Archive of Our Own

“Class dismissed.”

Behind Seonghwa, students clamoured out of their seats. Some crammed assignments marked with red X's into their backpacks. Others glanced over the scribbles in the margins explaining exactly why their papers had fallen short before crumpling them into the bin beside the door. They stomped up the stairs, grumbling to their friends about how bullshit the grading was.

Everyone left.

Except Seonghwa.

He uncrossed his legs slowly, reveling in the feel of his skirt skimming his upper thighs. He lingered with his knees pointed outward while gathering his things, rising to his feet just as Professor Kim turned his back and busied himself with literally anything else.

Clouds of chalk dust drifted from the green board, sprinkling his crisp, dark blue dress shirt. Professor Kim brushed them away before unbuttoning his sleeve cuffs and rolling them neatly up his forearms until they sat snug beneath his elbows.

“I know you're there,” the older man said, erasing the last of his sloppy handwriting detailing next week's exam. “I imagine you've prepared an hour-long speech about how unjust your grade was and how I should persuade my fingers to enter one a smidge higher when I log it online?”

Seonghwa didn't reply. Instead, he simply shook the thick stack of research he'd painstakingly stapled together after countless late nights that had left red veins threading through his eyes and dark bags beneath them.

Professor Kim tipped his head back with a sigh. He tossed the eraser onto the metal tray, shoved his hands into his pockets, then turned to face Seonghwa, whose expression had settled into unmistakable disapproval.

“I'm here to discuss why you think I've earned this when I understood the assignment just fine and wrote a, quite frankly, wonderful, well-researched paper detailing the similarities between the plays. I covered everything from the themes surrounding how women treat one another to the directional beats on stage and the use of Germanic language in the second acts.”

There was no use sending Seonghwa away.

Stiffly, Professor Kim shuffled to his chair and dropped into it. He scooted himself close enough that the edge of the desk dug into his solar plexus. Only then did he pull his hands from his pockets and clasp them beneath his chin, elbows resting on the manila folders scattered across his desk beside an upturned mug spilling pens over his mouse pad.

He regarded Seonghwa with his usual blank stare, softened only by the pink creeping across the bridge of his nose, and goaded him in the tired, bored voice that always followed one of his lectures.

“Well, let's hear it.”

Professor Kim may have looked Seonghwa in the eye, but it always struck him as though the older man struggled to do so.

Like someone averting their gaze to keep the thoughts in their head from being seen.

Or someone spotting a person they disliked across the room and trying to ignore them at all costs, only to steal the occasional glance to make sure they were being watched in return.

Or two gazelles convinced they were both prey, when one was really a lion stalking through swaying reeds.

Professor Kim's presence dominated the classroom whenever he was teaching. Afterwards? When it was just the two of them? Park Seonghwa always managed to get what he wanted.

“Well, considering I can't read your wise remark under the very first sentence, let's start there,” Seonghwa said, one eyebrow raised.

A childish groan escaped Professor Kim's throat. It died the moment Seonghwa pivoted on the ball of his foot and strolled towards the chalkboard. Picking up the worn stub of chalk left behind that afternoon, he began writing his comparisons in an easy-to-read bullet-point list.

Professor Kim's eyes followed Seonghwa as he wandered around his domain. Behind his desk. Touching his belongings. Speaking with the easy confidence of someone who had done it dozens of times.

Because he had.

Tracking every graceful movement, Professor Kim turned in his chair to keep Seonghwa in view. Not before adjusting his slacks and resting an arm there, hoping the pressure might help him regain some composure.

It didn't.

Seonghwa wrote sentence after sentence. Long, looping lines of text. Each point delivered in a low purr that drifted effortlessly back to him. A pleased hum rumbled in Professor Kim's chest before the growing ache in his lap forced him to shift again.

He surrendered.

Seonghwa's back was turned.

Professor Kim slipped his right hand into his pocket and discreetly pressed down on the problem threatening to betray him.

The smirk tugging at Seonghwa's lips vanished as he moved on to his next point. He could pretend all he wanted. Act aloof. Be a hardass during lectures.

Professor Kim was wrapped around his finger.

Absolutely no one dared approach Professor Kim after graded papers were handed back. He never changed marks. He never granted extensions. He spent his office hours alone.

As he did his lunch breaks.

Unless Seonghwa was there.

As he often was.

If only Seonghwa's classmates knew all it took to improve their grades was a short skirt, a blouse with the top buttons undone, and thigh-high stockings.

Professor Kim had his weaknesses.

Seonghwa exploited every one of them.

His argument was punctuated by the way he leaned over the desk, underlined by the sway of his skirt with every gesture towards the bleeding red comments insisting his interpretation was wrong. It was reinforced by the unconscious coyness with which he folded his hands in front of himself whenever Professor Kim defended his grading. The glimpse of cleavage only made it harder for the professor to keep his eyes where they belonged as he stumbled through each rebuttal.

Poor professor.

He shifted in his chair and finally admitted defeat at the tilt of Seonghwa's head and the flutter of his lashes. Fight it though he did, he always considered Seonghwa's arguments in good faith before nudging his grade upward in the spreadsheet that ultimately decided whether he passed or failed. The changes were never dramatic.

Just enough to scrape a C.

Seonghwa beamed. He thanked Professor Kim for his time, dusted the chalk from his hands, flashed him a sickly sweet smile, then bounded up the steps and out of the room.

In a way, leaving Professor Kim with a conspicuous tent in his trousers was reward enough.

Though, judging by the low battery warning that greeted him afterwards, his vibrator would need charging before Professor Kim's next class.

The following week, Seonghwa sat at his usual table in the front row, engaged in one of his customary discussions with Professor Kim.

Well, at one point they had been discussions.

Over the past few months, they had gradually drifted into other topics. What Seonghwa had done over the weekend. Professor Kim's hobbies. Poems they both liked. Lines from the plays they were studying. Easy conversations, accompanied by Professor Kim's sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair as dishevelled as the papers scattered across his desk, his legs stretched out beneath him and crossed at the ankles, and that hopelessly goofy grin that never seemed to appear during lectures.

It was almost criminal how easily he made Seonghwa laugh when he was the complete opposite in class. No other student had this kind of rapport with him.

Naturally, the thought inflated Seonghwa's ego.

Being able to interrupt one of Professor Kim's lectures simply by uncrossing his legs and watching the man's cheeks flush.

He was such a simple guy.

Watching him scramble to hide the obvious bulge beneath his desk was enough to fuel Seonghwa for the rest of the day. Tugging idly at the collar of his blouse, teasing the buttons already straining over the lace beneath, only made Professor Kim more transparent.

It was almost cute.

The shorter man unfolded his hands from behind his head and glanced at his watch.

“Shouldn't you be on your way?”

Seonghwa tapped a manicured nail against his phone to check the time.

“Seems so.”

Sliding the worn paperback they had been discussing for his dissertation into his bag, he made his way up the lecture hall steps, weaving past rows of plastic chairs and narrow tables.

“Have a nice evening, Professor.”

He paused in the doorway, trying to read the older man's expression from across the room.

Professor Kim lifted a hand in farewell.

“Lock the door on your way out.”

Seonghwa obliged, pressing the lock on the handle before pulling the door shut behind him.

Hongjoong waited for the familiar click. The brief rattle of the handle.

He had asked Seonghwa to lock the door often enough that the request no longer earned him a puzzled look.

The only sound left was the sharp click of heels echoing down the corridor.

One step.

Then another.

Until even that faded into silence.

The instant the echoes disappeared, the top drawer of Hongjoong's desk flew open with a metallic bang against its runners. He snatched up a bottle of lotion before laying his phone sideways on the desk. The drawer slammed shut without a second thought, its contents collapsing into one another in a noisy jumble.

Lotion. Phone. Tissues.

He shoved his mouse pad aside and dragged the mug of pens closer, using it to prop up his phone before scrolling through his gallery.

“I know I saved them somewhere…” Hongjoong muttered.

By now, the dull ache coiling low in his stomach should have told him it hardly mattered. Instead, he opened Instagram on his second account and navigated to Seonghwa's profile with one hand while fumbling with his belt using the other.

He scrolled until he found his favourite post.

A photoshoot from Seonghwa's summer holiday.

Dozens of photographs. Dozens of angles. Endless pouting looks aimed at the camera, dressed in little more than a dusting of sand and a fashionable micro bikini.

The sand offered more coverage.

He stopped on a photograph he hadn't looked at in a while.

Finally.

His belt slipped through the buckle, the button coming loose. His zip slid down, releasing the aching hardness that had been trapped beneath his boxer briefs. After holding back for an hour, he needed this release.

He wanted it more than anything.

He smeared two pumps of lotion over his fingers, a fistful of tissues waiting at his side. His skin was hot all over, uncomfortably so. Heat pooled low in his tense muscles, lust dragging his eyes over the image, unable to settle on which part he liked best: the side of Seonghwa's tits, voluptuous ass, or plump pussy peeking out from writhing on his stomach on the beach towel. Arching everything so perfectly for him, it was as if Seonghwa was made to please him.

The rest of his concentration was spent fucking his hands.

