’s sweater up over San’s chest, smoothing his hands over his skin. San arches slightly when Yunho’s fingers brush over his nipples, his cock twitching between his thighs. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” San asks, attempting snark but his voice just sounds breathy and weak instead. 

“But you like the sound of my voice,” Yunho says, leaning down to mouth at San’s chest. 

“ You like the sound of your own voice,” San bites back, and he opens his mouth to make another snarky comment but all that comes out is a moan when he feels Yunho’s lips wrap around his nipple. As his mouth works at San’s nipple, licking and sucking the sensitive tissue, his hand dips past the waistband of San’s pants, fingers curling over San’s length. 

San bites his lip, writhing from the overstimulation of Yunho’s mouth on him and his hand working his cock expertly until he’s fully hard and aching. Yunho pulls away from his chest, moving up to kiss San’s mouth almost sweetly. “Feeling shy, kitten?”

San swallows. “ No,” he lies. “Just— just waiting for you to get on with it,” he says. 

Yunho nips at his bottom lip, removing his hand from San’s pants and San tries not to whine at the loss of contact. “Be careful provoking me,” Yunho warns. “I’m not sure if you can handle the consequences.”

“You never stop underestimating me,” San fires back. 

“Then I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong.” 

Yunho dips down again, trailing sloppy kisses along San’s chest and stomach. San feels the deep muscles in his abdomen tense as Yunho’s lips trail lower and lower, and when Yunho tugs the waistband of San’s pants down and noses at the coarse hair around San’s cock, San bites his lip in anticipation.

In the next breath, he swallows him down, and San nearly combusts. San stifles a moan, but his efforts are wasted when Yunho bobs his head, sucking hard around the tip. San throws his head back, hands grasping at the sheets by his head, and his voice raises in pitch, tumbling out of his throat wantonly. The heat of Yunho’s mouth around him, tightening with every hard suck, is mind-melting and San’s toes curl, hips threatening to buck up against him. 

When San looks down to see that Yunho is looking up at him through long lashes, San almost loses it. With every bob of Yunho’s head, he swallows San down farther and farther, suctioning around his cock like he’s trying to suck the life right out of him. 

San shivers, the tension deep within his abdomen coiling tighter and tighter until he feels like he might burst. With one hand still tangled in the sheets above his head, he reaches down with the other, aiming to grab Yunho and make him stop because if he keeps going like this, San won’t last much longer. 

Yunho sees the movement, and instead reaches up with his own hand to intertwine their fingers, an oddly intimate gesture that makes San’s heart race impossibly faster. Yunho squeezes his hand and San holds on for dear life. 

“Stop, I’m— I’m going to—” San chokes out, but the words cut off, interspersed with high-pitched sighs as he approaches the edge. 

Yunho squeezes his hand one more time, and San cries out as his release hits him. Yunho doesn’t move, fingers still intertwined while his other hand grips hard into the underside of San’s thigh, swallowing every last bit of cum. 

San pants, fingers going slack around Yunho’s, and Yunho sits back on his heels, tongue darting out to lick his sweat-slick lips. “See how good it can feel if you just let go for once?” 

San can’t quite find it in himself to reply yet, his body still trembling violently as he comes down from his high. In San’s stupor, Yunho gets busy with the rest of their clothes, removing San’s pants, then his sweater. 

“Doing okay, kitten? Think you can handle more?” 

San lets out a shuddering breath. “Like I said— don’t underestimate me,” he replies. No matter how crazy he is—how batshit insane he is—he can’t let Yunho win. 

Yunho chuckles, nodding. “I’ll give you this little breather then, but when I come back you’d better be prepared.” 

San takes a deep breath in, his pulse finally slowing. Yunho steps around the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a few seconds. When he returns, he tosses a small bottle onto the bed beside San, then steps out of his pants and crawls back in between San’s open legs. San glances down, blinking as he takes in the man before him. Yunho’s handsomeness has always been something he used to every advantage, charming people and slipping past them all because they could hardly look away from his dashing smile. But the real beauty is hiding under the clothes he wears—it’s as if a Greek statue has come to life, his body chiseled from the finest marble. 

“I wonder what the good citizens of the city would think looking at you now? Lying under a villain as rotten as me, flushed and panting like this.”

“Shut up,” San grunts. “Don’t talk about that.”

“I think they’d be surprised to see just how beautiful you look like this. Envious of me for being the one to unravel you,” Yunho says, ignoring him.  

Yunho leans down, licking a stripe up San’s neck. San groans, breath hitching in his throat. “And I think they’d be surprised to see their great hero so wanton like this. So desperate.”

“Desperate? In your dreams,” San murmurs.

“In your dreams, apparently.” 

It takes San a moment to register the words. He’s confused at first, thinks maybe it’s just Yunho being his cocky self. “How could you possibly know what’s in my dreams?” he grumbles. 

Instead of answering, Yunho kisses San all deep and slow. The kiss opens him right back up again, and when he feels Yunho roll his hips down against him, his whines turn needy. Yunho’s body is molten lava against him and he places his hands on Yunho’s shoulders, nails digging into the soft skin there. 

“All of those citizens you work so hard to protect… they don’t matter here. For once, you get to do something for yourself. They can be envious and surprised, but in the end, all that matters is how you feel in this moment,” Yunho murmurs against his lips. 

San moans when Yunho rolls his hips again. “How do you feel right now, San? Hm?”

San shakes his head, the sensation of Yunho’s bare skin against him just a little too overwhelming. How does he even begin to describe the intense heat he feels?

“Speechless again, hm? That’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I know how you feel,” Yunho says and he reaches past San to grab the little bottle he’d tossed on the bed earlier.

He shifts, repositioning so that he’s resting on his forearm bracketing San’s head while his other hand dips lower. Before San can ask what he’s doing, he jolts at the cool sensation at his entrance. Oh, he thinks. 

“This is the point of no return, kitten. Are you ready?”

San pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes searching Yunho’s for some sort of indication that Yunho has just been toying with all along, like he always is. It doesn’t come; instead, San sees his own desire mirrored in Yunho’s dark brown eyes. 

“You’re gonna back down now after all that talk?” San challenges, and Yunho swoops down to kiss him breathless. As he licks into San’s mouth, he feels pressure at his entrance which slowly gives way to fullness as Yunho’s finger breaches him. 

San gasps into Yunho’s mouth, the sound of it swallowed whole by Yunho, and he wraps his arms tighter around Yunho’s neck, clutching at the skin between his shoulder blades. 

San is human, despite his constitution and the extraordinary powers he holds, so it’s no surprise that he’s explored his own body many times before. He’s chased pleasure before, desired to be pleasured. It’s a normal human need, and San isn’t such a prude to deny that. But having someone else touch him in places he can hardly reach himself… it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. 

Yunho’s long finger slides into him, pushing in slowly. San squeezes his eyes shut—it’s not painful, not by a long shot, but it’s foreign to him and frankly, a little bit scary (though he’d never admit it). 

Yunho pulls his lips away, a string of saliva still connecting them, and he shifts upward to gently kiss San’s eyelids. The gesture is so soft that San feels himself start to melt instantly, the knot between his brows unraveling. 

“That’s it, kitten. Just relax,” Yunho whispers.

He pumps his finger in and out slowly and methodically, curling it in just the right way to make San squirm. Yunho continues to work him up, and when he pushes a second finger in along the first, San can feel the heat building deep in his core once again. Yunho mouths at his throat, and San shivers at every graze of his teeth. 

San’s hips move on their own, rolling against the pressure of Yunho’s fingers. Yunho hums and spreads his fingers, scissoring and stretching San further and further, and San is nothing more than putty in his arms. Yunho takes his sweet time opening San up, only adding a third finger once San is fully hard again and he’s writhing atop the sheets like he’s desperate for more. 

And maybe he is, but he doesn’t want to give Yunho that victory. 

Yunho nibbles at San’s earlobe, teasing the skin between his teeth, and San drags his nails across Yunho’s shoulder blades, leaving marks in his wake. He aches between his thighs, squeezes them around Yunho’s hips as his back arches off the bed. Yunho’s fingers continue to pump in and out of him to a smooth rhythm, syncing with San’s breathy sighs. 

“If you keep begging like this, I’m going to have a hard time going easy on you.” 

San turns his head slightly, nipping at Yunho’s neck just over the prominent jugular vein. “How many times do I have to say it? Don’t underestimate me,” he murmurs. 

Yunho growls, a deep, possessive sound ripping from his throat. His fingers slip out of San, earning a breathy whine from him, and he pulls back, leaving San shivering from the sudden wave of cold he feels without Yunho’s body against him. 

He watches in a daze as Yunho shoves a pillow under San’s hips, tipping them up. Then Yunho reaches again for the small bottle, slathering his cock in the viscous liquid. San holds his breath, captivated as he watches Yunho. It’s a consolation for him, at least, that Yunho looks about as wrecked as he feels. His face is flushed, lips kiss swollen and red, and his deep black hair is matted to his forehead. He’s looking at San like he’s going to devour him and it sends shivers down his spine. 

“I want you to watch me fuck you,” Yunho says. San bites his lip, gaze drifting down to see exactly what Yunho wants him to see. 

Yunho’s fingers curl around his hips, pulling him forward a little more, forcing his hips to tip up enough that San has a clear view of Yunho’s cock pressing against his entrance. Yunho moves slowly, deliberately, his cock easing past San’s entrance. San moans softly, breath stuttering at the stretch. It’s infinitely more intense than Yunho’s slender fingers and his breath is caught in his throat. 

Yunho reaches forward, brushing the pad of his thumb over San’s bottom lip. “Breathe, kitten,” he instructs. San parts his lips, soft moans spilling from him as he watches Yunho’s cock disappear further and further inside of him. 

Yunho’s hips move slowly, giving him plenty of time to adjust. Is it just Yunho teasing him again? Or is it consideration for him? San’s not sure which, but he relishes in the feeling of Yunho slowly filling him, the stretch of it so dizzying that he can’t tell if it’s pleasure or discomfort. 

San gasps when Yunho sinks all the way to the hilt, his cock settled so deep within San that he feels an undeniable pressure in the depths of his stomach. Yunho doesn’t move at first, San just breathing hard as he adjusts. Yunho lowers his hand, brushing the tips of his fingers over San’s jaw, his neck, his nipple, and then flattening along his stomach. He presses his palm gently against the spot just above San’s pubic bone and San nearly convulses at the pressure of Yunho’s hand against the sensitive area inside of him where the tip of Yunho’s cock is nestled. 

“You’re so tight, San,” Yunho breathes out, voice gravelly. His eyes are glazed over, cheeks flushed a beautiful cherry red. “Do you feel me here?”

San’s hands fumble for purchase, settling on the pillow beneath his head. The movement elongates his torso, the muscles in his shoulders rippling deliciously, and Yunho groans as he watches San move. 

“I— it feels so full, ” San stammers, arching his back and feeling Yunho’s cock shifting inside of him, settling even deeper. 

Yunho curses under his breath, fingers flexing painfully into San’s skin. “God, San, do you even know what you do to people?” he mutters. 

“I don’t— I don’t know what you mean—”

Yunho slowly begins to pull out, dragging his cock until only the tip remains inside San. Then he rolls his hips, achingly slow, pushing all the way back in. The friction of it is delicious, but the pace of it is too much and yet not enough. San squirms, knuckles whitening as Yunho seems to push in even deeper. 

Yunho continues like that, pulling nearly all the way out just to push back in further each time. It’s fast enough that San teeters on the edge, unable to wind down or feel any reprieve, but not fast enough to push him over it. Yunho’s breaths are ragged as he continues to push and pull, each roll of his hips making San mewl.

The image of Yunho’s cock pumping in and out of him is altogether too much, and San tips his head back, a particularly loud moan tumbling out of his mouth. Yunho leans forward, bottom lips catching on San’s chin. He kisses San, wet and sloppy, and San untangles his fingers from the poor pillow beneath his head, instead wrapping his arms around Yunho’s back.

He’s all gasps and moans as Yunho continues to rock into him, heart hammering in his chest. His fingernails dig into Yunho’s back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath them, and he can tell he’s broken skin when his fingers curl as Yunho shifts, changing the angle slightly. 

