Fics like live to ride

“‘Fraid it’s gonna cost you this time, sweetheart,” San rasps, voice like molasses left too long in summer heat—dark, slow, dripping with too much intent. “Yeah?” Wooyoung whispers, the word soft, trembling on the edge of provocation. The sharp cockiness of earlier has hollowed out, left something more raw, more reckless, behind. “And what exactly am I paying with?” “You’re not made of money out here,” San murmurs, the words drawn from somewhere low, somewhere bruised, dark and patient and rough with the weight of all the things he hasn’t said and may never say. His thumb drifts lower, down the elegant cut of Wooyoung’s jaw, slow and sure, tracing the line like he’s reading something written in a language only he knows. Reverence, hidden beneath the shape of danger. Worship disguised as a warning. “So I’ll take what I want.” or rich boy wooyo likes playing with motorcycles, and mechanic san likes playing with him

Fics like live to ride

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