He lets out a long inhale, then a shuddering exhale.

The guilt of it pulsed in his ears, taboo quickening his pace. Adrenaline raced through his twitching fingers as they dragged over his reddened tip. The groan stirring in his chest unearthed all the restrained affection he had for Seonghwa, and the groan demanded to be released, to moan Seonghwa's name where no one could hear him.

But he had to keep it stamped down. Try as he might not to show favouritism in class, his gaze wandered to Seonghwa far too often. He chose him to stand and declare his snarky answer to his question while he hid himself behind his desk. There were the times Seonghwa showed up early to see him, and he made him write out the day's lecture on the chalkboard, since his handwriting was more legible than his own.

All benign excuses to reel him in.

Mornings spent hanging out. Evenings spent arguing over his grades. It wasn't as though Seonghwa was a bad student; his exam results were what nearly secured him a pass, it was his papers that needed work. Riddled with disjointed thoughts, meandering points, and leaps in logic so incredible it could win gold at the Olympics.

None of it detracted from Seonghwa's allure to him. Quite the opposite, actually. It gave Seonghwa a reason to hang on to his every word, stay around after class, talk to him like a peer, and the familiarity of knowing each other on this level gave Seonghwa the confidence to squabble with him during class.

To set his face aflame when Seonghwa had the gall to wear those short skirts, legs opening and closing when speaking to him. Making him slip his hand in his pocket under his desk when Seonghwa challenged him.

No one could hold his interest like Seonghwa did.

No one.

Hongjoong pumped his dick faster, swiping to the next photo with the hand he'd kept clean. One with Seonghwa's tits on display for the camera. It was cruel how the strip of fabric over Seonghwa's hard nipples caused his jaw to tense and his nostrils to flare. His tits in the photos, his tits bouncing under the thin fabric of his shirt when he sauntered around his desk, his tits slick with Hongjoong's eager kisses, his tits covered in his come.

Damn Seonghwa for tempting him. And damn him for encouraging it against his better judgement.

He was in too deep.

The thick vein along the underside of his cock throbbed, his body going taut.

Release. Relax.

Hongjoong gathered the tissues, pumping once, twice.

"Fuck!" he stifled the moan behind his teeth, eyes flitting from working his cock to the photo of Seonghwa. Devouring the contours, curves, dips, and swells of his body. Picturing Seonghwa naked under him. Twisted in pleasure. Shouting his name.

He circled his fingers, guiding them in smooth passes over his cockhead, each graze of his digits sending him to the precipice.

Fuck.

He emptied himself into the tissues, milking his cock dry in long, slow strokes while staring at his phone.

He cleaned up in haste, tissues immediately disposed of, a wet wipe on his hands as if it would wash away his delinquency, briefcase already packed, and spent cock tucked away for another time. He checked his watch; he should still be home in time for an unloving, resentful, cold dinner left for him on the kitchen counter and moving boxes strewn about the living room couch where he slept.

Walking alone in the dark parking lot gave him time to think. And thinking allowed the insidious venom of self-loathing to replace the endorphins tingling his nerves.

He developed feelings for one of his students. And he yearned for more than the inappropriate hours he scheduled to be with Seonghwa. More than the hours he spent turning over their interactions in his head, and the tired satisfaction he felt after wearing himself out on idyllic scenarios with Seonghwa.

Oh, how he reveled in it.

Seonghwa was his escape, and he was not about to change that.

Seonghwa drummed his nails against the underside of Professor Kim's desk, leaning his weight onto it. The position naturally drew his chest together between his braced elbows. Surely that was worth another two points. Two measly points.

“Oh no,” Professor Kim said with a lopsided grin. “Looks like the program isn't responding.”

He circled his mouse dramatically, chuckling at Seonghwa's growing frustration.

“Professor,” Seonghwa whined.

Professor Kim tore his gaze away from Seonghwa's chest after imagining his cock leaking between the other man's breasts, and forced himself to look at the monitor instead. He furrowed his brows, clicked around. Then he shook the mouse with exaggerated determination and frowned.

“What is it?” Seonghwa asked.

“It's frozen.” He tapped a few keys.

“C'mon.”

“No, really.”

Professor Kim tilted the monitor towards him, demonstrating that the grading program had completely locked up. The cursor hadn't moved an inch.

Leaning further over the desk, Seonghwa mashed random keys as though sheer optimism might succeed where the professor had failed.

Professor Kim barely noticed. He was entranced. The cleavage was certainly distracting, but his attention had drifted elsewhere.

His pen mug.

One pen stood higher than the rest, its pointed cap pressing lightly against Seonghwa's nipple through the thin fabric of his blouse. The intensity of his stare was almost tangible, like sunlight on bare skin.

Seonghwa noticed immediately. 

What a simple man. Tease himself on one of the professor’s belongings and he would cherish it forever.

He arched his back ever so slightly, pouted his luscious bottom lip, and rolled the pen beneath his nipple to coax it erect, until he was satisfied that the professor had reached his limit. 

“Want me to take a look, Professor?” he asked, voice light as air.

“Great idea.” 

Fuck. Those two words should not have sounded like that. That husky voice, heavy with arousal, imbued those two little words with a spell that wrapped itself around Seonghwa's spine.

Professor Kim pushed himself away from the desk with one foot, crossing his ankles beneath him. One hand disappeared into his pocket while the other settled against the armrest, propping up his head.

Professor Kim simply watched. Waited. Like he was expecting Seonghwa to do something. It made his confidence falter.

It wasn't like Professor Kim to look at him this way when they were alone. And it was equally unlike him to return even an ounce of Seonghwa’s flirting. Not to this degree. Usually, the dais became neutral ground. The authority dissolved. Their conversations became casual. Their teasing harmless.

This was different.

The hunger in Professor Kim's eyes made the command feel unspoken.

Come here.

Do as you're told.

The thought alone sent a zing of excitement straight to the apex of Seonghwa’s thighs. He rounded the desk. Ordinarily, he would have dragged a finger along its edge. Added a little sway to his hips. Made a performance of invading the professor’s space.

Today, he forgot. Too preoccupied with the taut line of the professor's neck. Too captivated by the relentless way those dark eyes tracked every movement he made.

Bending at the waist, Seonghwa pressed Control, Alt, and Delete. Nothing happened. He harrumphed.

The hairs along the back of his neck prickled as Professor Kim's chair creaked behind him. Something shifted just outside his peripheral vision. Whatever it was quickly escaped his attention.

Following the keyboard and mouse cables beneath the desk, he noticed they bulged strangely before disappearing into the cable tray. Curious, he reached down and tugged. Both cords slipped free into his hand.

“Sir,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “they're not plugged in.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” Professor Kim cooed. Behind him, his voice carried an unfamiliar weight. “Care to rectify that for me?”

“Y... Yes, sir.” Submissive. Quivering. Anticipating. Wishing. Hoping.That was all Seonghwa felt as he lowered himself beneath the desk, kneeling on the floor as darkness swallowed him. The modesty panel blocked nearly all the light, forcing him to feel his way along the back of the computer tower. His fingertips gathered dust while they searched for the empty USB ports.

Hongjoong could not have been happier.

Seonghwa was on his hands and knees in front of him.

He opened the camera app on his phone, snatched from his desk while Seonghwa wasn't looking, and started recording.

The phone rested low against his lap. He had threaded his cock through a hole cut out in his pocket, bunching the fabric of his trousers so only his engorged tip was visible outside. Just enough to satisfy the impulse urging him to create another memory to revisit later, this time by his own accord.

He focused his phone to a close-up of his cock encircled in his thick fingers, stroking it for a few seconds, holding a fistful of himself before drifting the camera towards Seonghwa - face down, ass up.

A strip of white cotton disappeared between his cheeks like a trail leading Hongjoong’s gaze exactly where it wanted to go, begging to be licked, to be sucked. A damp patch stretched the fabric taut over Seonghwa’s cunt. 

Seonghwa could not have known this particular pair was the professor’s weakness. They were most visible in his dimmed classroom; the black lace pair became obscured in the shadows of his thighs. But the crisp, stark white? Hongjoong practically basked in it whenever Seonghwa gave him a glimpse.

His heart hammered in the silence of the empty classroom.

He had prepared an excuse the moment he'd devised this plan over the weekend. If Seonghwa turned around, he'd hide his cock and switch on his phone's flashlight, pretending he'd only been trying to help him see beneath the desk.

But Seonghwa didn't turn.

He didn't look back.

He never questioned what Hongjoong was doing.

Instead, he grimaced at the dust gathering beneath his fingernails while fumbling to line the cables up with their ports.

The chair creaked again.

Hongjoong shifted to the edge of his seat, knees angling to either side of Seonghwa’s ass. His breathing grew heavier as he watched without taking his eyes off him. Seonghwa’s heat inches from him. Heavy breaths linking the space from his cock, to his phone, to Seonghwa’s panties.

Metal clicked against metal. Cables knocked together. Seonghwa must have thought he was an idiot. 

Maybe he was.