The pace continues like this for longer than San can handle. At some point, he presses his heels into the upper part of Yunho’s glutes, a subconscious plea for more. 

“I think I could do this all day,” Yunho says, brushing away the hair matted to San’s forehead. 

San whines, his chest heaving. God, all day? San isn’t sure he can last even five more minutes. 

“When you’re blessed with the kind of powers and constitution that we are, you’d be amazed at the amount of stamina that comes with it,” Yunho continues. “But I’m not that cruel. We can really put your stamina to the test next time. For now, I’ll go easy on you,” Yunho mutters against the shell of his ear, before pressing a sweet kiss to the hair just behind his ear. Next time, San thinks. Shudders. 

“Who—“ San gasps at another hit against the sensitive bundle of nerves within, “who told you to go easy on me?” 

Yunho grunts, teeth grazing his ear. “You’ve got a real knack for provoking me, did you know that? But this isn’t the time for me to do everything I want to do to you. I need you to be able to walk if we’re going to take down Hyunwoo together, right?” 

San squeezes Yunho’s shoulder, nipping at his collarbone. His imagination stretches at the thought, and it gets a little out of hand when he thinks about all the things that Yunho might want to do to him, all the things that San wants him to do. He even feels his powers waver, threatening to leak out, but he claws them back. 

“This is just a taste, kitten. Once this is all over, I’ll show you things you’ll never forget.” 

Yunho’s pace starts to pick up, San moaning as the friction increases. As his hips snap against San, he sucks marks into the juncture of San’s shoulder and neck. San starts to babble incoherently as the pace increases further, and with each thrust he’s pushed just a little higher up the bed, the force of it making the headboard knock loudly against the wall. 

The sound of Yunho’s ragged breathing in his ear is driving him insane. He’s never really seen Yunho so… affected before. Yunho is usually calm and collected, moving through the world like it’s the easiest thing in the universe for him. Even when San injures him in their fights, he hardly ever lets on and certainly never loses his cool. No matter what, he always maintains that laidback smirk, and has made it his goal to infinitely annoy San. 

But in the last couple of days, he’s just been weird— weirder than usual, that is—and San doesn’t really know what to think of it. During some moments, Yunho is incredibly serious, and San can tell there’s something he’s pushing down under the surface, but then in the next breath he returns to that carefree demeanour, teasing San as he pleases.  And now, he’s in a state that San never thought he’d see, a state that’s so much more raw than the carefully manicured persona he portrays to the outside world. 

Yunho drops his head and curses under his breath, a knot forming between his eyebrows. San removes his hands from Yunho’s back, moving them until he’s cradling Yunho’s face, lifting Yunho’s head so that San can meet his eyes. He’s not exactly sure what compels him to do so, and the gesture feels oddly intimate, but there’s a need in him to see Yunho’s expression as he approaches the edge. It’s like he’s seeing Yunho for the first time, and in this moment they aren’t arch-nemeses. San isn’t a superhero and Yunho isn’t a villain. They’re just two people, lost in the throes of pleasure and ecstasy, and San has never felt more alive.

San jerks when he feels Yunho’s fingers wrap around his sensitive cock, his fist pumping with each thrust. San whimpers, eyes almost falling closed as the sensation overwhelms him. “Close,” he mumbles, “so close.” 

San squeezes his thighs tighter around Yunho’s body, clenching down as he nears his release. “Fuck,” he hears Yunho hiss, forehead coming down to press against San’s. Their hot breaths mix and mingle, Yunho’s lower-pitched moans and grunts harmonizing with San’s higher pitched ones. 

When Yunho’s thumb brushes over his slit, just as his cock drags across the sensitive bundle of nerves just over his prostate, San feels the tension coil again in his deep abdomen, coiling and coiling before releasing violently like a spring. 

He comes hard, vision blurring. As his release hits him, harder than he’s ever experienced before, he unintentionally clenches down around Yunho. With a stuttering breath, Yunho pulls out quickly, cum splattering all over San’s abdomen. 

For several moments, they just lie there, chests heaving in perfect sync as they attempt to catch their breaths. The energy within San ebbs and flows, his powers slipping from his control slightly as he’s lost in his high. His illusions bathe the room in a warm glow, colours of every wavelength undulating evenly. 

Yunho leans down once more, kissing him softly. It’s impossibly tender, the kind of kiss that makes San’s entire body vibrate. San brushes his thumbs over Yunho’s cheekbones, his fingertips brushing along the wet ends of Yunho’s disheveled hair. 

Eventually, Yunho pulls away, leaving San a little breathless. His gaze drifts down to San’s abdomen and San’s eyes follow, his toes curling when he sees the ropes of cum covering his belly. Knowing that it’s a mix of both his and Yunho’s cum is a dizzying realization, and San watches as Yunho runs his hand along San’s torso, smearing the thick, white substance over his honey skin.

San’s hands fall away from Yunho’s face, his limbs melting into jelly. His tongue darts out to swipe along his bottom lip, the movement catching Yunho’s eye. Yunho brings his hand back up, now covered in sticky cum, and he presents his palm to San, hand hovering just centimetres away from him. In his post-orgasm stupor, San doesn’t think twice about tipping his chin up and giving Yunho’s palm and fingers little kitten licks. The taste is bitter and not at all what San thought it would be, but with the way Yunho is looking at him right now—pupils blown, gaze hungry and dark—he can’t find it in himself to care. 

When Yunho’s hand is licked clean, he growls, diving forward to kiss San again with returned fervour. San just whimpers, helpless to do anything else under him. His lips are sore like they’re bruised, and San gently thuds a fist against Yunho’s shoulder in protest. 

Yunho pulls away once more, then presses a kiss to San’s forehead. “You did a good job, kitten,” he whispers, petting San’s hair gently.

San melts, his powers stretching even further as he’s overcome with emotions. The rainbow of colours that had been spreading through the room starts to materialise into proper illusions, and suddenly they’re in a serene field, and San is lying in a bed of wildflowers and clovers. Above, the sky is blue and the sun bathes San in the warmth of a summer day. 

Yunho lifts his head, glancing around them. He smiles, looks back at San whose sweat-slick skin glistens in the sunlight. “Your illusions are always so beautiful,” he murmurs. 

“Thought you always said I needed better illusions,” San drawls.

“I’ve only ever told you that your illusions don’t work on me, because they don’t. And they never will.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Like I said before, I understand you. I can see through all of your illusions.” 

San rolls his eyes, pouting a little. “You get on my nerves, you know that?” 

Yunho ducks his head down, chuckling as he rests his forehead against San’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

After another few moments, San feels his power waning and his illusion starts to dissipate. Then Yunho peels away from San, moving to the bathroom while San stretches out his legs on the bed, hips still trembling. He hears the sound of running water, before Yunho returns holding a damp towel that he uses to wipe San down with. 

He should feel horrified, he thinks. The regret is supposed to be sinking in and he’s supposed to feel the desire to run away from all of this. But all he feels is warmth and pleasant flutterings of butterflies in his belly as Yunho reverently cleans him off. He even feels his eyelids drifting closed, the post-orgasm bliss eating away at his consciousness. 

He eventually drifts off when he feels Yunho press kisses to his temple and cheekbone, a cozy blanket pulled over his waist.

Chapter Text

The next time San wakes, he smells cooked meat along with the faint smell of smoke. He rubs his eyes as he comes to, slowly pushing himself upright in bed. In the warm glow of the oil lamps, San sees Yunho in the kitchen, back turned. He’s standing in front of the woodfire stove, now lit, and he’s humming a faint tune. 

San takes stock of himself, noting the ache in his hips and thighs and the slight scratch in his throat. He swings his legs out of bed, testing their ability to hold him upright. His legs tremble slightly as he stands, and he has to catch himself on the wall when he stumbles forward. 

The sound alerts Yunho, who glances over his shoulder. “Looking a little shaky there, kitten. Need me to feed you in bed?” 

San glares at him. He straightens, forcing himself to walk like a normal human being as he makes his way to the kitchen. He’s only half-successful, his legs moving slowly and purposefully almost like a robot. He slides into a chair at the dining table, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up a little. 

Awkwardly, San nibbles at his bottom lip as he watches Yunho work away at the stove. Should he say something? But then, what would he even say? ‘ What are we?’ San cringes at the thought—he’s not a teenager, and this is not a relationship. Ugh. 

Eventually, Yunho turns, holding two bowls of food. He places one in front of San, then takes the seat on the opposite side of the table. It’s rabbit stew, likely the rabbits that Yunho had caught earlier. Before they… well, before they did all that. 

San picks up the spoon, the tips of his ears cherry red, and dips it into the stew. He’s never had rabbit before, but it’s not bad, so he digs in. “What time is it anyway?” 

Yunho slurps away at his stew, lifting his wrist to check his watch. The movement is smooth and San’s eyes follow Yunho’s hand, swallowing when he thinks about how those long fingers felt inside of him just hours ago. He flushes, eyes darting away as Yunho continues, “It’s three-twenty in the afternoon,” Yunho answers. 

San’s eyes widen a bit. “Jesus. Really? Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Yunho shrugs. “Well, I was about to once I’d finished cooking, but you beat me to it. And I figured you deserved the rest anyway.” 

San blinks, ducking his head slightly. “Well, you should have woken me up. I don’t need to sleep around all day when there’s so much to be done,” San mumbles. 

Yunho raises his eyebrows, his gaze playful. “I know you’ve got a less than stellar impression of me, but I’m not so cruel as to wake someone after that kind of workout.” 

San narrows his eyes. “Do you think I’m weak?” 

Yunho leans back in his chair a little, shaking his head noncommittally. “No, but you’re much easier to handle when you’re sleeping.”

San scoffs. “I don’t need to be ‘handled.’” 

Yunho continues to slurp at his stew, ignoring San outright. Annoyed, San nearly soars out of his seat and across the table to grab Yunho by the collar, but he restrains himself, shoveling the rest of the stew into his mouth until his bowl is clean instead. When he’s done, he grabs his own bowl and snatches Yunho’s empty bowl from his hand, stomping over to the sink where he scrubs them clean while Yunho watches him in amusement. 

When the dishes are clean, he turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “So, what can you tell me about this Hyunwoo guy?” 

Yunho sighs, reaching into his jacket for something. He produces a phone, on which he types in the longest password San thinks he’s ever seen before turning the phone toward San and placing it facing up on the dining table. San approaches, leaning over to see the holographic that projects from the phone. 

There’s a picture of a young man with a scar cutting across his left eye, but otherwise he’s unassuming and unremarkable to look at. San certainly is sure he’s never seen him before. “This is Kim Hyunwoo. He’s the heir of an oil tycoon with ties to organised crime.”

“You said he’s been moving mostly underground up until now, right?” 

Yunho nods. “From what I can gather, the son seems incredibly interested in neurotechnology. He’s been building relationships with several labs who specialise in studying and developing certain neurotech devices.”

San frowns. He can tell where this is going. “Am I right to assume that these neurotech devices are related to brainwashing of some sort?” 

“Kitty’s figuring it out.” 

“I thought you wanted to work together. Sounds like you’d rather I just punch you instead?” 

Yunho throws his hands up in surrender. “So feisty.” 

San leans forward, eyes narrowed, and Yunho chuckles before continuing, “Alright, alright. Yes, they’re devices that were being developed for warfare, but the programs were shut down quickly because of the more than… questionable ethics.” 

San scoffs. “A villain talking about questionable ethics. Very funny.” 

Yunho shrugs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his leg over his thigh. “It takes some questionable ethics to recognise questionable ethics. Besides, I don’t care much for brainwashing. It takes the fun out of everything.”

“ You don’t care for brainwashing? As if putting on the charm and manipulating people isn’t just a different form of brainwashing,” San retorts, rolling his eyes. 

Yunho grins, a terrible glint in his eye. “So you think I’m charming?” 

San’s eyes widen, his jaw hanging open slightly. “What? No, that’s not what I said—” 

“You don’t have to be coy, kitten. I’ve seen all of you, so no point in being shy now.” 

San sputters, the back of his neck flushing a deep red. “What the— what are you even talking about—” San cuts himself off, too flustered to continue. 