Swimming in the murky waters of student-teacher relationships. Somewhere along the line, innocent conversations after class had become lingering visits. Requests to help file papers. Asking Seonghwa to write on the chalkboard because his handwriting was neater. One excuse after another, each pushing the boundary a little further than before.

But if Hongjoong was drowning, then so was Seonghwa.

He was already in the water with him.

Seonghwa had found the ports minutes ago. In truth, everything had already been plugged in. He lingered anyway. Teasing Professor Kim like this… The pure debauchery of the air cooling his soaked panties should have sentenced him to a lifetime of shame. It did not. It felt fucking good knowing the professor was looking - captivated by him.

He rocked his hips ever so slightly, listening to the whisper of fabric with quiet satisfaction. 

Knowing Professor Kim was watching felt too good.

Seconds passed.

Seonghwa arched his back a fraction further, presenting himself in all his glory.

Then the shame finally arrived - when Professor Kim didn't act upon his wants.

He never did. Something always held him back. It always did.

But it really felt like this time was different… Despite everything Seonghwa had done over the past months, Professor Kim remained frustratingly restrained.

Seonghwa decided he'd stalled long enough and crawled backwards from under the desk, standing to tap away at the miraculously working program to change his score and hit Enter.

The wheels behind him squeaked. Professor Kim's knees bumped into the back of Seonghwa's, causing Seonghwa's to buckle, bend. "Oh!" Seonghwa faltered and caught himself on the desk, spinning to face the professor at the same time Professor Kim decided to rise from his chair.

He used his body to box Seonghwa in.

Surprised by the tangle of shoes knocking, his knees going weak, Seonghwa clutched at Professor Kim's tie, earning him a strangled cough from his throat. The professor's arms fell to either side of Seonghwa's body, pinning him between himself and the desk, its edge digging into Seonghwa's plush ass.

The silkiness of Professor Kim's tie rivaled the softness of his pink lips hovering over Seonghwa's. The hardness of his charcoal black eyes boring into Seonghwa's matched what was pressing into Seonghwa's stomach.

"Sorry." Seonghwa's whisper was so quiet his voice cut out as he let go of the tie and smoothed his hand down the professor's chest, his stomach. "The computer's working now." Heat radiated between their bodies, pressed together as one, excuses lost in the passage of time. Impure thoughts raced in both minds, ones saved for empty classrooms and toys that did not come with baggage and consequences if caught.

The coarse fabric of Professor Kim's trousers grazed Seonghwa's upper thighs as he advanced forward, laying his chest against Seonghwa's chest to reach his mouse, snug against Seonghwa's ass, and close the program on screen.

Months of seducing this man led to his unresolved desire brushing over Seonghwa's mound. If he just tipped his hips it would apply pressure to his needy-

Through half-closed eyes, he saw through Seonghwa's ruse. Strong forearms enclosed Seonghwa's waist, no longer shy about expressing what he wanted. Seonghwa was not the lion in the reeds. He was the sheep and Professor Kim donned the wool over his eyes.

The professor's wolfish grin pulled at Seonghwa's innocent mouth agape at his forwardness. Mischief curled his mouth as he said, "I dismissed class over an hour ago. Why are you still here prancing around in front of me?"

His voice curled over the shell of Seonghwa's ear and sank low, innocuous words catching like a spark to dry leaves, kindling heat everywhere Seonghwa wanted to be touched, ruined.

The longer his lips deemed Seonghwa worthy, the more he knew this was what he wanted.

Gaining some autonomy, Seonghwa slid his hand from admiring the professor's abs up the planes of his chest, over his rounded shoulder, and down his arm, skirting over his rolled up sleeve to the coarse hair on his forearm. He reached his wrist and settled his hand on top of his.

His left hand.

The older man mouthed at Seonghwa's throat, breath down his dewy cleavage. His lips rested on his fragile skin; just resting, not kissing. They found Seonghwa's drumming pulse, certain it was caused by him. The twist of Professor Kim's mouth stopped short of the smirk it was forming.

A sense of dread overcame Seonghwa.

The low moan in the back of Professor Kim's throat stopped. His body went rigid in places it was not before.

It happened so suddenly, Professor Kim reeling back with panic in his eyes, his vocal cords poised, suspended in time. He prepared to create words of warning, or maybe an explanation for his earlier boldness.

Seonghwa's fingers explored even further. Roamed over his knuckles, through mountains and valleys of protruding veins. He slipped down the slope of the man's left ring finger.

Nothing.

No bump of metal.

When did he stop wearing his wedding ring?

"Class was dismissed over an hour ago," Professor Kim repeated in a haunting whisper, an octave lower and devoid of emotion. The self-loathing over his impulses was evident in each shaky inhale. He used his imposing height to bend Seonghwa's frame to his will, fingers gripping the desk with white knuckles of restraint, claiming the slice of air separating them as his own. The firm length prodding Seonghwa surged against the pleats of his skirt with a cowardly roll of his hips. Testing the feel of him. "You should leave."

He wound his fingers in Seonghwa's skirt above his thigh, refusing to let go of the fabric. To let go of him. The stubble on his cheek stabbed the sensitive skin of Seonghwa's face as he bowed his head to speak directly into his ear, "Go." He let Seonghwa's skirt slip free of his grasp. His arm hung limp at his side.

He was dismissing Park Seonghwa.

Though Professor Kim said as much, he left Seonghwa little room to actually go. His body was pinned down by the professor's inability to surrender to his vices, or give them up completely.

Seonghwa wiggled out from under his looming presence, savoring his sharp inhale and groan when Seonghwa lurched his hips to drag along him, the unmistakable sensation of his professor's cock following his lead.

How insulting. Nothing would break this man. And it was another knife to Seonghwa's inflated ego.

He climbed the stairs in a rush, resting his hand on the handle. The cold metal seared into his hot palm, though the heat dissipated quickly from the professor's lingering warmth. The chill seeped into his skin, mocking his affinity for the man, erasing the weight of his chest pressed against Seonghwa's from memory.

Maybe it was better that way.

Surely ripe for punishment, Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder. One last look before the winter break. A final impression of what he meant to him. Would Professor Kim wave? Tell him to lock the door? Wish him a happy holiday?

Professor Kim was at his desk. Standing in the same position as before, though slightly altered. His lush black hair hid his face from view. Hands curled into fists, arms like pillars keeping him from collapsing completely as his shoulders hunched further.

Utterly destitute.

Good.

Seonghwa twisted the handle.

He didn't move. Didn't address him. Didn't explain, apologize, or act in the ways Seonghwa hoped.

He denied him.

The lock clicked behind him as Seonghwa left.

The festive spirit of the holiday gave way to the flat reception of classes resuming, then to an all-out stomach-churning response to Professor Kim's lectures. Seonghwa stopped arriving early, and Professor Kim stopped asking him to stay late. Seonghwa stopped speaking up in class, and Professor Kim repressed any compulsion to interact with him. Seonghwa ignored him. He ignored Seonghwa.

A wonderful arrangement that lasted all of two weeks before one of them broke.

Professor Kim allowed his eyes to wander over Seonghwa's frame as he entered the room on the day graded papers were handed back, and Seonghwa found himself packing away his things slowly after everyone else had left.

In their time apart, Professor Kim had graduated from grumpy teacher to full-on curmudgeon, scaring off students in record time with a single glare from behind his disorganized desk, but the giant red F bleeding into the crevices of Seonghwa's paper just wouldn't do.

"...So, in conclusion," Seonghwa ranted, circling two points on the board until the poor stick of chalk in his tight grip chipped to a stub, "I believe my interpretation is perfectly logical and that you, my astute Professor, could make an exception and bend the rules just the tiniest amount and raise my grade to a C, at the very least, as I deserve."

He faced Professor Kim for the first time since he sauntered up to the chalkboard. It was a good sign he didn't immediately ask Seonghwa to leave, but his only contributions to the conversation were in the form of hums of disapproval or one-word rejections. So, when Seonghwa turned to him and he beamed his usual impish grin - legs straight out and crossed at the ankle, sleeves rolled up and arms tucked behind his head as he swiveled in his chair - he was unnerved, but grateful.

Silence fell thick between them. Professor Kim's eyes went unfocused, considering something in his head. Seonghwa dawdled at the board, scrutinizing his points, seeking counterarguments for anything Professor Kim might throw at him. Anything to get his mind off the way that gaze made his nerves hum, the same nerves that had summoned the gumption in him to wear his shortest skirt that morning after two weeks of wearing jeans.

Professor Kim cocked his head. The silence broke. "I'll bend the rules if you bend over my desk."

Boldfaced shock slackened Seonghwa's jaw. "What?"

"It's what I deserve," Professor Kim asserted, using Seonghwa's own choice of words. "It's only fair." He jerked his chin twice at his desk, smirk pulling taut at his lips. "Bend over it and I'll consider changing your grade."

Seonghwa hesitated. His face flickered with visible uncertainty, tension as palpable as morning fog sticking to his skin. A gulp in his throat boomed loud in the two feet that kept him from falling into the professor's lap.

"Bend over your desk," Seonghwa repeated in a monotone voice. Somewhat composed on the outside, but his head swam in amusement, making it difficult to keep a shimmy out of his shoulders when he clinked the chalk on the metal tray.

He didn't believe Professor Kim for a second.

His shoes clacked on the wood-paneled floor as he walked to the oak desk, rapping his knuckles on it. Knocking on it the same way he should be on his skull to check where his brain cells had gone off to. Professor Kim had never made advances. Never followed through with him. What could have changed?

He slid his pupils to the professor. He remained statuesque, watching Seonghwa, rapt. Seonghwa tilted his head, pitched his voice in light innocence. "Going to give me a D, sir?"

"Stop talking and find out," Professor Kim said, his deep rasp leaving no room for argument.

His threats were all bark, no bite. Wastes of air on paltry promises. But surely, once Seonghwa obeyed him, he would not be able to resist. Please, God, don't resist. He needed to be fucked by the professor.

Seonghwa pivoted. Spreading his feet, he lined his hips with the edge of the desk and leaned until his fingertips made contact, his clammy palms flat against the surface of the well-made, durable desk.

Scratches and divots in the wood grain tickled his fingertips as he dropped his chest, his hard nipples excited by the cool veneer gliding along his thin blouse. His hamstrings pulled taut with the stretch. At the end, he crossed his arms and rested his chin on his forearms. Getting comfortable. A sharp right angle bent over the desk.

"Going to spank me with a ruler?" The shuffling alerted him to Professor Kim sitting up in his chair; the menacing rubbing of his calloused palms together drew nearer and nearer. His warm sigh blew on the back of Seonghwa's legs.

"After you've teased my cock for months on end?" Professor Kim ran his knuckles over the goosebumps on Seonghwa's thigh with one hand, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly with the other. "Not a chance in hell I'd stop there."

Hongjoong  dove his hand into his pants, gripping himself over his boxer briefs. Not now. Not yet. He had to ravish Seonghwa first.

His hands slid up, groping Seonghwa's ass. One cheek in each. Giving them a hard squeeze and laughing at Seonghwa's pitiful whine. "Sweetheart," he said hoarsely, "you'll have to stay quiet if you want to have fun." He reared his left hand back and smacked. Seonghwa muffled his cry. His right hand slapped ripples in his soft flesh.

"Mmph!" At least he had the decency to hush the tears sparkling in the corner of Seonghwa's eyes by following them up with a gentle caress.

Rolling his chair up to him, his knees settled between Seonghwa's and his need was about even with Professor Kim's face. His breath graced Seonghwa's stinging skin. A shy touch of his lips on the sore spots as an apology. And yet, he raised his hand and spanked again. Harder. Echoing in the empty room along with Seonghwa's cry.

"Professor!" The motion flung him forward, dragging his nipples over the rough texture of the askew mousepad. Knocking over the mug of pens, he arched his hips even more, exhilarating sensations tingling from the top of his head to his curled toes.

"Shh," His useless shushing lasted all but seconds until his puckered lips relaxed, then curled wickedly. Professor Kim clamped down on his flesh. Teeth, nails, fingers digging for purchase, his canines bruising.

His hands roamed where they wanted. Along the fronts of Seonghwa's thighs until the edge of the desk impeded them, massaging the tight muscles responding to his fervent affection. Climbing his legs to cup his buttcheeks and bring them to his mouth for more love bites, tasting, running his thumb along the length of Seonghwa's white cotton panties. He pried his thighs apart, smashing them together, coaxing his pussy to swallow the fabric in response to his kneading.

Seonghwa had grappled the edge of the desk to anchor himself there nice and steady while Professor Kim had his way. His excruciating, aggravatingly slow way.

"You want my lips somewhere else, baby?" he asked after Seonghwa huffed a wordless complaint and swayed his hips, not at all subtle in his longing to have Professor Kim's mouth on his wet heat. "Need your professor's tongue to treat you well after failing your assignment?"

What a cruel man to fan flames of embarrassment to Seonghwa's already burning, panting state; bent over the desk and begging him to finally fuck him after he had the audacity to roll up his sleeves and taunt him with his obvious massive erection casting a shadow across his lap.

"Please."

Seonghwa's shaky utterance of that single word evoked something within Hongjoong.

Hongjoong's quivering lips pressed to the arousal-soaked cotton of Seonghwa's white panties. Tender, a moderate kiss over the fabric that riled his cock, concealing what he coveted most.

Hongjoong's teeming excitement showed itself in the way he kissed Seonghwa's cunt. Controlled kisses waning into sloppy licks. Short flicks at first, darting over his lips. Then full licks up the slit, tracing the outline and nudging the fabric stiffer over his bundle of nerves the more he opened his mouth and worked his tongue. His nose to the entrance and his tongue exploring down, down, down the slope, over the curve in pursuit of the reason Seonghwa moaned his title so sultrily and feebly it sent a throb from his balls to leak from his cock.

"Professor…" Seonghwa sighed, fingernails denting semicircles in the underside of the polished edge of Hongjoong's desk. Rising to his tippy toes in order to elevate his hips and grant the professor access to feast where he desired.

And hungry Hongjoong was. Starving. Weeks, months, years without a good meal to satisfy his cravings.

The tip of Hongjoong's tongue traced the bump of Seonghwa's clit, held prisoner by his panties. Caged, locked away from him. He sealed his plush, full lips to it, gathered Seonghwa in his mouth full of thick saliva, and suckled. 

The gratification was immediate. 

Seonghwa's thighs clenched around his face. He shoved backward in desperation. Stomped his foot. His too-loud moan sent a shiver down his spine, the sound catching in the deep hum vibrating from Hongjoong's throat to his clit.

When Hongjoong spoke, he carefully enunciated each word, projected the plosive P's. "Poor girl," he jested, words murmured against Seonghwa's swollen need. "Can't handle a few minutes of teasing after you've done the same to me? Pleading for my cock. Prancing around here begging for me to fuck you."

A single finger slipped under Seonghwa's twisted panties. He went pliant.

"Bad girl," Hongjoong groaned, shoving them to the side.

"Bad girl," he lauded, wheezing at the beautiful display of wanton lust glistening for him.

"Bad girl," he praised with conviction, spanking Seonghwa's ass so hard his vision crossed and vestiges of stars danced in the foreground of the rows of tables and chairs.

"Fuck!" Seonghwa groaned to the back of his hand, quieting himself.

Hongjoong's whole body responded, from his jutting cock to his supple tongue fawning over Seonghwa's clit, up to savor his arousal, planting harsh kisses where he saw fit. Ragged breaths sent chills over the most sensitive parts of Seonghwa's body, gone vulnerable in the professor's craze as he removed his panties.

Seonghwa's pussy was free from its cage.

Hongjoong let himself go.

His arms weighed heavily on the dip of Seonghwa's back, hands rubbing soothing circles while he flexed his biceps; capturing Seonghwa in his vise, hiking his hips, tilting them further. Ensuring Seonghwa's quaking thighs could no longer jerk away from his ravenous mouth. He waited too long for this. Agonized as the seasons morphed and Seonghwa reaped the benefits of his undivided attention. Took advantage of his fondness, only to deprive him of it when, at last, he almost gave in to his sins. He was so close. So close to taking him then. But he didn't. And Seonghwa made him pay dearly for it.

Now Seonghwa had to endure his consequences.

Hongjoong's tongue honed in on Seonghwa's undressed clit. Twitching the tip over it. Smoothing the whole length of it to cherish it. Pausing to savor what Seonghwa spilled for him, returning at once to adore him in kisses and sucking until Seonghwa was gasping, writhing, squirming from his talent. Legs shaking past the point of holding his weight. Humid huffs panting over the wood desk where Seonghwa's cheek stuck to it.

He mustered what little voice he had left to stutter out a sigh of, "Sir," letting out wanton moans as his orgasm approached closer.

At Seonghwa's brink, Hongjoong stopped his ministrations.

He commended him with a lingering, blissful lick before tormenting him with suspense, stopping just short of his peak, and instead offering a lazy kiss as he adjusted his chair and pushed himself away, then crashed his knees into the hinge of Seonghwa's, forcing him to flounder and fall into his lap.

His sudden switch in activities foretold his plan. Seonghwa had a very long night ahead.

Orgasm delayed, Seonghwa tried to tense his thighs to give himself some amount of pleasure, enough to build the waves of impending release again, but Hongjoong's legs between his were not an accident. His dark chuckle in Seonghwa's ear told him as much. He designed this from the start.

He nipped at Seonghwa's neck, his heartbeat pulsing against his clit. "Does your professor's cock feel good?"

Seonghwa forced his focus from the professor's overbearing hands ripping the buttons from his blouse and the palm cupping over his mound to pull him along his robust length situated between his ass; the heel of his palm shaping just over where he wanted it most. Professor Kim’s briefs were soaked with Seonghwa's fluids, acting as a barrier to entry as he grinded him up and down, pussy lips straddling the older man's cock.

"So good." Seonghwa dropped his head to Professor Kim’s shoulder and kissed his strong jaw, both of them battling for control in moving hips and greedy lips. "I love my professor's cock. It feels so fucking good." He ground on his length, tipping his hips at the end to send the professor's palm over his clit, arching to his fingers prodding under his bra. It spurred him on. He picked up speed, delivering sultry gasps and moans to his neck. "It's so big, Professor… Please fill me… I need it." He pouted his bottom lip and kissed the side of his sly mouth. "I've been bad. Punish me."