Yunho’s eyes widen slightly, the smirk slipping. “You had some big talk this morning, but now you can hardly form a sentence. Don’t tell me you’re actually embarrassed.” 

San huffs, turning his head and averting his eyes. “No —” 

“But you’re blushing like a virgin—” 

San flinches, eyes widening so much that they’re nearly bulging out of his skull. He glances at Yunho in his peripheral vision to see why he’d cut off, and he’s a little taken aback when he sees genuine shock on Yunho’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re actually—”

“ Shut up! Can we get back on topic here?” San snaps, his entire body burning red now. God, he doesn’t need Yunho making fun of him for being a virgin (or former virgin, he supposes) now. After all this is over, he’ll just have to murder Yunho and then he will never have to think about this ever again. 

Stunned, Yunho deflates. San marches on, not wanting to give Yunho even the slightest chance to tease him any further. “So Hyunwoo’s interested in brainwashing. Classic villain stuff. What does that have to do with me specifically?”

Yunho blinks, still a bit dumbfounded, but he eventually seems to recover. “That’s the part I’m not sure about.” 

San holds his chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to think of some sort of connection. Sure, San is the kind of guy you’d want out of the picture so you’d be free to do whatever nefarious deeds you’d planned. But why bother kidnapping him? Clearly they need something from him, because otherwise they’d just try to kill him. 

Or was it really ransom they were after? Jokes on them—the government wouldn’t waste a cent on a superhero who would ever let themselves get caught. He might be the city’s smiling poster boy now, but if he gets kidnapped then he’s useless to them, and the Academy will just replace him with their next prodigy. 

“Whatever their reason, there’s no point sitting around. We should go after Hyunwoo before he does real damage. You said he’s waiting in the city for me?” 

“He’s got affiliates posted there, but I don’t think he’s there himself. It’s more than likely that he’s at that abandoned prison you were held in, waiting to send his goons once you start heading towards the city.” 

“Does he have powers of any sort?” 

Yunho shakes his head. “Not from what I can tell. Just guns, knives, and lots of money and henchmen.” 

“If we take them by surprise, then I doubt they’d be able to fight back very hard. His henchmen are idiots at best, and I doubt they’d expect us to go right to them. Plus, you do your best work in complete darkness so we’ll go in the middle of the night.” 

“You’re full of compliments for me today. First you say I’m charming, now you say I do good work at night—although, clearly I do my best work in the morning if your limp is anything to go by—“

San fumes, spinning to swipe the machete Yunho had used earlier to prep the rabbits from the sink and throws it at Yunho.

The blade is too heavy and unbalanced to fly through the air in any sort of straight line, and Yunho catches it easily by the handle. He spins the machete in his long, spindly fingers and slams the knife down hard on the dining table, the blade miraculously lodging into the wood. 

“Can you ever just shut the fuck up? ” San growls. “Fuck this, I’ll just go after him myself.” 

San expects Yunho to retort, to grin and chide San for being such a poor thrower. But that oddly serious expression is back on Yunho’s face and San twitches, goosebumps bubbling along his arms. The suddenness of his mood change nearly gives San whiplash, and he fights the urge to take a step back. 

“Don’t go after him alone,” Yunho says, voice low. 

“And why is that? I’m not drugged anymore, I can handle him on my own.” 

“San, trust me. If you go—” Yunho’s jaw clenches, the words stuck in his throat. San searches his face, trying to decipher that dark look in his eyes, but he can’t figure it out. 

“Trust you? How can I trust when you’re constantly playing these mind games with me?”

Yunho looks at him, his lip twitching. “Mind games?”

San’s chest tightens. Yunho is looking at him like the knife San had thrown at him had instead landed straight in his heart. “You save me, then you break me out. Then you tell me that it’s because you don’t like people messing with your ‘projects,’ whatever the fuck that means. Then you—” San cuts off, that bright red flush blooming beneath his skin renewed. “Then you—we—did that and… the things you said to me about letting go, calling me beautiful. Then you go back to that stupid fucking smirk of yours and you tell me that I shouldn’t go after Hyunwoo because of what? Because you don’t think I can handle myself?” 

“That’s not what I said—”

“Right. Because you never say what you actually think. You just toy with people until they are no longer useful or fun. Well I have no intention of continuing to be your source of entertainment so you can just fuck off.” 

Yunho plants his hands on the table and stands, his chair scraping across the floor. “You think I came here just for fun ? I broke every rule I have to come and make sure you were okay,” he says, voice raised.

San furrows his brows in confusion. “I don’t know what rules you’re talking about, but don’t pretend like you care about me. I’m just a ‘project,’ isn’t that right? I’m sure you’re just annoyed someone else is trying to fuck with your playthings.” 

Yunho shakes his head. “Just forget I even said that. You’re not a plaything, San, and I have my reasons for being so invested.”

“Which are?” San asks, fingernails digging into his palm as he clenches his fist hard by his side. 

Yunho’s expression darkens, the conflict apparent, yet San is unsure what is causing it. All he knows is that the look in Yunho’s eyes is making it very hard for San to breathe. “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “Just… don’t go on your own. I know very well that you can handle yourself, but it’s not a good idea this time.”

“Why’s that?” 

“I just… have a bad feeling, alright?” 

San’s lip twitches, threatening to curl up in an accusatory snarl. “You’re hiding something. What, do you have some sort of connection to Hyunwoo? Is that how you’ve gathered your intel? Is that how you’re so sure I shouldn’t go on my own?”

Yunho’s expression is steely and imposing, his displeasure apparent. “As if I would work with a rich brat like Hyunwoo. We’ve gone over this—I work alone. ” 

San does know that, but right now he’s confused and unsure of himself. Why is Yunho doing all of this? Why does Yunho seem to understand him inherently, yet he’s constantly confounded by Yunho no matter how hard he tries to make sense of it? And why does San even care? 

“You may not ‘work’ together, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have something to gain from forming some sort of partnership from someone with as much money as Hyunwoo.”

Yunho huffs, his head falling forward a little, hair shrouding his eyes. “Rich brats like Hyunwoo are exactly the problem with the world, so why would I ever work with someone like that? I rob banks to give money back to the people who deserve it, not to make my pockets bigger.” 

San laughs in disbelief. “You want me to believe that you’re some modern day Robin Hood?”

Yunho looks up again, jaw tight. “I never expected that I could change your mind about me, but fuck, it still hurts,” he mutters to himself, voice so low that San almost doesn’t hear him. 

San watches Yunho, catches a glint of genuine hurt in his eyes and in the way his bottom lip trembles ever so slightly. 

He and Yunho have gone back and forth at each other for years—standing off against one another constantly like a pair of twin stars stuck within each other’s orbit. San had always thought he was just ill-fated, and that Yunho was a thorn in his side he’d never be able to remove. And that electricity between them? It’s always been there, San realises, but he’d ignored it willfully—it was just easier that way, really. 

Now, San feels the discomfort crawling under his skin. In the last few days, he’d seen a side of Yunho he’d never witnessed before, and it had thrown him for a loop. He feels like he’s standing on uneven ground, constantly swaying and lurching back and forth while he stumbles and fights to regain his balance. And now, seeing the hurt in Yunho’s eyes, he feels like he’s been flipped upside down, the blood rushing to his head as he struggles to make sense of everything. 

Dumbfounded, San just stares at Yunho, who is running his long fingers through his hair, his other hand on his hip as he closes his eyes and takes an exasperated breath. When he opens his eyes, San can’t help but think he looks tired. 

“This has gone off the rails. Let’s just plan our attack. Then we’ll get some rest and go tomorrow,” Yunho says, walking over to a drawer and grabbing some scrap paper and a marker before placing it on the dining table and leaning over it, quickly sketching out the perimeters of the abandoned prison. 

San swallows, slowly stepping towards the table to lean over and watch Yunho draw. Yunho starts to ramble off a plan, noting several entry points and spots that Hyunwoo could be hiding in, but San is only half-listening. Instead, he’s watching Yunho carefully, eye catching on a twitch in Yunho’s jaw muscle, still held taut from a storm of emotions that San can’t decipher. 

San shifts, the uneasiness in his belly curling until he feels bile climbing up his throat. He’s not sure why Yunho is affecting him so much, and why all he can think about right now is reaching over and smoothing his thumb over Yunho’s fair skin, pulling his chin up and stepping closer so that he can press his lips to Yunho’s and whisper, “I’m sorry.” 

San bites his lip, turning his eyes back down towards the piece of paper Yunho is scribbling on. What is happening to him? 

///

They set a tentative plan—or, Yunho tells him a plan and San just nods along dumbly—and then Yunho marches over to the couch without another word and kicks his feet up, his arm coming up to rest over his eyes. San makes his way over to the bed, crawling under the covers. For a while, he just lies there, hyper aware of Yunho’s presence in the room and the dark cloud that seems to be hanging over him. 

It’s only now that San realises he’s never actually seen Yunho angry until this point. The closest he’s been is when Yunho first kicked open that cell door, and San thought that had been it. And at the time, San had just been confused—confused why he was seeing Yunho, confused why Yunho seemed so annoyed. Yunho had continued to confuse him, teasing him as usual one moment then becoming incredibly serious the next. Then doing all of that to him—with him. But now San realises that this is what anger truly looks like on Yunho—calm, stoic, but underneath San can feel something awful festering. He loses all interest in teasing San, or bothering to put on that stupid smirk of his. Instead, he’s like a walking bomb and San isn’t sure if he wants to see it go off. 

San tosses and turns in bed, his mind racing. He analyses every interaction he’s had with Yunho, then and now, tries to piece together what it all means. What is Yunho really thinking underneath all of the charm and the swagger? And why does San want so desperately to figure it all out? 

Eventually, San seems to tire himself out and he starts to doze (as if he hadn’t already slept nearly the entire day away). Tonight, unlike all other nights, he isn’t forced to relive the worst moments of his life, nor is he forced to face every failure and every mistake he’s made. Instead, he dreams of being surrounded by darkness as he’s overcome with an existential feeling of dread, so overwhelming and strong that he feels like it’s ripping the air from his lungs. He clutches at his throat, trying to scream into the unending darkness, but with no breath in his lungs he’s unable to produce any sound. 

Help me! He wants to scream. Please, I’m stuck here! 

But no matter how hard he tries, he’s unable to produce a sound. Realising that he’ll never be able to call for someone, he instead tries to walk, but again he’s thwarted. He tries to lift his leg but the limb won’t budge, as if stuck in a thick tar. The more he tries to move and the more he struggles, the further he’s pulled down, until the tar is up to his chin. He stretches his hand out, fingers straining as the tar rises and rises, his mouth and nose now submerged. 

He hears something—a whisper. No, an echo. It’s faint, like it’s coming from miles away, but San clings to it. He claws through the tar, pumping his legs with every ounce of strength he has to free himself of the viscous and oppressive liquid. 

The voice grows louder, little by little. “San,” it says. 

I’m here! He wants to shout, but still his voice latches itself to the walls of his throat, unyielding. 

“San,” the voice says again, this time clearer. Closer. 

Yunho? San asks, voiceless. 

“I’m here,” Yunho says. His voice is soft and sure as he speaks to him, like San is something precious. “I’m right here.”

I can’t see you! San cries. 

“I’m here.”

Don’t leave me. Please, Yunho, don’t leave me! San pleads, but he’s unable to reach Yunho. The tar rises again, covering his eyes, and suddenly he’s pulled under completely. He chokes on the weight of it, feels his lungs collapse under the pressure of it all. His chest burns and his throat constricts further and there are tears in his eyes as he flails his limbs, his movements sluggish and stilted in the thick liquid. 

Someone must come for him, right? Just like Yunho had pulled him out of his nightmares the night before, someone will come. 

But no one does. San drowns in the nightmare, feels every excruciating moment as he slowly suffocates. There’s no one coming to save you, he tells himself. How could you expect to be saved when you yourself are unable to save anyone? 

///

The nightmare stretches on for hours, and when San finally wakes, it’s in a cold sweat. He gasps for air, as if he truly had been drowning, and he whips his head around frantically, expecting the dark void of his dream. But instead, he’s met with the quiet serenity of the cabin. 

His racing heart slows gradually, until he’s left with a rhythmic and even thudding. He slowly swings his legs out of bed, carefully planting the soles of his feet on the cool wooden floor. With a breath, he pushes himself up to standing. He pads over to the couch, breath hitching when he sees that Yunho is there this time, his long limbs stretching over the upholstery, feet dangling off the end. 

San tiptoes closer, examining Yunho’s face. His eyes are closed, his breathing even and deep, but there’s a furrow between his brows. Carefully, San reaches out, brushing the pad of his thumb ever so gently over his forehead. San nearly jumps out of his skin when Yunho shifts, but thankfully Yunho doesn’t wake. The knot between his brows smoothes and San retracts his hand, sighing in relief. 

He’s not sure exactly why he’s so averse to having Yunho wake up on him, but with the way they left it last night, he can’t help but feel uneasy right now. He feels bad which is utterly ridiculous considering they’re enemies, but still, San is only human. And apparently Yunho is, too—apparently he’s capable of feeling hurt and angry, and San feels like the biggest dick in the world for not seeing that before. 

San backs away slowly. Whatever complicated feelings these are, he’s not sure he can even begin to process them here, not with the very object of all of his confusion sleeping peacefully right in front of him. So he slowly edges towards the front door, hoping that this time he’ll be able to open it. Fresh air is often a remedy for emotional turmoil, right? 

San sighs in relief when the door handle gives way, and he carefully pushes it open, slipping into a pair of shoes. He glances back at the couch again, checking to make sure Yunho’s still asleep, and when he sees that Yunho has barely budged, he steps outside and closes the door behind him. 

San stumbles out into the woods, breathing in the fresh scent of pine and the aftermath of rain. After being stuck in a log cabin for two days, and in a jail cell for a few days even before that, San can barely begin to describe just how good it feels to be outside again. He takes another deep breath, then sets off away from the log cabin. He won’t stray too far, but a little walk can’t hurt. 

For a while, he just walks, taking note of the cabin’s location so he doesn’t lose himself. Now, in the morning light, he can see just how far the dense forest stretches and he can imagine that if someone wasn’t careful, they’d get turned around pretty quickly. 

Eventually, San finds a small clearing, a fallen trunk laying in the middle. He walks over and takes a seat on it, running his fingers through his hair as he sighs heavily. As he sits, he starts to replay the memories of the night before. Why had Yunho been so insistent on San not going alone? Why had he even been so insistent on working together in the first place? 

San’s got lots of questions, and not a lot of answers. And the most confusing part of it all is that San has no idea what his own feelings are. He can’t figure out Yunho, and that’s always been true, but why can’t he even figure out himself? Why is it that Yunho’s affecting him so much, when he shouldn’t care at all about what Yunho thinks of him? Yunho’s always gotten on his nerves to say the least, but there’s more to it than just that and San may have denied it fully before, but he can’t really deny it now. Not when he’s literally had Yunho’s dick in him— that is certainly not something you do with just any arch nemesis. 

The worst part is that San can’t even blame it on Yunho’s charm, or his expert manipulation. He may be playing San like a fiddle, but it’s San who is letting himself get played so easily. San isn’t an ordinary person—he’s well aware of how Yunho operates, how he fights, and San isn’t someone easily manipulated. So, really, he can’t blame it on Yunho. Only himself.

Groaning, San lets his head fall into his hands. “Oh fuck,” he mumbles to himself. “I’m so fucked up.” 

And somehow even worse, San can’t get the feeling of Yunho against him out of his head. Despite everything, despite all the confusion and the turmoil, San can’t deny the primal need he has for Yunho. It’s something he’s always tried to ignore and pretend like it wasn’t happening, the images and thoughts locked away in the far depths of his mind, but now that he’s gotten a true taste he finds he just wants more. He can’t pretend that kissing Yunho is just some fucked up fantasy his brain sometimes conjures in dreams, or that the electric feeling between them when they’re clashing is just a figment of San’s imagination. All he can do now is accept the fact that he actually is that fucked up and deprived, apparently. 

The sound of a branch snapping pulls San out of his thoughts. San stands, glancing around, but the forest is too dense for him to see much of anything. An animal, perhaps? Yunho? 

But San’s nerves fire in anticipation, every muscle in his body tensing. “No point hiding,” San calls out. “I know you’re there.”

A moment passes, San scanning the environment for any sign of movement. Then, he hears rustling from behind him and his senses flare, instincts taking over as he dodges to the left. 

A bolt soars past him, protruding from the ground at a severe angle just to his right. Another bolt is launched to his left and San ducks, the bolt piercing a nearby tree trunk with a loud thud. Then figures emerge from the treeline, dressed in black ninja gear with crows stitched into the fabric of their garb. San rolls his eyes, dodging with ease as various men throw themselves at him. 

“Oh, so you’re all back, I see,” San says, spinning just as another bolt whizzes overhead. He kicks, foot connecting with the jaw of one of the thugs, who collapses to the floor, knocked out instantly. There’s a fair amount of them, maybe thirteen to fifteen by San’s count, but they’re as sloppy as they’d been before. Now, with his energy renewed and the drugs out of his system, San holds them off easily. 

San gathers the energy within him, his powers stretching out. The air shimmers around him, his illusions taking the form of multiple copies of himself. The men are confused easily, and San dances around them, switching places with his illusionary selves until the men can no longer discern which one is real and which is not. 

With the men off guard, San makes quick work of them, landing kicks and punches until several of them are downed. More bolts fly through the air, and San frowns. There’s more around him, of course, but they’re not keen on showing themselves yet. One of the men still standing runs towards an illusion, and San cuts him off by sticking his arm out to the side, colliding with the man’s throat. San tosses him to the ground with a grunt, then turns to the last standing survivor. 

Just as he’s about to go after him, San hears a piercing sound from the treeline. Several birds squawk and take off into the sky, their peace disturbed by the loud and almost painful sound. San wobbles for just a moment, but before he’s able to regain his balance he feels something shift in the air. 

He’s hit suddenly by a wave of energy, and as it washes over him he feels like he’s being swept off his feet from the force of it. San grunts, planting his feet into the forest floor as he tries to steady himself. In the aftermath of the energy wave, San knows that something is severely wrong. He feels it in the way every nerve in his body lights up like firestarters, the flames crackling along his nerve endings until he feels like he’s being hit with thousands of bolts of lightning. 

San gasps, body convulsing. His powers react violently and he feels them amplify, stretching out further and further. He grasps at them desperately, trying to wrangle as much control as he can. It’s a feeling similar to when he’s too tired to control everything, or when he was on those drugs. But this time it’s amplified a hundred fold, so powerful that San feels like his heart is going to burst from the strain. 

Each of his illusions start to bubble, skin stretching as the pressure within builds and expands. It’s a horrifying scene, to see himself bloating up to such an extreme degree that the skin starts to tear and pull, blood vessels bursting as muscles and sinew continue to swell. San squeezes his eyes shut, hands clutching at his temples as the pressure within his head grows and grows. 

When the pressure becomes too much, each illusion pops in an explosion of blood and gore. San screams, stumbling and falling to his knees as his emotions start to bubble. It’s as if someone is reaching down his throat, grasping every fear and twisted desire from the depths of his soul, before ripping them from him. 

San’s knees hit the ground, but they don’t hit the soft forest floor like he expects. Instead, they land with a squelch, the almost spongy texture making him gag. When he opens his eyes, he sees a mass of flesh covering the ground, all red and sticky with blood. San sinks into it, head whipping around as he tries to understand what’s happening. Eyes emerge from the flesh—hundreds of them, all looking at San as he sinks further into the mass of flesh. 

San keels over, vomiting violently as he tries not to look at the sea of eyes around him. “ You’re our hero!” they seem to say. “Our city rests in your hands!” 

“Save us!” 

“You’re our only hope!” 

San cries out, shaking his head. “No,” he cries. “Stop— stop looking at me!” 

The eyes never stop looking. They start to move, the flesh bubbling as each pair of eyes grows a face, then a head, then a torso and limbs, and suddenly there are hundreds of dead bodies piled on each other. It’s a familiar scene, a reminder of every single person he’s lost. 

“Why didn’t you save me?” a man asks, a gunshot wound through his head. San recognises him—an older man, victim to a burglary gone wrong. San hadn’t gotten there in time, too busy saving a woman from a nearby car accident on his way to the scene. 

“Why didn’t you save me?” a child asks, their face charred beyond recognition. They’d died in a building fire, despite San’s attempts to remove them. He hadn’t been quick enough, and the child succumbed before they’d even made it out of the building. 

“Why didn’t you save me?” a woman asks, her neck twisted unnaturally. She’d fallen off a bridge after it had been blown up by a villain hellbent on destroying the city. Only a few had made it off that bridge alive, and it haunts San every day. 

The voices overlap, echoing each other as they all chant, “Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you save me?” 

San tries to block his ears, the voices so loud he feels like his eardrums might burst. He tries again to claw back his powers, trying to picture something, anything that could calm him down. 

The air around him shimmers again, the illusion morphing once more. San watches with wide eyes as a figure emerges from the masses of flesh. The figure is completely covered in blood, a faceless silhouette among the horror. But when the blood starts to drip away, a familiar face is revealed. 

“Yunho!” San calls out, gasping. His hands fall away from his ears, hanging limply by his side. 

Yunho tilts his head, grinning at San. “What are you doing, San?” he asks, starting towards him. His boots sink into the thick flesh and blood at his feet, but he seems to care little. 

“Yunho, I—” San’s voice shakes and he reaches forward as Yunho approaches. 

“Are you scared?” Yunho asks. 

San nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Oh, you poor thing. So scared, so alone,” Yunho croons. 

San shudders. Yunho steps close enough that San’s hand finally comes into contact with his chest, shimmering in the morning light where San’s skin touches Yunho’s shirt. The illusion is strong enough that it’s almost as if it’s physically there, but San knows that if he presses any harder, his hand will phase right through. 

Somehow, he doesn’t care. The moment he touches Yunho, he feels the whirlwind of emotions flare, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling Yunho close and burrowing into his embrace. 

“Don’t leave me,” San whispers. Begs. 

Yunho—the illusion of him—reaches up to cup San’s cheek, but San never feels it, like there’s an invisible barrier between them. “Oh, San. Kitten. ”

Then Yunho starts to step away, and when San reaches forward again to grasp at his jacket, his hand passes right through Yunho’s body, fingers grasping at nothing but an illusion. 

“Don’t leave me, Yunho. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I made you mad,” San pleads, barely noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks. 

With every fear unearthed, there comes desire, the two emotions so closely entwined. For what is a greater fear than losing what you desire most?

Yunho shakes his head, his smile never fading. “You’re always denying yourself. Lying to yourself. But don’t you realise I’ve been playing with you this whole time? I’ve never cared about you.” 

And San knows that. Of course he does, and he shouldn’t be surprised because that’s what their relationship has always been—Yunho causing trouble, only for San to come chasing after him just to have Yunho tease him endlessly. And despite denying it over and over, San knows deep down that he’s always craved the interaction. Craved the attention. 

Funny, San thinks, because all he gets is attention. But no one is like Yunho. No one actually sees San for who he is, and maybe it’s just a fantasy that San is projecting onto Yunho, but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone you didn’t have to perform in front of? Didn’t have to pretend to be a hero, to be a good person. 

“I don’t care about any of that. Play with me, use me, I don’t care! Just don’t—don’t leave me.” 

Yunho continues to back away, disappearing past the treeline. Once he’s gone, another ear piercing sound rings out in the forest, and San feels another surge within him. It spills over, his powers going haywire as he’s overcome with unbridled terror. 

His illusions grow even stronger, trapping him. He loses his sense of self completely, and with every illusion, he slips even further and further towards insanity. He’s not sure what’s happening to him, but he’s forgotten his assailants entirely, his mind so muddled with terror and pain that he’s unable to think straight. 

The morning sun crawls up the sky as San descends further into his own self-constructed madness. That ear piercing sound continues, and San doesn’t hear the rustling in the woods, or the sound of several shouts and grunts. 

“San!” 

San covers his ears again, trying to block out the awful sounds around him. 

“ San! ” 

Tendrils of shadow emerge from the treeline, whipping around violently as a figure sprints forward. It’s Yunho, his eyes frantic as he takes in the scene around him. He stumbles through the sea of tar and blood and flesh, stepping over decaying bodies of all the people San couldn’t save. 