"Oh, I'll punish you-"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Under the desk." Professor Kim ushered Seonghwa with a slap on the thigh like an unruly animal he had to herd, and damn him for liking it.

Like a leaf caught in a raging stream, Seonghwa slid from the professor's bouncing legs and landed on his knees. He crawled into the darkness obscured by the wood panel on the desk and spun around to look up at the approving smile on the professor’s face, provoking a matching one on Seonghwa's lips as they shared a bubbling chortle escalating into a smothered laugh.

"Shh!" Professor Kim held his finger to his lips, shoulders jerking, suppressing the child-like devilry taking over his body at the sight of Seonghwa down there. In the pause between another thump on the door, he rolled his chair in and Seonghwa backed up, giving him room to open his legs around his body. Before Professor Kim averted his eyes to the door, he gave Seonghwa a look that promised this interruption would be short-lived. A brief respite. Then he'd make it up to him.

"Come in."

The words reverberated off the enclosure of Seonghwa's hiding spot. It rang in his ears as the doorknob squeaked and turned downward. Professor Kim sat flush with the desk, securing himself to the edge and blocking his lap from view in a large shadow.

How often did he sit like this while in class, hardly able to contain his erection from witnesses? Seonghwa couldn't keep the noise from escaping; he pressed his lips together and exhaled faintly through his nose, but Professor Kim still heard him moan.

He heard Seonghwa's disobedience and reprimanded him.

Professor Kim ordered Seonghwa to be quiet once more by pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger; his thick fingers sparking a sharp thrill of pain to Seonghwa's mouth, the same as he did to his stinging ass. Pleased by his mute respect, he let go and settled his large palm on his thigh, his trousers struggling to bear the constricting muscles and his briefs tenting a cock featured most prominently in Seonghwa's eyeline.

The door swung open.

Professor Kim’s body slumped. Though Seonghwa couldn't see why, the older guy’s sudden change in mood resulted in his frame curling inward. His wonderful hand with fingers Seonghwa was seconds away from sucking moved, abandoning his thigh to lean on his forearms and stare down the one who invaded his privacy.

Leisurely footsteps descended the stairs of the lecture hall.

He grabbed a pen from his top-heavy mug that spilled at the slightest bump, removing, then replacing the cap. Clicking the end again and again.

Whoever it was, whatever they were here for; it affected the professor. Going from lively, if not unabashedly horny, to exhausted and nursing a quiet growl of misery when the trespasser ruined his self-indulgence one step at a time.

He needed to be consoled, and Seonghwa knew exactly how.

He settled into position, knees spread, and wrapped his hands around Professor Kim’s ankles. The professor shifted at first, wondering what Seonghwa was up to, but relaxed when he started massaging up his legs. Hard caresses of his thumb into the calves. Squeezing his fingers into the muscle. Watching the tension seep from the professor's body; the weight that had pulled his chest concave lifted as time went on and Seonghwa tended to him.

"You left your copy of the paperwork on my kitchen table."

Seonghwa deflated.

Professor Kim clicked the pen. My table, he sneered.

The voice belonged to a woman.

Her table.

He left something at a woman's house?

Seonghwa cupped his calf and brought his knee in, favoring it in many kisses. Quick pecks turned to gradual open-mouthed hushed touches of his lips on the professor's trousers - claiming him. He filled his chest with resolve and plunged his hand under the desk, blanketing Seonghwa's which was rubbing along his firm thigh.

"It's important," the woman chastised. "Might want to keep track of it?" She stopped in front of his desk.

Seonghwa kissed his professor's inner thigh, using teeth when necessary to divert more of the man's focus to him; accumulate all of his attention and hoard it like a shiny treasure. This woman didn't deserve it. 

When Seonghwa spoke to Professor Kim that way, it was in jest and the other man reacted in a lighthearted way. When this woman berated him in her nasal voice, it was to put him down.

His fingers swept over Seonghwa's. His thumb slotted itself into Seonghwa's palm, infusing a strange calmness into his temperament. Holding his hand when he was facing something difficult.

"Why're you even here?" Disgust erupted from the pit of Professor Kim’s diaphragm. "I gave you your keys weeks ago."

Something was tossed onto the desk above Seonghwa's head then.

Professor Kim’s hand left his, now cold and lonely. Then scalding hot with desire when he pried Seonghwa's loving strokes from his thigh and guided his deft fingers to his lap. To the opening of his trousers, folded over and peeled away to reveal his cock.

He enclosed Seonghwa's fingers over it. Tapped once. Seonghwa understood.

"And you should've taken it with you then. I found it in the mess you left behind under a stack of schoolwork dated from last year. I shouldn't be surprised you're so disorganized after all this time, but you still manage to amaze me. I mean, just look at your desk."

Eavesdropping shouldn't excite Seonghwa like this, but the thrill of pressing a gentle kiss to Hongjoong's tip over his briefs and watching his stomach jump, and draining the insecurity from his meek voice was its own reward. Especially when he had just started and already, those strong hands grasped his thighs in effort to stay collected under the woman's narrowed eye scrutiny.

Stuffing his mouth, gorging, a total glutton for Hongjoong's still-covered length, Seonghwa stretched his lips over his girth and sucked on his tip. Cradling the underside and working it in delicate rolls from the back of his tongue, drawing back to drench his head in spit and precum, tasting him and swallowing to keep it all, his focus and attention, for himself.

"Soyeon," Hongjoong exhaled; a grand undertaking to make it sound bored and not at all like he was seconds from moaning his student's name, "unless you have something important to say, leave."

Seonghwa wound his hand around the opening of his professor’s briefs and unveiled his present as Professor Kim cleared his throat and shuffled his feet to cover the jangle of his belt buckle falling to the side.

His cock. His cock with its leaking reddened tip and impressive size tempted Seonghwa as much as it daunted him. Warming him up with his tongue, Seonghwa lapped the precum cultivated just for him to enjoy and honored him with a silent kiss before delving in. Wetting his lips, stretching them over him - slowly - in no rush to have his hollowed cheeks break suction and bring the wrong kind of attention upon himself.

It was already difficult enough to swallow more than the first three inches. He wanted it all. To cover him in appreciation. Not to admit defeat and pump his hand the rest of what his mouth could not handle without risking a moan of pure euphoria when he twitched, filling him whole.

"Are you ever going to explain yourself? Apologize to me?"

"You were the one who decided this in the first place. I have nothing else to volunteer, nor disclose."

She shifted her weight. Bounced her heel. Clack, clack, clack on the floor.

Hongjoong scooted to the edge of his seat, shoving his hips forward. It was a true miracle Seonghwa did not gag on him and blow his cover right then and there, but by the grace of Hongjoong's thumb sweeping over his sunken cheek, he unhinged his jaw and accepted his tip at the back of his throat with all the patience of a saint.

"You should leave," he said, scribbling nonsensical shapes on the important document in front of him. "I'm a busy man, as you know."

"Oh, I'm sure. Always here. Never home." She tutted, whirling around to the direction she entered from, briskly crossing a few steps before stopping at the stairs. "Bye." A tremor of hope laced her voice. Hongjoong quickly eviscerated it.

"Bye." He flapped his hand in a childish wave, doing his best to keep the smugness from coming through and failing. If she heard it, she ignored it and climbed the stairs for the door.

Hongjoong's thumb dug into Seonghwa's cheek while his index on the other side prodded into his gums, cupping his jaw. He cranked his mouth open to his whims, using his grip as leverage to abide by his wish. Gaping, welcoming his untamed urge to relieve his professor of the stress this woman caused.

As her footsteps faded, Seonghwa became braver. Overcome in the moment to challenge her in an unknown race. His mouth versus her stride.

Hongjoong ruts like an animal, micro-thrusts of his pelvis at the edge of his chair. He quickens the pace the further she walks away from him and his life, then releases his iron grip on Seonghwa's mouth and combs his fingers through the boy's hair instead, ensnaring the sensitive skin above his nape.

His heaving chest should've been a warning.

He shoved Seonghwa down his cock, driving him to the point where his hand stroking him in tandem was useless, using it to fist his trousers in frightful clutches instead. He could not hold back anymore.

He moaned. Cried, even. Tears building at the dam of his eyelashes.

"Lock the door on your way out," he called to the woman.

She did as she was told. Depressed the lock, clicked it shut behind her without a follow-up question as to what caused the movement of his arm under his desk, what the strange sounds were, nor the high flush on his cheeks.

Professor Kim rolled his chair back and Seonghwa followed his lead, stumbling forward on aching knees, still attached to his professor's perfect cock.

He slouched, lolling his head to the side, observing Seonghwa's face buried in his lap, his wet eyes meeting his. His kind hands brushed Seonghwa's hair out of the way with a sympathetic graze of his thumb on his temple while his other hand wiped away his tears. He guides his head up and down, bobbing on his length, tongue pacifying his haughty nature after his spat with the woman. She was gone and Seonghwa worked his charm on him.

"Such a naughty girl." They locked gazes; his prideful and Seonghwa's submissive in turn. "That was fun."

Eager and vicious, Seonghwa sucked from base to tip, swirled his tongue over Hongjoong's throbbing head and placed a kiss on the very tip, smearing his precum on his lips. Something spoke to the primal beast within him, judging by the way he squirmed in his seat and his pupils bloomed black, breathing heavy but silently.

"I love your cock so much, Professor… I've wanted you to fuck me with it for so long..." He says, laying Hongjoong's cock on his face so he could kiss the thick vein buzzing against his lips while begging, eyebrows pinched and overstating his pout by clasping his hands to his lap to prop up his cleavage. "Please fuck me with it."

He pulled Seonghwa up by his chin, doubling over at his waist to close the rest of the distance between them. He lifted Seonghwa's skirt, groped his ass, slid his palm over it, fingers exploring further to his sopping wet cunt, earnest in its need to be punished.

Two fingers slipped in easily. He tasted the sweat on Seonghwa's neck. Stretched him with a third. "You sure you're ready for more, sweetheart?" he asked once he met resistance.

"I've been ready."

His gruff voice, steeped in want, ordered him, "Then, bend over my desk."

"Yes, sir."

Returning to the position he was in before he was so rudely interrupted, Seonghwa flattened his chest to the desk, wiggling his tantalizing ass at Hongjoong. The professor freed his cock from his briefs, shoved all fabric aside, and threw his tie over his shoulder. With Seonghwa's skirt flipped to expose him, Hongjoong's rough hands ran over his curves, eyes drifting in their stead, admiring how Seonghwa offered himself up so willingly, and how he crumbled under the tease of his thumb gliding the length of Seonghwa's needy cunt. He teased him in slippery circles over his clit, craving the friction Seonghwa deserved after servicing his cock.

Tempting each other to the edge of relief, but never letting themselves fully fall.

"I'll be taking these." Hongjoong gave him no pause to guess what he was referring to as his panties were tugged even further down his thighs until it fell to his ankles, where he stepped out of them, and they were safely tucked away in the top drawer of Hongjoong's desk.

"Fuck, babe," Hongjoong groaned, his raging cock nestled along Seonghwa's entrance. He clapped his cheeks together to enclose it there, dragging Seonghwa's hips, rolling them slow and sensual. Relishing the connection, his cock finally meeting Seonghwa's enthusiasm, no longer settling for his hands with a bit of lotion.

Seonghwa's mouth, hands, pussy - all crafted for Hongjoong's pleasure.

He should be commended for his ability to not bust with Seonghwa giving him a blow job under his desk earlier. He should be exalted for not cumming on his back like he was near to do with just a few more unruly thrusts-

Whilst he was busy dwelling on the topic of edging versus self-imposed torture, Seonghwa couldn't help but notice the manila folder stuck under his boobs. The white papers fanned out over the top of the desk, his heart raced, shouting at him to peep, to look. Who was that woman and what was she here for? He peeled back the edge of the folder.

Hongjoong panted out a string of tangled, half-formed syllables between the jumbled consonants spilling out and punctuated them with a moan of Seonghwa's name. "So fucking- So fucking good. You feel so fucking good."

Hongjoong's lubed cock was so slick it slipped down Seonghwa's cheeks, his tip prodded his entrance. A silent plea to allow him to fuck. To come. Finally. Please let him come.

"You're fucking me on your divorce papers?" Seonghwa snorted. "That was your ex-wife?"

Seonghwa had no time to react as his scalp suddenly tingled, hair grasped in Hongjoong's grip. His cunt throbbed even more, receiving only half of him, muscles frozen, body carved to accommodate his professor.

He pressed his chest to Seonghwa's back and shoved the file, flinging it to the floor, raining white sheets of paper. Pens and metal paper clips clattered on the floor, yet his carnal heat warming Seonghwa's chilled skin was all that mattered.

Again, the entirety of Seonghwa belonged to him. His mouth? His. The drool pooling over the edge of his bottom lip? Also his. Seonghwa's moan when he pitched his hips, slapping them to his ass, mouth gaped in surprise? Most definitely his.

His smirk blurred before Seonghwa's half-lidded eyes, stinging from the initial thrust of his cock. "Knew you couldn't handle me, I'm not even in all the way yet," he rasped in Seonghwa's ear, grazing his teeth over his pulse. He kissed him gently from ear to chin, removing his hand-muzzle to place his lips at the junction of Seonghwa's, forehead pressed to temple, eyes soft, but intense. "You've been a naughty girl, going through your professor's belongings," he murmured. "You need to be taught a lesson."

Seonghwa's back landed on something solid - the desk, he realizes - with his legs stuck up in the air, being manipulated not of his own accord. Disoriented, Seonghwa willed himself to zero in on Hongjoong's face: wild, erotic, and so blatantly aroused at his captivated self, legs wide open, and addicted to his touch.

He loomed between Seonghwa's legs encircling his waist. His cock was a pillar of pent-up urges, everything his marriage had denied him.

And Seonghwa and his soft body. Laying under him. Yearning for him to use it, ruin it, and have him coming back for more. Someone who wanted him as he was. Who returned his passion. Returned the new-relationship lust he so missed, starting something new and preserving the flames, not letting them snuff out, leaving him bereft, alone in the dark.

Seonghwa's eyes were shining, longing, staring up at him. Subdued, Hongjoong watched Seonghwa want him even more.

One by one, Seonghwa unbuttoned the rest of his blouse, finishing the job meticulously and pointlessly, considering the rest of the buttons were ripped off and lost to the shadows on the floor. The shirt fell away in stark halves as he exposed his shameless naked skin. Chest rising and stomach falling, he rolled onto his elbows to unclasp his bra.

His shirt and bra were thrown onto the litter of paper, pens, and metal paper clips. Seonghwa, heated under Hongjoong's adoring gaze, felt flattered.

Hongjoong's thumb worked itself in consoling swipes on the curvature of Seonghwa's thigh to ass. Perhaps as an apology for pulling his hair. Perhaps communicating that this moment meant more to him than he let Seonghwa believe. Perhaps to stall for time so this wasn't over in a matter of seconds.

Seonghwa waited.

His unwavering gaze took Seonghwa in piece by piece. His gaze observed features previously hidden, though he felt like he knew them by heart from Seonghwa's promiscuous photos. Now, he could study his favorite subject in all its glory. Memorize the dip above Seonghwa's clavicle, until he could stand it no longer and switch to fathoming the contours flowing from his breasts instead, down his stomach, over his bunched skirt, and to Hongjoong's hand lurking near the sharp peak of Seonghwa's sex kissing his.

He etched Seonghwa in his mind for future reference.

Goosebumps skittered in the wake of his docile trail over Seonghwa's pelvis. Eventually, he woke from his reverie and became aware of Seonghwa's thinning patience, and the ever-present siren's song of his tits. A striking downfall.

"Going to stand there and drool over me, or are you going to fuck me?" Seonghwa grinned, an eyebrow raised in a challenge. "I thought you were hellbent on punishing me, sir."

Fuck his tits. He could have Seonghwa contorting under the pleasure of his tongue any other day. Tonight was about him. And about Seonghwa paying him back for all the favors he owed him.

Vengeful hands moved up Seonghwa's writhing body, fitting to his palms. Chasing the heady high he evoked in the simplest brushes of skin-on-skin contact. Seonghwa's body opened up, greeted his hunger, arms embracing him. Hands grasping and fingernails tracing his spine to cradle the back of his head to Seonghwa's neck.

He drew his hips back, cock sliding over Seonghwa's clit to rest the swollen edge of his tip perfectly where he requested. Seonghwa's thigh squeezed around his middle, back arched, hard nipples imprinted on his wrinkled work shirt.

"Sweetheart." He petted Seonghwa's hair away from his face with a trembling hand, licking his lips, a rush of recklessness overcoming him. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll get straight A's for the rest of the year."

He kissed Seonghwa's cheek. Maybe an apology. Maybe something more. Maybe to give him a dose of wide-eyed preparation before reality split him in half.

"Fuck!" Seonghwa curses as all of his muscles seized, the man above him wrecking him like a spiteful God. Expelling expletives, he gasped at Hongjoong's evil, smitten laugh shaking his core so violently. "Professor," Seonghwa whined.

He bottomed out - one powerful thrust of his hips to Seonghwa's pillowy ass. The desk drawer rattled. The computer monitor swayed ominously. His tie swung from his shoulder in the sudden exertion. He threw it back flippantly.

This was his everything. His shaft hugged Seonghwa. His tip leaking to the man's very depths. Sore cunt stretched to its limits.

"Call me by my name when you're under me."

There it was; that dangerous edge of gleaming tenderness in his gaze beholding Seonghwa in the threat of his command. How dare he press a kiss to his temple like a lover when he was wrought with pain.

"Hongjoong." The feral moan after Seonghwa whispered his name spread from his chest to the other man, mingled in the knot of nerves in his belly.

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa repeated, more confident. He had been craving his cock. He wanted him to show why that was a bad thing. To show why he was a bad student for seducing his teacher for gain.