“San!” he shouts, black smoke and shadow curling around him as he fends off crossbow bolts flying at him. Black, shadowy figures sprout from the ground, deflecting the incoming assault. 

San looks at Yunho, his expression contorted with despair. Another illusion, he thinks. “No,” San mumbles, shaking his head. He covers his ears again, pressing hard into his skull in a desperate attempt to block out every sound bombarding him. 

Yunho grunts, looking down when he feels hands grabbing at his ankles. The bodies—in various states of decay—reach for him, their eyes filled with sorrow and fear. Yunho kicks them off, fighting his way through the sea of gore towards San. 

“San! San, it’s me,” Yunho shouts. 

San shakes his head. “No, no, stop. You’re not real.”

“I’m real, San. It’s me, ” Yunho says, stepping closer to San. 

“Stop, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do it,” San sobs. 

“San, you can trust me,” Yunho says, holding his hand out. 

“No, you—you’re going to leave again. Everyone’s going to leave me.” 

“I’m not leaving, San. I’m here.” 

“Don’t listen,” San mumbles to himself. 

“San!” Yunho shouts, voice louder than San has ever heard. San’s head snaps up and he’s surprised to see his own fear mirrored in Yunho’s eyes. Yunho looks disheveled, his usually perfect hair matted along his forehead and his face flushed as he pants. 

Yunho reaches out, grabbing San’s hands and pulling them from his ears. His touch is solid and electrifying, and San gasps as Yunho tugs. He stumbles forward, landing just inches away from Yunho. 

“I’m real,” he says, his voice desperate. He lets go of San’s wrists, only to cup his cheeks and tilt his chin upwards. “I’m real,” he repeats. 

The look in Yunho’s eyes is staggering. San’s bottom lip trembles, his heart swelling in his chest as Yunho gazes down at him. “Forget everything else, San. Just look at me.” 

“Yunho? Is it really you this time?” San whispers. 

Yunho nods, leaning closer. “It’s okay, San. I’m real. This is real.” 

When their lips connect, San gasps like he’s breathing air for the first time. He leans into it, desperate for Yunho’s touch, clinging to his heat. As they kiss, San feels everything around him still, and each sense fills with Yunho’s taste, his touch, the sound of their heartbeats thumping against their chests.

San’s fingers find their way to Yunho’s wrists, gripping them like he’s holding on for dear life. Around him, the air wavers and shimmers, before the illusions start to dissipate. When Yunho pulls away, San sees that he’s back in the forest, the sun shining bright above them. 

San exhales, his powers retracting as the storm of emotions calms, and all San can see is the way Yunho is looking at him like he’s something precious.

“How—how did you do that?” San whispers.

Yunho presses their foreheads together, sucking in a deep breath. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not leaving you.” 

San bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?” 

“You haven’t realised it yet?” Yunho asks, brushing his thumb gently over San’s cheekbone. “I need you, San. Life means nothing without you in it. So you have to stay with me, okay? Forget about all your fears—just keep looking at me and me alone. I will protect you.”

“What are you saying?” San asks, holding his breath. His heart races in his chest, this time not from fear but from joy.

“I’m saying that I love you .” 

San gasps, fingers flexing into Yunho’s wrists. When he looks at Yunho this time, he fears the worst—that Yunho will be looking at him with that mischievous smirk, confirming that this is still just a game to him—but all he sees is sincerity. Honesty. Vulnerability.

The sound of clapping pulls San out of his stupor. They both turn, watching as a young man dressed in a suit, a crow brooch pinned to his lapel and a scar across his eye, walks out into the clearing. San recognizes the young man as the one Yunho had shown him the night before. Hyunwoo.

“Very touching,” he says mockingly. “But I don’t have the patience for this.” 

“Hyunwoo,” Yunho snarls. “What is it that you’re after?” 

Hyunwoo smirks, but unlike Yunho’s handsome and playful smirk that makes San’s heart skip a beat, Hyunwoo’s is slimy and just makes San’s skin crawl. “I’ve got business with San,” he answers. “Business that’s been rudely interrupted multiple times now.”

“And what business could that possibly be?” Yunho turns his body fully, partially blocking San in a defensive stance. San narrows his eyes as Hyunwoo stops just feet in front of them, and his eyes drift down to a small black device held in his palm.

“I know you’ve been poking around where you shouldn’t be, Jeong Yunho. Shouldn’t you have figured it out already?” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, shadowy tendrils unfurling from his feet, black smoke rising in warning. “Using a device to overclock his powers, huh? Your goal is to use him, isn’t it?”

San’s lip curls back in disgust. Use him? That’s a new one. 

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes. “Scientists have dedicated their life's work to building machines to control people, yet none of them have ever truly been successful, especially not on a large scale. But what they didn’t know is that we have the solution right here—what better way to rule the world than with the power of illusions? Infinite power to bend reality to whatever one wishes—and all you have to do is poke a little bit.” 

Horrified, San feels his power bubbling again, anger rising to the surface. “I guess their work wasn’t completely useless, because they developed a truly remarkable device. You’d think that a device that amplifies one’s powers would be useless to me, but I could see the potential. You saw what just a little taste of this device can do, how powerful his illusions can be. Imagine that multiplied a hundred times over, and entire cities could be put under an illusion,” Hyunwoo continues.

San scoffs. “How would my illusions help you? Even if I could create illusions at that scale, they’d just cause chaos.” 

“There are lots of ways to control someone, Choi San. And once I control you, I control your powers. You’ll show the world what I want you to show.” 

San grimaces. “You’re a lunatic. Why are you only revealing yourself now?” 

Hyunwoo shrugs. “I meant to bide my time just a little longer, but looks like my henchmen got a little trigger happy when they saw you one day. I didn’t think they’d be able to capture you on their own, but I guess you weren’t as strong as everyone said. So, really, the opportunity fell into my lap.” 

“You’ll never get your way,” San growls. 

Hyunwoo grins, raising the black device in his hand and pressing down one of the many buttons. That ear piercing sound returns again and San whines softly, hands flying up to cover his ears again, but it’s futile. As the sound rises in pitch and volume, San trembles, and the emotions that had been quelled start to bubble again. 

Hardly flinching, Yunho reaches back, fingers finding San’s stomach, the heat of his palm burning through San’s clothes. It grounds him, and San takes a deep breath in, eyelashes fluttering as he watches Yunho lurch forward towards Hyunwoo. 

For a moment, San watches on as Yunho attempts to tackle Hyunwoo. He’s intercepted by another group of henchmen joining in the fight. Chaos erupts, Yunho fighting his way through hordes of henchmen that seem to just keep coming and coming, emerging from the forest with knives and guns and brass knuckles. 

The device in Hyunwoo’s hand continues to emit that awful sound, but as San watches Yunho fighting, he feels a surge within him. San starts forward, trying his best to focus on the sound of his shallow breaths, and he wills the energy within him to obey. 

If Hyunwoo is going to try and amplify his powers in an attempt to overwhelm him again, San will just use it to his advantage. He fights through the mess of emotions stirring, directing the overwhelming anger and fear towards Hyunwoo and Hyunwoo alone. 

The air shimmers again as San stretches his powers out. He grimaces, clenching teeth tight as the forest around him starts to change. San feeds on his own bubbling fear, the trees creaking as they start to grow taller and taller, reaching high into the sky. They begin to curve as they grow, the wood starting to rot as if time is being sped up, and after a few moments the canopies hang in towards the clearing, blocking the sun out completely. 

San fights through the strain. Hyunwoo glances around him, San’s fear so palpable through his illusions that he can see Hyunwoo start to visibly tremble. He leans into the fear this time, thinks about Yunho fighting for him, and the trees come to life, their branches whipping violently as they slap the ground with a thundering beat. Hyunwoo yelps when a branch reaches him, the wood curling around him and squeezing tight. 

Hyunwoo grunts and swears, pressing buttons desperately on his device. The ear piercing sound starts to recede, and San feels his powers start to wane along with it. All it does is slightly relieve the pressure pulsing in San’s skull, but San doesn’t relent. He grits his teeth harder, pools more power into his illusions, solidifying them. 

Hyunwoo swears louder as the tree branches squeeze, and when he realizes that turning the device down hasn’t achieved anything, he dials it back up again, pushing it even further past its limits. 

San’s heart thuds in his chest, the taste of blood in his mouth as he bites down hard to stop himself from screaming from the pain. As his powers surge again, his control on them loosening, the tree branches begin to morph, breaking off into large, wood brown spiders once they reach the forest floor. San recoils, his own fears nauseating to look at. He tries to weaponize it again, however, letting the spiders crowd around Hyunwoo’s legs.

Hyunwoo twists, face contorted in disgust. He frees his hand, pulling a gun from his belt, and begins shooting at the illusions. The bullets phase right through each spider and San dodges as a bullet flies by his head. 

“San!” 

San whips his head around, watching as Yunho takes full advantage of the illusionary dark he’s created, his shadows splitting into shadow figures, intercepting any henchmen that try to approach. Yunho is running, shadowy tendrils rising as he sets his sights on Hyunwoo. 

Several shadowy arms surge forward, one managing to knock the device out of Hyunwoo’s hand. San dives for it, smashing it into pieces with his boot. The ear piercing sound finally stops, and San inhales deeply at the relief. 

“Fuck!” Hyunwoo exclaims. 

He raises his gun, pointing it at Yunho, but another shadowy arm knocks it right out of his hand. San focuses harder, gaining control over his powers once more. The spiders fade, and instead he imagines roots curling around Hyunwoo’s feet, locking him in place.

Yunho launches towards him, fist connecting with his jaw with a disgusting crack. Yunho punches again and again, swinging his fist until Hyunwoo is a bloody mess. San glances around frantically, but most of the henchmen have fallen by now. 

Yunho roars as he continues his onslaught. San pants, his body starting to finally waver under the strain of having his powers surge so strongly for so long. He feels like a nuclear reactor that’s about to overheat, and he tries his best to keep the explosion at bay. 

“I wondered why you were so interested in my research,” Hyunwoo spits between punches. 

“Should’ve stayed out of things you’re too stupid to control,” Yunho growls. 

Hyunwoo chuckles, blood spilling from his mouth. “The world could have been mine,” he says. 

“ Fuck you,” Yunho says, rearing his fist back to ready himself for another strike.

But the maniacal grin on his face makes him pause. Yunho’s lip curls up in disgust. 

San senses it before he sees it. “Yunho, wait—“ San shouts, taking off in a sprint towards him. 

The grenade falls to the forest floor, thrown by a dying henchmen off to the side, and San isn’t able to reach him in time. The explosion comes quickly, so quick that San barely has time to react. The force of the blast sends him back, and he gasps when his back connects with a nearby tree trunk. 

A ball of thick black smoke engulfs the forest clearing, consuming everything within it. San’s illusions vanish instantly as he desperately gasps for air, and he watches in horror as plumes of fire erupt from the clearing, the smell of burning bodies causing his stomach to twist painfully. 

“Yunho!” San calls out, grunting as he struggles to his feet. He can’t see anything through the black smoke, and he stumbles forward, realising that there’s a small branch impaling his upper thigh. Groaning, he limps forward, covering his mouth with his hand as he continues further into the smoke.

“Yunho!” He calls again, voice ripping from his aching throat. He’s careful not to inhale too much smoke, but despite his efforts, the smoke invades his nose and his mouth, shredding the smooth muscle of his throat.

“Yunho!” He shouts. 

He makes it to the other side of the clearing, but Yunho is nowhere to be found. He continues on, grunting with each painful step, interspersed with desperate shouts of Yunho’s name. 

He stumbles forward, catching himself on a nearby tree. Yunho couldn’t have gone far—the blast was strong, but nothing that Yunho couldn’t handle, right? 

“Yunho!” San calls again, throat gurgling a little, and he realises there’s tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s scared, he realises. Scared that he won’t be able to find Yunho. 

Is he really that important to San? So much so that San is in tears at the prospect that he may not be able to find him? But, of course, San knows that it’s all true. And maybe it’s been true for a long time, but San can’t deny it any longer.