Hongjoong used his strained muscles to push himself off Seonghwa. Reluctant, prolonging the magnificent sensation of Seonghwa's fingers latching themselves in his hair, tugging it. But they fell away. Dropped his hold on him, his arms to the desk, like fine silk amongst trash Hongjoong should've tossed ages ago.

Seonghwa surrendered to him.

Hongjoong rolled from his forearms to his hands on either side of Seonghwa, flexing under the duress of not moving his lower half. Steeling himself against the primal voice in his head that shouted at him to take it all. Take it now. Fast. Hard.

Soon, he would. Soon. But he had more foreplay in store.

His insatiable fingers skimmed the peach fuzz standing erect on Seonghwa's ribs, up to his chest. Walking each digit to the spot Seonghwa hypnotized him with on days he forgot to turn on the heater during the winter, or on Fridays when Seonghwa forgot to wear a bra and knew he bombed his exam.

He traced Seonghwa's nipple. One finger, two. Pinched it lightly. Pinched it harder. Fluttered his eyelids closed at the way Seonghwa struggled to clench around his cock.

His other hand sought lower. One finger, two. Rubbed down Seonghwa's clit, up. Side to side. Circles. Whatever the fuck made Seonghwa squirm, tense his thighs painfully tight, clutch the air straight from Hongjoong's lungs. He opened his eyes, massaging Seonghwa's inner muscles along his swollen cockhead.

"You're enjoying this?" Hongjoong's hoarse voice cut through Seonghwa's moans. Breaths twisted in the space between them.

"Yes, God, yes…"

He watched Seonghwa, head tilted to the side, face neutral, flushed pink from his cheeks to under his collar. "Hm."

He retreated his hips, unsheathed his glistening tip, admired how wet it was with Seonghwa's want, and rammed it back in - shivering in the near-orgasmic haze of Seonghwa's gasp of his name. Once, twice. Unyielding to the water in Seonghwa's eyes, he found it rather adorable how Seonghwa's fingers hooked around his like a tourniquet, not used to accommodating his size.

Tears leaked from Seonghwa's eyes. It slicked his palm, a sheen on his forehead.

Hongjoong dropped his head back, pant by pant; the ceiling being the last thing he saw through the black curls of his lashes.

Hongjoong started thrusting into Seonghwa, relentless, burned by the smouldering coals in his core. Long had it been since he experienced this fire with another person. One who lusted for him so obviously. Each smack of skin on skin and slip of his cock welcomed by Seonghwa's warm cunt reminded him of what he so thoroughly missed: Fulfillment. 

When Seonghwa opened his palm, Hongjoong inserted his fingers, lacing them with his. 

He opened his eyes and looked down.

His rhythm skipped a beat.

Attentive eyes beamed up at him; bright with passion, yet half-closed in ecstasy. Plump lips spouted encouragement to go faster, go slower, whatever the bundle of nerves stuck under his fingers ordered in between moans of his name and cries of pain-mixed-pleasure. Only now did it occur to him that he had stopped rubbing Seonghwa's clit altogether - the drastic decrease of blood supply to his brain was affecting him.

It was hard to admit, but as much as he wanted this to be about him enacting a fantasy Seonghwa had woven for him since the start of school, to use him like an object to get off to before returning to their roles of student and teacher, the arching of Seonghwa's back and the tightening of Seonghwa's grip on his hand swept him up into a whole host of confusing emotions he did not have time to comprehend.

It was all so appealing. And unattainable. Inappropriate.

His eyelids fell to slits, sure that Seonghwa's bouncing chest at his punishing pace would be enough to come while drowning out those unwelcome feelings. He increased his speed, pressing his fingertips to Seonghwa's clit. Letting the vigor of his pounding send them coasting over it.

Every buck of his hips sent the desk moving, rocking items in the wake of his eagerness. Each one a witness to a teacher fucking his student because he was owed.

His eyes screwed shut. Only the sound of his guttural panting and Seonghwa's high-pitched moan-whines.

And his tie choking him.

And his shirt going tight.

And his torso being hurled forward.

He faced his reality inches from Seonghwa's nose.

Seonghwa had snatched his tie, his calves clamped over Hongjoong's ass, shoving his length to Seonghwa's pussy. He ground on his cock, rolling his hips in time with Hongjoong's now that he shocked him to a slower tempo. Much slower... Like this, physically close and mentally vulnerable. Seonghwa's chest was curled to his, using Hongjoong's weight as a counterbalance to ride him though he was the one in the dominant position.

Names held power. Seonghwa moaned his so freely and Hongjoong uttered his in full-body shudders.

His fingers said it in how they massaged Seonghwa's clit. His hand said it in how significant Seonghwa's grip was on it. His cock said it in a twitch against the place he wished to revisit over and over again. His muscles said it in how they held his orgasm ransom, not letting loose until his heart gave in completely.

And he said it especially loud when his lips landed on Seonghwa's.

Shouted it, even, when Seonghwa's back collided with the desk and Hongjoong followed suit, possessive over his mouth; absolutely enthralled with what Seonghwa's lips felt like parting for his cock and, right now, his tongue.

Their joined hands crashed to the solid oak, sliding up to Seonghwa's wild spread of hair. Jutting elbows set off a chaotic series of toppling folders, knocking the mouse over the edge, shoving the keyboard, leveling a stack of index cards, and tumbling the mug of pens to an early grave - shattered.

His thrusts turned short and sloppy and sweet. Seonghwa's swollen clit was caressed in quick strokes, Hongjoong's thumb traced the glimmering trail where a tear rolled from the corner of Seonghwa's eye to his hairline in a jagged line. Kisses became too burdensome on his lungs, alternating between open-mouthed pants and held breaths reserved for when they made eye contact.

Seonghwa had let go of his tie to cup his cheek. He held him there and slipped out a moan of his name while staring lovingly at him.

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa sighed. "I'm almost-" He was interrupted by a jerk of Hongjoong's hips to change the angle, allowing him more room to swirl his fingers.

"Ah! Oh, fuck, Prof- Hongjoong!"

He tried harder. He tried faster. Seonghwa's head lulled to the side and Hongjoong nuzzled. No teeth. No marking. No punishment. Just a simple rub of the bridge of his nose along Seonghwa's jaw.

Seonghwa tensed around his fingers, inner thighs quivering against his waist.

"Come for me," Hongjoong pleaded. He was at Seonghwa's mercy. Seonghwa clung to him - his hair, the mousepad. Curved his body to his. Captured him. Consumed him. Stuffed his knuckles in his mouth, ran his tongue over them, drying the trail of spit with breathless praise against his skin.

"Haa- Mmm!" Seonghwa shook as he finally orgasmed, unraveling under his professor’s gaze.

"Good girl," Hongjoong mumbled into the crook of his neck.

He guided Seonghwa through the convulsions. Brought his hand from between his legs and cradled Seonghwa's head, rocking him back and forth as his limbs regained consciousness and the pulses in his cunt drew out the last of Hongjoong's restraint.

"Hold onto me, babe." Seonghwa followed his instructions, clasping his shoulder with the hand previously yanking at his scalp. His other hand was still taken by Hongjoong's, his thumb ever attentive in its pursuit to stroke any part he could reach beside Seonghwa's face. He placed a firm hand on Seonghwa's hip, planting it there to keep him still.

Seonghwa kissed his temple - it was all he could muster, seeing as Hongjoong's face was confined to its hiding spot where it could escape the raw defenselessness of his gaze that showed all.

Finally, Hongjoong picked his head up, and looked Seonghwa in the eye.

Seonghwa gave him a curt nod, signaling he was ready for what Hongjoong had in store. He offered a lopsided grin, telling Seonghwa he could not last for another song.

It began in quick, brisk slaps of his hips. Seonghwa's ebbing orgasm squeezed him in sporadic pulses. Cheering him on. Smiling at him. From under him.

His pace deepened, cock dragging along Seonghwa's walls, base to throbbing head. He leaned on Seonghwa for support - his forehead on his, nose nudging nose, lips a hairsbreadth apart.

Seonghwa endured the mad dash to his climax. Gushing on his cock. His name on Seonghwa's lips. His lips hovering above his. His eyes invoking more than lust.

Sweat dampened his shirt as the desk scraped the floor, something clanging in the drawer, the monitor tipping over the edge-

Hongjoong caught it before it crashed to the floor without taking his eyes off Seonghwa. To do so, he let go of the hand he was using to hold Seonghwa's. The monitor was placed back safely on the desk. His hand was free, so was Seonghwa's. Their wide eyes flashed in non-verbal communication, agreeing on the same thing.

Desperately, they cupped the other's face. Tracing, stroking, outlining, petting messy hair away, rubbing, caressing, and kissing. Oh God, so much kissing. Frenzied, unrestrained kisses. Disorderly, imperfect kisses where their mouths hardly aligned. Passionate, caring kisses fueled by moans.

A hard thrust. Another kiss. A short pump. Hongjoong took Seonghwa's bottom lip in between his while rutting his cockhead deep. He ran his tongue over the bruised flesh, rolling his hips upward. Biting Seonghwa's lip as the sweet spot hugging his cock clenched.