San hears something—it’s soft, just a whisper. But he locks onto the sound, whipping his head around as he strains to listen. Another sound—a grunt this time. San follows it, bloodshot eyes searching frantically for the source of the sound. 

Through the smoke, San sees a silhouette, crumpled up against a tree trunk. “Yunho!” 

San rushes over to him, the smoke dissipating enough to give San a clear view of him. His face is blackened with smoke, marred by several cuts from shrapnel, and his breaths are shallow as his eyelids flutter. 

San looks down, horrified when he sees a large gash in Yunho’s side, blood pooling around him and staining the forest floor. He’s barely conscious, his face ghostly pale from the blood loss. 

San reaches out, pressing his hand against Yunho’s wound, swearing when his palm comes back blood soaked. He glances around, but there’s no signs of any other life. Frantically, San leans down and slides his hands under Yunho’s back and knees, grunting as he lifts. His thigh protests weakly, white hot pain spiking from the strain. But he ignores it, mustering up every ounce of strength to carry Yunho away from the remnants of the explosion. 

San lets his instincts take over as he navigates back to the log cabin, his skin tingling in triumph when he finds it not long after. The door is thankfully unlocked, likely because Yunho had left in a hurry, and he stumbles inside, groaning as he lays Yunho down on the bed. 

He searches the cabin, pulling open every cabinet and drawer until he finds a first aid kit. When he returns, he quickly works away, cutting through Yunho’s jacket and shirt to get to the delicate skin underneath. He cleans the wound, presses gauze into it and maintains pressure just as he’d been taught in his emergency medicine courses the Academy made every hero take. 

Breathing hard, he eyes the rest of Yunho’s body, but he sees no other serious wounds. Even this wound, while serious, wouldn’t be enough to take Yunho out. His body would start to heal quickly, especially now that the wound has been cleaned, and it should only be a matter of time before he regains consciousness.

Still, San feels like his stomach is in knots from worry. What if Yunho doesn’t wake up? After all the things he’d said to San, and all that San had yet to say. 

“You can’t die on me, Yunho,” San whispers desperately. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Yunho’s as he maintains pressure on his wound. “You said you wouldn’t leave.” 

“I might be a jerk, but I’m not a liar, kitten.”

San blinks, pulling back to watch as Yunho’s eyes flutter open, his smirk contorted by an underlying grimace. San’s heart soars, relief washing over him. 

San exhales, shutting his eyes. “Fuck, I thought you—“ 

San flinches when he feels Yunho’s palm against his cheek, the skin rough and mottled from minor burns that will heal in no time. “Died? You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“You get on my nerves, you know that?” San mutters, pouting. 

“Oh? Do I have that strong of an effect on you?” There’s a playfulness to his tone, which San thinks is insane considering the state he’s in. But it wouldn’t be Yunho if he wasn’t teasing San every five minutes. 

“ Yes, you idiot,” San says, a little breathless.

Yunho, taken aback at his answer—surely expecting San to deny it—blinks at him. It’s a good look on him—being dumbfounded for once, that is. San rolls his eyes, but there’s a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“I can never understand you or what you’re thinking, but I guess that’s what I love about you,” San whispers.

Yunho’s eyes widen, his mouth hanging open slightly as he processes San’s words. Despite all the confidence he always carries, it’s almost as if he didn’t expect San’s own confession. And to be fair, San still isn’t one-hundred-percent sure exactly what these feelings are, but all he knows is that he needs Yunho and maybe Yunho needs him, too.

“Wait, do you really—“ Yunho starts to ask, but San cuts him off, leaning down to kiss him softly. He can taste iron on his tongue, Yunho’s busted lip still bleeding, but San can’t find it in himself to care. When he pulls away, Yunho is looking at him like there’s a halo around his head, and San giggles breathlessly.

“So all I have to do is almost die before you finally admit it?” Yunho jokes.

San pouts. “Oh, you’re fine. Don’t be dramatic.”

Yunho turns an eyebrow up. “Hm, I seem to remember someone begging me not to die just a few minutes ago—“

San covers Yunho’s mouth to cut him off, flushing red in embarrassment. Yunho’s expression softens, and he nuzzles into San’s palm. San swallows thickly when he feels Yunho press his lips against San’s palm, and when he pulls his hand away he sees a tender smile. It makes San’s heart race and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself down. 

“I love you, kitten,” Yunho whispers, thumb brushing over San’s cheekbone. 

And San isn’t really ready to say it outright quite yet, so he leans down and kisses Yunho again, deeper this time, hoping that he can convey every emotion in a way his words would never be able to.

Chapter Text

“Should you really be making an injured person carry all this firewood?” 

San rolls his eyes. “Ironic coming from the guy who insists he’s all healed up.”

Yunho grins, their shoulders bumping as they walk in tandem. “Well, I’m certainly healed enough for a very specific type of exercise, but carrying wood isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” 

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at San, laughing when San flushes a deep red and turns away. “Healed enough for jokes,” San grumbles to himself. 

They make their way back to the cabin, the sun dipping behind the canopy of the surrounding trees. It’s quiet now, the serenity cut every so often by the sound of birds chirping or critters scurrying about. At first, San had been slightly paranoid that Hyunwoo had managed to survive the explosion, even at such close proximity, and that his henchmen were sneaking around, waiting to try their hand once more. 

But once San had gotten Yunho stabilized, he’d gone out to investigate, finding the charred bodies of several henchmen and of Hyunwoo himself. He knows that there are stragglers still, and they’ll have to deal with Hyunwoo’s abandoned prison plus all of his underground activities connected to the mafia, but for now San feels like he can just take a breath. 

The plan is to stay in the cabin just a little longer to let Yunho heal some more, before leaving and heading back to the city. When they leave, they’ll abandon the safe house, location now compromised after their run in with Hyunwoo. There’s several more, Yunho tells him, so losing one isn’t such a big deal. 

They reach the front door of the cabin, Yunho unlocking it with his free hand and stepping aside to let San go through first. San steps into the cabin, setting down his own logs of chopped firewood by the fireplace. Yunho follows not long after, and San piles some of the logs into the fireplace, lighting it and letting the warmth fill the room. 

Yunho plops down onto the couch with a grunt, and San turns to watch as a knot forms between Yunho’s eyebrows, his hand coming up to clutch at his side. Under his clothes, he’s wrapped in white bandages, protecting his wound while it heals. Superheroes tend to heal a lot faster than normal humans, but Yunho seems to be blessed with even more superior healing capabilities. It should really be no time before he’s completely healed, with only a scar to remind them of their fight with Hyunwoo. 

But when San sees the grimace on Yunho’s face, his worry gets the better of him. He rushes to Yunho’s side, placing his hand over Yunho’s, worry etched into his features. “Are you okay? Did your wound reopen?” 

Yunho looks up at him, a mischievous grin the only warning he gets before Yunho is grabbing his arm and yanking him down. San yelps as he lands on Yunho’s lap, legs thrown over Yunho’s as Yunho curls his fingers around the outside of San’s thigh, keeping him tucked in nice and close. 

San’s breath hitches. Since their fight with Hyunwoo, they haven’t really been… intimate. San had forced Yunho to stay in bed for at least an entire day, sleeping on the couch to give him as much space as possible. Namely, because he genuinely wants Yunho to heal. But there’s also a part of him that just doesn’t know how to act around Yunho now. Their relationship had been antagonistic at best until just a few days ago, and when San had confessed (correction: kind of confessed) to Yunho, he’d been overwhelmed by adrenaline and fear. Not that he didn’t mean any of it, of course, but now that he’s back to his senses he just feels awkward. 

And Yunho seemed to sense this, because he’d given San plenty of space as well. Like he was waiting for a stray cat to approach of its own volition, careful not to scare it away. San appreciates it, but it seems that Yunho has had enough of waiting. 

“I’m in a lot of pain, San. I need some TLC.” 

San rolls his eyes, but it’s more of a performance than anything. The back of his neck flushes, and he’s hyper aware of the heat of Yunho’s palm against his thigh. Yunho is close, breath ghosting over San’s throat as Yunho looks up at him. 

“So you were just pretending to be hurt?” San asks, a little breathless. 

Yunho shrugs. “Not completely—it does hurt. But how about you? Does this still hurt?” Yunho asks, his hand sliding up the side of San’s thigh to ghost over the sensitive spot where the branch had impaled him. Once Yunho was stabilized, he’d had to pull it out himself and tie a clean rag around the wound to stop the bleeding, but in the end he was lucky that the branch had been small. 

San shakes his head. Yunho exhales, leaning a little closer. “I know you’re lying,” Yunho whispers. “But it’s okay. You and I have had to get used to hiding our pain.” 

San softens, his hand coming up to cup Yunho’s cheek. Yunho nuzzles into the touch, the sight making San’s heart race just a little faster. “How is it that you always seem to be able to read my mind?” San asks. 

“I just feel like I know you,” Yunho answers. “I can’t really explain it—I’m generally pretty good at reading people, but with you it’s different.”

“I feel like I don’t get you at all,” San says. 

“Tell you what—I’ll let you in on all my secrets.”

San’s eyes widen. “Really? What makes you think I won’t use your secrets against you?”

Yunho shrugs again, not a hint of anxiety in his eyes. “For you, I’ll take that risk.”

San swallows thickly, searching Yunho’s face for some indication of deception. But Yunho is just looking back at him, deep brown eyes open and welcoming, and San takes a breath. “So why do you really rob banks?”

Yunho blinks, taken aback slightly. “ That’s the first thing you want to know? I give you free reign to ask me anything, and you want to know why I rob banks.”

San nods. Yunho sighs, shifting so that he’s pulling San just a little closer while he leans against the back of the couch. “I told you before that I redistribute the money back to the poor—that wasn’t a lie.”

San frowns, tilting his head. “Really? But if you want to help the poor, why would you rob banks? You’re just terrorizing people and putting them in harm’s way, so your good deed doesn’t absolve that.”

“I know. I’m not necessarily doing it purely out of the goodness of my own heart, and I won’t pretend that my methods aren’t dangerous. But the world is corrupt and maintaining the status quo won’t do anything, so I’ve taken things into my own hands.”

“And going after politicians? It’s really a pain when you have to crash every rally.”

“Most of the corruption comes from the politicians themselves.”

“But killing them won’t fix anything,” San says. 

Yunho sighs. “It’s not my goal to assassinate every rotten politician out there, but I’ve got to take power away from them in any way I can.. Call it a… protest , if you will.”

“A protest, huh?”

“Besides, only the truly rotten politicians end up on my list. And only if they refuse to step forward and confess to their crimes. Otherwise, I just ruin their silly parades and mess with their illicit operations.” 

San bites his lip. “You could do so much good if you—”

“If I did things by the book? Sorry, kitten, but life doesn’t work that way.” 

San opens his mouth to protest, but Yunho squeezes his thigh and interrupts him, saying, “I know I gave you the chance to ask me anything, but truthfully I did not think we were going to start debating the morality of my actions. Let’s leave that discussion to another time, shall we?” 

San pouts, but he agrees. Right now, there’s something else he wants to ask. Yunho glances at his pouty lips, eyes darkening ever so slightly. San barely catches it before Yunho is leaning up towards him, stealing an almost chaste kiss. San gasps, brain short circuiting. 

“You look adorable when you do that, you know?” Yunho whispers, pulling away. 

San flushes harder. “Adorable? I don’t—what are you saying—” he stutters. 

Yunho chuckles, breathy and light. “And even more adorable when you get so flustered like that. That’s always something I found so endearing about you.” 

San swallows, butterflies erupting in his stomach. “How long have you even… felt this way?” he asks quietly. 

Yunho hums, considering the question for a few moments. “I was always intrigued by you, even from our first meeting. I remember it pretty clearly—we must have only been eighteen at the time, you were fresh out of the Academy. But I thought you were so beautiful, and your illusions are… something else. Mesmerizing. I’d never seen anything like it.” 

“You—you thought I was beautiful? Even then?” 

Yunho nods. “That was the first thing I ever noticed. And then I was endeared by how righteous you are, and how feisty you are. I loved that whenever I teased you, your neck would turn a little red and you’d get that pretty pout of yours. Very cute.”