"Ow."

"Sorry-" he panted.

With one last thrust, Hongjoong buried his cock in deep to pour his soul and spill his secrets.

His spasming muscles weakened his knees, tightness draining from his core. The thick vein of his cock throbbed as it filled Seonghwa with cum.

"Babe," he whined. He closed the gap between their lips. Seonghwa hummed an affirmation, gripping him in all the right places.

For not the first time, he could truly convince himself this was an act between two people without unfair implications. Not a favor done unto him. Not him failing to upkeep his morals as a teacher. Just two people having sex and being able to kiss during the height of it without emotional strings attached.

Laying there for some time, his kisses drifted to Seonghwa's chin, his neck. His hands traced idle patterns, kneading themselves on Seonghwa's thighs, cupping his legs and stripping their warmth away. Seonghwa remained draped over the desk, his naked chest bare above it, lower bodies joined, none of them wanting to part their faces further than their lips could reach. Still, Seonghwa had studies to do. Sleep to catch. And Hongjoong had an apartment that was in need of unpacking.

Regretfully, he pulled back his hips, knowing he was not going to use the momentum to push his spent cock back in.

He grasped Seonghwa's hands to lift him up, and Seonghwa grimaced. "As soon as I sit up, everything will come out of me. Where's my underwear?"

"Hm," he drew out the sound and feigned a search. "Who knows."

Seonghwa's glare seared the side of his face, very obviously not looking at him. "Sure, right. I guess I'll just freakin' waddle."

"I'll walk you to your dorm."

Seonghwa returned to his role of the sassy student who got on Professor Kim's nerves. Hongjoong, however, had trouble submitting to his role. The kiss they shared at the end felt so right. So perfect. Validating how he felt when they spent time together, a feeling that had turned from something in his chest into something between their bodies. And all the harm it would cause the both of them if someone found out.

Difficult as it was, Seonghwa put on a mask for him and denied his feelings before the professor could sense them.

"Oh, thanks. What a gentleman." Seonghwa made the effort to roll his eyes and hop off the desk using his help. A groan exhaled from his nose in a gust at the inevitable slicking of his thighs.

Yet Hongjoong's hands remained holding his, a playful smile ticking at the corner of his lips. And Seonghwa tried so hard not to read into it.

"I should, uh…" Hongjoong gestured to his pants and briefs around his ankles, but his words died out in a horrified survey of his desk and the floor in front of it. He let go of Seonghwa to simultaneously pull his trousers up and reel in his keyboard and mouse that Seonghwa had so expertly plugged in for him the other month. "This place is a mess."

"Yup," Seonghwa agreed. He waddled around the desk at the sound of the professor's zipper and the jangle of his belt buckle going secure around his waist. Hongjoong grumbled, checked his watch, and Seonghwa could not stop the offer before it left his tongue, tumbling out like his heap of discarded clothing on the floor, "I can come in early tomorrow and help you clean up. If you want to go home now, I mean. Or I can help you now. Uh-"

"You don't have to do favors like that for me anymore. We don't... We don't have to do this again. I'll just fix your grades, and-"

It was Seonghwa's turn to cut him off, avoiding the professor's nervous stare and the wringing of his hand on the back of his neck. He distracted himself by putting his bra on. "You don't have to give me A's. I know it'll look suspicious. I'll just... write better papers."

They both sighed up at the ceiling. This whole arrangement was a bad idea.

Hongjoong hated himself. It had been years since his ex-wife gave him the time of day for sex. Much less the allowance to please her, give her an orgasm. She found excuses to reject him. He found excuses to stay late at work. She found reasons to text other men. He found reasons to leave the house early.

Setting aside his recent awkwardness around the professor, Seonghwa went to pick up his blouse, but there Hongjoong was, holding it out for him. In silence, Seonghwa thanked him and dressed himself. Only the sound of feet shuffling and fingers twisting around arms sounded between them. Seonghwa winces.

"So..." Seonghwa started.

"So..." Hongjoong finished.

Seonghwa ducked away and grabbed his bag from his chair in the front row. He patted around, checking underneath the table. As he turned around, there the professor was, holding Seonghwa's coat open for him to slide his arms into. He did, and thanked him without words.

The absence of words and eye contact grew as stale as the sweat drying on Seonghwa's back. Hongjoong rocked on his heels, glancing at his desk. Imagining what had happened on top of it. Seonghwa fiddled with the edge of his skirt and then just went for it.

He reached out, two hands around the professor's tie, wiggling it back and forth. Squeezing, cinching it up - he fixed it for him, smoothed it flat against his chest, and brushed invisible dust off his shoulder.

The professor's shaky inhale was Seonghwa's only warning. Not that he required one.

A hand embraced his tilted head, arms crushing him to the professor's chest, eyes locked onto his - Seonghwa jerked him by the tie and their lips joined in a blaze. Their bodies lunging into one another, snapping tight. Cozied together in one bundle of entangled limbs.

Giggling, kissing, Seonghwa left wet smooches on the professor's forehead, climbing the stairs backwards to the door, never taking his eyes off him. Exchanging flirtatious smiles.

Behind him, Seonghwa grabbed the knob. Cold metal in place of the warm back he was clawing at moments ago. The knob swiveled down, clicked. The door was left in purgatory. Neither open nor shut.

"Can we do this again?"

Hongjoong asked, or maybe Seonghwa asked. Air, breath, words, thoughts, wants, needs, hopes, and dreams were all muddled in one.

"Yes."

As wintry ice melted, spring petals stuck to the bottom of shoes carried by mud to dirty the floors of Hongjoong's classroom.

Class was dismissed hours ago.

Seonghwa's fingers ached from devoting all his energy to his dissertation. So many hours spent staring at his laptop's screen, brain stimulated by copious amounts of coffee, disposable cups scattered around his dorm. Abhorrent, really, to put a student through this grueling work.

So why, oh why, did Hongjoong insist on having Seonghwa type up his emails when he could be at his dorm shoving a pencil through his eye?

"Spread," he commanded after Seonghwa's thighs encroached too far for his liking. His fingers started circling his clit again once he was satisfied by the amount of prying open Seonghwa did for him.

Seonghwa made his complaints known in a husky voice as Hongjoong sucked on the flesh of his throat, eyeing the white box on screen to confirm the boy was still responding to a student about his question on the lecture he missed yesterday.

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa whined some more. He stabbed the backspace button, typed, retyped the same line again. The bruises Hongjoong left on his neck would be more obvious this time. Seonghwa started wearing jeans and collared shirts to help hide them because the absolute terror on his face when a woman standing in line behind him pointed out the teeth-shaped marks on the back of his thighs mortified him to an early grave. "Can you please give me a second to finish this?"

Hongjoong rolled Seonghwa's nipple between his fingers, other hand rubbing over his soft, needy clit. He bounced his leg, slowly rocking Seonghwa up and down his lap, his rising chest pressing to Seonghwa's shuddering back.

Too late. Seonghwa pressed Enter.

"Now?" His tone turned insolent.

"Fine, hop off my cock, sweetheart." He slapped Seonghwa's thigh lightly.

He widened his legs, and Seonghwa quickly slid between them and stood slowly, missing the way Hongjoong filled him, but knowing he would not let him orgasm like this anyway.

Hongjoong shivered at the sensation of his cock leaving Seonghwa, cunt glistening in the light. A prelude to the evening, warmed and waiting. "We'll finish at my place," he says, grabbing his keys from the top drawer of his desk. "I'll make you dinner afterwards."

Seonghwa smoothed down his skirt and pulled on his opaque black tights, toeing on his shoes with a disapproving slant of his mouth. "You're only saying that so I'll answer the rest of your emails later."

He laughed at Seonghwa's demise.

Sauntering up to him, his smug grin taunted. The outline protruding from behind his trouser's zipper taunted even more. He cradled Seonghwa's aching hand, pulling the man towards him. He depressed his thumb in his palm to open it, curling his fingers to his throbbing cock, running them down its length as he moaned.

"Keep your hands and mouth busy and I won't make you."

"Fine." Seonghwa bent at the waist, forcing Hongjoong to drop his hand from grabbing his ass to run through his hair, tugging it when Seonghwa pressed hard kisses to his twitching cock, jolting him away and his hips back lest he finish prematurely after hours of teasing. "But you make the bed in the morning."

"Fine," he croaked, agreeing to anything Seonghwa said. Wrapped around his finger. And Seonghwa around his when he suggested he start staying the night. 

Satisfied by the deal, Seonghwa stood and threw his arms around his neck, demanding kiss after kiss. "Let's go before we have another incident like last time."

Seonghwa turned to the cracked monitor sitting beside the desk. Screen black and barren.

"Yeah, let's go." He walked, hand in hand with Hongjoong to the door, grinning, taking sneaky glances at each other. Whispering dirty things they were going to do tonight all the way to his car. All the way to his front door. Using his key to get in. Sharing a kiss in the doorway. Shutting it behind him. Turning the lock.

Falling into the other's arms. Completing the circle. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

Bending the rules of student and teacher relationships.