San frowns. “I’m not cute— ”

“Sorry, kitten, but I’m just telling you how it is.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“It is my pleasure to be insufferable. I like keeping you on your toes.” 

San rolls his eyes, but he’s acutely aware of the heat radiating from his face. “So that’s why you’re always following me around?”

“Mostly. I could tell that you were intrigued by me, too, and I’ll be honest—I wanted to see how far I could push you.” 

San sputters. “I wasn’t—” 

Yunho steals another kiss, effectively shutting him up. “I know you’d always let me escape. Same way I always let you go, no matter what.”

San pouts again, turning his chin up. “I didn’t let you escape. I just never thought you were a big enough threat to worry about,” San lies. 

Yunho laughs, the melodic sound of it sending pleasant vibration through San’s bones. “Well, thank you for your infinite mercy then.” 

San hums noncommittally. “And what did you mean by calling me one of your ‘projects?’” San asks. 

“I have lots of projects. Pushing your buttons has always been one of them.”

San rolls his eyes. “Of course that’s what you meant.”

“It’s just a nickname,” Yunho says, blinking up at San with almost puppy dog-like eyes. 

“And what did you mean when you said you didn’t like people messing with your projects?”

“Kitten, I’m the only one who gets to see all of your adorable expressions. I’m not going to let anyone else even get a glimpse.” 

San makes a face, a mix of confusion and bewilderment, and Yunho gives a hearty laugh. 

After a moment, his laughter fades, and San looks back at him to see that he’s flashing a soft, genuine smile as he gazes at San. Something in San stirs; the look on Yunho’s face is so breathtaking, San can’t help it when he leans forward, lips ghosting over Yunho’s. 

This time, it’s Yunho whose breath hitches, his fingers flexing into the flesh of San’s thigh. Something shifts, as if San’s small gesture of affection had flipped a switch between them and suddenly the heat is palpable. But Yunho waits, letting San take that fated step towards him. 

San closes the distance completely, pressing their lips together gently. It stays gentle for a long while, their lips moving in perfect sync, and San savours the taste of him, the slight tang of smoke and citrus becoming all too familiar to him. But it’s not long before San’s hunger starts to grow, heat pooling in his core. 

San shifts, repositioning so that he’s bracketing Yunho’s thighs. It allows him to crowd Yunho in further, arms winding around Yunho’s neck. Yunho’s hands move, settling on San’s hips as he kisses him deeper, opens him up with such ease that you’d think they’d been doing this forever. 

When Yunho licks into his mouth, San melts, entire body trembling, and all he can think is more, more, more. San whines, fingers tugging at the small strands of hair at the nape of Yunho’s neck, trying to find purchase as he feels like his world is turned upside down. 

The heat continues to build and San is left breathless, his needy whines swallowed by Yunho. He hears—no, feels —Yunho’s chest rumble as his hips begin to roll of their own volition, his cock growing hard between them. 

When Yunho pulls away, dragging San’s bottom lip between his teeth as he goes, San’s breathy whines fill the quiet cabin as Yunho kisses along his throat, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. San’s head lolls to the side, face flushed a rosy red. He continues to move against Yunho, savouring the sound of Yunho’s muffled moans against his neck, and when Yunho’s hands begin to move, ducking under the hem of San’s loose shirt, San feels his entire body vibrate. 

Yunho’s hands are rough along his smooth, honey skin, calluses catching on each bump of vertebrae as Yunho clutches him close. “Should we be doing this? You’re still injured,” San mumbles, words slurring slightly. 

Yunho hums, voice vibrating against San’s collarbone. His hands move as he begins to suck a spot just over the bone, fingers smoothing over his waist then his hips, before curving around his ass, and then somehow lower. San gasps when he feels the pad of Yunho’s middle finger brush over the spot right above San’s entrance, and suddenly the thick fabric of his sweats are too much to bear. 

“I’m healed enough for this,” Yunho mutters. His hands move again, this time to grip San’s shirt and pull, freeing him of the clothing and tossing it to the side haphazardly. He leans back, eyes raking over San’s naked torso. San, flushed with lips red and kiss swollen, sits back on his haunches, half-lidded eyes watching Yunho. 

Yunho places his hands back on San, palms smoothing over his stomach and slowly sliding up until they reach his nipples. San arches into him, gasp falling from his open mouth at the feeling of electricity over him. Yunho bites his lip, the movement so incredibly sexy that San feels his cock jump, and he tests San’s nipples again. He rolls them between his fingers, switching between pinching and kneading the hard muscles of his chest, before brushing the pads of his fingers over the nubs, touch so soft that it’s barely there. 

San is a quivering mess, his hips bucking against Yunho’s with each touch. Yunho continues to watch him, eyes so dark that they’re almost black. San almost feels self-conscious under Yunho’s intense gaze, and he brings his hands up to his face, hiding behind his palms. 

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Yunho asks, voice gravelly and low. His fingers leave San’s overly sensitive nipples, only to wrap around San’s wrists and coax his hands away. 

“Just—stop staring at me. It’s embarrassing,” San mutters. 

Yunho smirks, playful and devilish. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re just so beautiful, I can’t look away.”

San gasps, ducking his head to hide the rush of heat to his face. Except his entire body is flushed at this point, so he’s not doing a very good job at cloaking his bashfulness. Yunho chuckles, dragging his hand up San’s throat before pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tips San’s chin up, then pulls him closer, coaxing him into a searing kiss. 

San relaxes into it, letting the instincts and heady desire take over again. Yunho opens him right back up, his free hand pressing flat into the small of San’s back, bringing San’s body closer to his. 

When he pulls away this time, San’s eyes are half-lidded and he sways a little, his head so light that he feels like he might just float away if Yunho doesn’t hold on tight enough. “You’re adorable when you’re shy,” Yunho says. 

“I—I don’t really have experience with this sort of stuff,” San confesses. It dawns on him that perhaps this is not the right time to talk about it, but his words escape him before he can claw them back. 

Yunho softens, his smile tender and reassuring. “It’s okay, kitten. I’m sorry for how the first time went; I didn’t realise it was your first time and that’s not how I wanted it to go. I’ll be more gentle this time, okay?” 

San’s eyelashes flutter, and he bites his lip. “No, I—I liked it. A lot. I just… I know I talked a big game last time, but in reality I have no clue what I’m doing. And I don’t want to screw it up,” San whispers, his voice so low that even he struggles to hear himself over the thundering of his heart. 

Yunho kisses him again, slowly and deeply. It’s like Yunho is hypnotizing him, and San isn’t complaining. This time when they part, San is feeling a little less self-conscious. Instead, the heat in his core is starting to become unbearable, and he’s starting to lose his sense of self, consumed by desire. 

“Don’t worry, kitten. You could never screw it up. If only you could see just how beautiful you are, how seductive you sound, then maybe you’d believe me.”

San bites his lip again, cock twitching. “You, uh, don’t have to be gentle,” San stammers. “I—uh, I really liked it last time.” 

Yunho’s eyes widen briefly, his only warning before suddenly San is being flipped, the wind knocked right out of him as he lands on his back. His thighs fall to the side as Yunho settles between them, a furrow between his brows as he looks down at San. “Fuck, you’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Oh,” San breathes, trembling when he feels Yunho’s hips press down against him, his own cock hard and straining behind the fabric of his pants. 

“See? You could never screw it up, kitten. You’re so—God, you’re just so beautiful.” 

San whimpers, the praise muddling his mind and making him yearn for more. Yunho dives down, shifting a little so that he can mouth sloppily at San’s nipple. San moans, little sparks of pleasure running down his spine, and he scrambles for purchase on Yunho’s shoulders, nails digging into his milky skin. 

San writhes, his body so incredibly sensitive that he’s not sure if he wants to move closer to Yunho or if he wants to hide away from the overwhelming onslaught of Yunho’s tongue. Yunho makes the decision for him, hands finding their place on San’s hips, holding him firmly in place. 

San places his palms on either side of Yunho’s jaw, coaxing his head up so that their eyes can meet. He shivers when he sees how flushed Yunho is, his ears a pretty red, and the way Yunho’s bottom lip shines with saliva. It’s a dizzying sight, and San pulls him up to kiss him again, sloppier this time. 

San’s hands start to wander, sliding down Yunho’s chest. His fingers fumble around Yunho’s belt, clumsily undoing the clasp. Yunho sits back, grinning as he glances down at San’s shaky fingers. San loses his nerve immediately, pulling his hands away as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, but Yunho catches his wrists, stopping him. 

“It’s okay, kitten. You can touch me.”

San exhales, trying to calm his nerves. Their first time had been a bit of a whirlwind, and San had gotten swept away within no time, but now he’s hyper aware of Yunho’s eyes on him and the very real feelings between them and suddenly he’s a little too overwhelmed to do much of anything. 

Yunho, seeing San’s obvious anxiety, grabs San’s hands, bringing them up to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to his knuckles. San flushes even harder, and he steels himself, gently pulling his hands away from Yunho’s. They return to Yunho’s belt, fingers moving slowly and gingerly as he completely undoes the buckle and unzips. Then he reaches into Yunho’s pants, wrapping his fingers around the heat of his cock. 

Yunho shudders, leaning forward so his hands can bracket San’s head. At this distance, San can count each eyelash, see the dark flecks in Yunho’s eyes. He experiments, twisting his fist and watching Yunho carefully to gauge his reaction. As San tentatively works at Yunho’s cock, he watches in amazement as Yunho’s breathing grows ragged, a knot forming between his brows. 

The sound of Yunho’s groans gives San more and more confidence, switching between gripping tight and twisting, thumbing the slit and loosening his fingers until he’s barely touching. 

He does what he knows feels good for himself, operating on instinct more than anything else. Yunho’s growing hardness, along with the sound of his rough groans in San’s ear, just spurs San on further. An idea forms, and he acts on it, removing his hands and placing them instead on Yunho’s shoulders. He pushes and Yunho moves with him, blinking in confusion as San makes him shift all the way back until he’s sitting. 

Then San untangles himself from Yunho, sliding off the couch. Yunho turns, reaching up for San as he asks, “What’s wrong, San?”

San shakes his head, grabbing the waistband of his pants and shimmying out of them. Yunho watches him closely, admiring the way that the fire casts warm light over San’s honey skin, his body on full display. San steps closer to Yunho, lowering to his knees.

Yunho swallows, watching San like he doesn’t even believe he’s real. San takes a deep breath in, shimmying a little closer until he’s slotted perfectly between Yunho’s knees. He leans forward, mouth watering as he lifts his hands to pull Yunho’s underwear down, freeing his aching cock. 

San holds the base firm, gingerly bringing his lips to the tip. He looks up through his long lashes, watching Yunho to make sure he’s doing it right. Yunho shudders when San’s lips wrap around the tip, his tongue darting out to taste. It’s an interesting taste, a little bitter, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when Yunho’s expression looks like that. 

He swallows Yunho down further, working his lips around the thick girth of Yunho’s cock. He thinks of how Yunho had sucked him off last time, tries to mimic him in the way he sucks and bobs his head. 

Yunho reaches out, threading his fingers through San’s hair. San shudders at the feeling of Yunho’s nails scraping against his scalp, and he moans, the vibration causing Yunho’s fingers to flex.

“That’s it,” Yunho says. “Use your tongue,” he instructs, and San is eager to oblige. 

“Now focus at the tip,” Yunho says. San tongues at his slit, eyelashes fluttering when he feels Yunho shiver. He continues like that for a few moments, the taste of precum bitter on his tongue, before he decides to switch it up. He swallows Yunho down again, giving him a hard suck before he continues further down his length. 

When Yunho’s fingers tangle into his hair, tugging just a little, San is spurred on. He continues, breathing through his nose as he tries to take Yunho in as far as he can. His eyes start to water, throat straining as he fights his gag reflex, but when he sees Yunho’s eyes fall shut and his head falls back as a delicious moan spills from his lips, San surges with desire.

He sucks hard, moaning, and suddenly Yunho’s hands are on either side of his face and he’s pulling San off with a pop. San blinks at him, dazed, a line of drool spilling out of the corner of his mouth and his face completely red. 

“Did I not do a good job?” San asks, voice surprisingly rough and scratchy. 

Yunho leans forward, bringing their lips together. San sighs, jaw aching a little. “God, no. You did a great job,” Yunho says, a line of spit connecting their mouths as he pulls away. “I was so close to coming, kitten, but I don’t want to—not yet. We’re nowhere near done.” 

Yunho helps him stand, his legs already a little numb from sitting on them for so long. Then Yunho pulls off his shirt, lifts his hips so he can slip out of his pants and underwear. When he’s undressed completely, he takes San’s hand and leads him onto his lap, San’s thighs bracketing Yunho’s. San glances down at him, fingers tracing the edges of the bandages wrapped around his chest and waist. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Only a little bit. But right now, not at all,” Yunho says. 

Yunho smooths his hands over San’s waist, wandering until they’ve settled over the curve of his ass, and he mouths along the column of San’s throat. “Reach over and grab the bottle from my pocket,” Yunho murmurs, the vibration of his voice making San shiver. 

San does so, pulling a small vial from Yunho’s discarded pants. “How long have you been carrying this around for?” 

Yunho chuckles, hot breath tickling San’s skin. “For the last day or two.”

“Really? Why didn’t you make a move?” San asks.

Yunho licks a stripe up San’s carotid, his pulse racing. “I was waiting… didn’t want to scare you away. You seemed like you needed some space,” Yunho explains.

“Oh,” San breathes. 

Yunho pops the vial open with one hand, then douses his fingers in the clear, viscous fluid. He mouths at a spot just under San’s jaw, reaching around and prodding his finger against San’s entrance.

San inhales deeply, sighing when Yunho’s finger pushes past the tight ring of muscles. San arches, giving Yunho better access, and he tries to control his raging heartbeat when Yunho mouths at the angle of his jaw. His finger pumps in and out of San, working him open effortlessly. After a few minutes, Yunho adds another finger, and San’s hips start to move of their own volition, pushing back into Yunho’s hand. 

“Eager, kitten?” Yunho asks, and San can hear the smile in his voice, feels it on his skin. 

“No, I—” San stutters, ducking his face into the crook of Yunho’s neck. 

Yunho squeezes San’s hipbone with his other hand, humming. Then he adds a third finger, spreading them slowly to stretch San open. San moans, burying his face further into Yunho’s neck, his sandalwood scent overwhelming. Yunho curls his fingers, then presses them in further, and San stops himself from moaning by sinking his teeth into Yunho’s neck. 

Yunho shudders, his voice a little shaky when he sees, “Why so shy now, hm? Don’t hide your voice, San. It’s so beautiful.” 

San whimpers, voice still muffled against Yunho’s neck. As Yunho continues to meticulously stretch him open, San feels like he’s going delirious, his head light and airy, hips growing more frantic as he chases the pressure of Yunho’s fingers reaching deep within him. 

It feels like forever before Yunho finally slides his fingers out of San, and when he does, San can only sit back on Yunho’s lap, eyes barely open as his body threatens to overheat from pure need. Yunho doesn’t look much better, his cheeks flushed and eyes dark as he leans forward to kiss San breathless. 

As their tongues tangle, San feels the tip of Yunho’s cock against him. San pulls away with a gasp, slowly reaching down and behind to grip Yunho’s cock. Shakily, he lifts his hips, lining up the tip of Yunho’s cock with his entrance. Then, with an even shakier breath, he starts to sink down, sitting lower and lower as his thighs tremble. The stretch is just as intense as it had been that first time, and despite how long Yunho had spent preparing him, he still feels pinpricks of pain, a slight burning that forces him to inhale and exhale deeply just so he can adjust. 

San’s eyelids flutter, and the way that Yunho is looking at him is all the encouragement he needs. He feels like his sanity finally snaps as their gazes meet, and San pushes through his thighs, raising himself up all the way to the tip before slamming back down again. Yunho’s hands find purchase on his hips, helping him move rhythmically. For a while, he just lets San move as he pleases, his eyes hyper focused on the sight of San fucking himself on Yunho’s cock. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Yunho breathes, sending San into a frenzy. San pumps his thighs harder, ignores the shaking as he fucks himself desperately on Yunho’s cock. 

The stretch is delicious, the pressure within San’s core building as Yunho fills him completely. Yunho whispers praises to him, and he focuses on them like it’s a prayer, clinging to the sound of his voice so ragged and thick with desire. 

When San’s thighs start to fail him, he whimpers, falling forward onto Yunho and clutching at his shoulders as his chest heaves. Yunho turns his head, kissing San on the cheek. “You did such a good job, kitten,” he says gently, brushing away the hair matted to San’s forehead. 

San hums, burying his nose in the soft hair just behind Yunho’s ear. “So good, kitten,” Yunho whispers, and San clutches Yunho closer. “You just relax now, and I’ll take care of you, kitten.” 

Then Yunho is snaking his hands around the underside of San’s ass, gripping him firmly, and lifting only to lower San’s hips as he thrusts up to meet him, driving so deeply into San that it sends him reeling. “Oh—oh God, ” San moans, almost incoherently. 

Yunho plants his feet into the ground to drive into San harder and faster, the friction of his cock dragging along San’s walls almost too much to handle. San digs his nails into Yunho’s shoulders, mewling at every press of Yunho’s cock. Then Yunho shifts, changing the angle slightly, and San tenses, throwing his head back and arching. Sparks of electricity shock him from his tailbone all the way up his spine, and he chokes on a loud moan, and suddenly there’s no stopping it before the tension in his core is unravelling. He comes with a cry, body convulsing as Yunho presses in deeper, and San swears he sees stars. 

His powers threaten once again to spill over, and he can’t quite stop it from seeping into the real world, the air shimmering around them. 

Yunho growls, his own thighs trembling as he increases his pace, relentless as San rides out his orgasm. As Yunho grows closer to his own orgasm, his thrusts become erratic, fingers digging into the flesh of San’s ass so hard San is pretty sure there will be marks. 

“Yunho,” San mewls, voice wrecked, and it’s enough to pull Yunho over the edge. He feels Yunho’s entire body tense, cock pulsing within him as he releases, and San gasps softly. Overwhelmed, his powers stretch out, bathing the room in a shimmering light. The sound of waves breaking upon a shore overtakes the sound of the crackling fire, and San blearily opens his eyes when he feels a warm, salty breeze on his back. 

An endless ocean stretches around them, with azure waves sparkling like diamonds under an illusionary sun. San sighs, sinking into Yunho’s embrace, letting the illusion persist. As Yunho catches his breath, he brushes his fingers up and down the column of San’s spine, and San nearly purrs, nuzzling into Yunho’s body. 

“You okay?” Yunho asks gently. 

San nods, leaning back to kiss Yunho lazily. Yunho hums against his lips, wrapping his arms tight around San’s body so he can hug him close. “More than okay,” San mutters, never pulling away far enough to leave Yunho’s lips. 

Yunho smiles, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. Then San is yelping as he’s being spun around, back landing against the couch cushions once again as Yunho crowds over him. 

“What are you—” San starts to ask, but he’s cut off when he feels Yunho’s hard cock press against his entrance. His eyes widen, heart hammering in his chest. “Wait, I can’t—” 

Yunho tilts his head, gives him puppy eyes for crying out loud. “Just a little more,” he pleads. 

San melts, his resolve cracking. He sighs, circling his hands around Yunho’s neck, and Yunho grins wide, mischievous as he dives down to wreck San even further. 

///

Sirens blare, and San ducks under a line of yellow caution tape, feeling the energy within him stirring in anticipation as he approaches the scene. 

“Thank God you’re here.”

San turns to his right, nodding at one of the officers as they approach. “Any civilians still inside?”

The officer shakes her head. “No, sir. The break-in started after hours.” 

“Good. Make sure the area is clear—this could get a little messy.” 

“Right away, sir! Alright, you heard him—move back!” the officer shouts, grabbing her walkie-talking and mumbling orders into it as she waves some of the officers back. 

San takes a deep breath, examining the scene. The bank looks nearly untouched, and there’s no broken windows or debris strewn about. San starts towards the door, pulling it open carefully, before stepping inside. All the lights are off, with only the flashing red and blue lights of the police brigade on the street to provide any visibility. 

The hairs on San’s neck stand on end, his only warning before something is darting out towards him through the dark. San dodges just in time, ducking and rolling to the side. He returns to his feet immediately, darting forward and dodging nearly invisible black tendrils that whip out at him relentlessly. 

San casts out his powers, attempting to bathe the inside of the empty bank in sunlight, but a tendril catches his shoulder, knocking him back slightly. Before he can recover, the sole of a thick black boot connects with his stomach, sending him flying backwards. He breaks through the ceiling-to-floor glass windows of the bank, the sound of the bank alarm ringing in his ear, and he lands with his back against a nearby car. The car’s alarm starts to blare loudly, but San can’t spare a moment. 

Something else comes flying towards him—another shadowy tendril, he realises—and he ducks low, letting the tendril pierce the frame of the car behind him. Glass shards crack and shatter further under boots as a figure steps out of the bank, and San pounces, fist pummeling towards the figure’s face. 

“I’ve missed you, kitten,” Yunho says, dodging San’s fist. 

San uses the momentum from his punch to spin and kick, just millimeters away from connecting with Yunho’s jaw. “You saw me two days ago,” San says. 

“I want to see you every day ,” Yunho retorts, reflexes lightning quick as he blocks San’s foot with his forearm. 

“Don’t tell me you’re robbing this bank just so you can see me,” San says, moving just a little quicker, satisfied when the pace makes Yunho’s cocky smirk break just barely. 

“If I said yes, would that make your heart race?” 

San rolls his eyes, dancing away as the tables turn just enough for Yunho to go on the offensive. San casts out his powers again, this time casting several illusions of himself in an attempt to overwhelm and confuse Yunho. 

San’s copies begin to crowd Yunho in, while San lets himself get lost in the sea of identical faces. Yunho pulls out his dagger, slicing through clone after clone, his dagger phasing right through them. San puts more power into the illusion, letting the ghosts of himself solidify enough to make contact with Yunho. 

San doesn’t see the small shadowy tendril before it sweeps his feet from under him, and he slams against the pavement with a loud thud. Before he can save himself, there’s a weight on him, his hands pinned above his head and thighs bracketing his hips, keeping him pressed against the cool pavement. 

His illusions waver, shimmering until they begin to fade away. Yunho is above him, grinning like a fool. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll always be able to find you.” 

San rolls his eyes, but he feels a slight flush creep up the nape of his neck. “Don’t get too cocky,” San snaps. 

But Yunho just chuckles breathily, leaning in closer until his breath is brushing against San’s ears. San is acutely aware of the police presence around him, but he starts to care a little less when he hears Yunho’s voice whisper, “Dinner at my place tonight?” 

San answers by bashing his head into Yunho’s, hard enough that it staggers Yunho just long enough for San to roll them over, reversing their positions so that he’s the one pinning Yunho to the pavement. “Eight o’clock,” San says, smirking at Yunho’s dazed look. 

Yunho recovers quickly, grinning wider. Black smoke starts to appear, gathering towards Yunho’s back, and San watches as his black wings unfurl. Then Yunho curls his wings in, encasing the two of them together. Before San can question him, he steals a kiss, hidden behind shadowy feathers. 

“Can’t wait to see you then. Come in that crop top that I like,” Yunho whispers. 

San opens his mouth to protest, maybe to just call Yunho an idiot, but then Yunho winks at him before taking advantage of San’s lapse in defense, pushing San off of him and sliding up to his feet in one smooth, inhuman motion. 

Then he’s beating his wings, lifting into the sky as San stands there stunned, thankful that the red lights of the police vehicles hide the bright red flush that’s creeping up to his cheeks. 

Yunho disappears into the night with another wink and San runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. 

“Looks like he got away again,” an officer says, jogging towards him. “Thanks for helping us. I’m sure he would’ve taken every last penny from the bank if you hadn’t gotten here just in time.”

San nods, still a little dazed. The officer gives him an odd look. “Are you okay? You look a little out of it—”

San looks up at the officer suddenly, who blinks at him, startled at the sudden movement. “Right, uh—you good here to clean up?” 

The officer nods slowly, bewildered. 

San bites back a smile, checking his watch. “Good, because I’ve got somewhere to be.”