Archive of Our Own

The moment he entered his apartment, he slammed the door behind him harder than necessary. As he took his first step inside, he struggled to peel his jacket off. The leather felt less like a piece of clothing and more like a noose tightening around his neck, leaving him breathless. His nerves were frayed to the core, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this angry in his life.

After tossing his jacket toward the entryway rack, he marched toward the living room. In the large space integrated with the kitchen, he took a deep breath at the sound of a meow coming from near the counter. The cats. Don’t forget to feed them. He stood still for a second, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. He raised his hands to his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes beneath his glasses.

"Calm down." he muttered to himself, as if trying to soothe the throbbing nerves in his head.

After exhaling a heavy, rage-filled breath, he opened his eyes again. He turned toward the counter and saw the ball of fur stretched out in the middle of his kitchen island, watching him. When it meowed again, he began to walk slowly, glancing at the food bowls. Not a single kibble left, as usual. They had grown nearly as big as him by now. He figured he might as well start making them do the house cleaning soon.

As he reached Doongie, a slow smile bloomed on his face. He reached out and scratched the sweet thing under its chin. He felt the purring vibrate through his fingertips.

"Hungry, aren't you? You'd probably eat me and still not be full." With his other hand, he pushed up the glasses sliding down his nose and lifted his head. He looked around. "Where are the others? Or are you excluding them?" The cat stretched further across the counter, exposing its belly, and gave a happy meow in response. Minho laughed quietly.

He straightened up, walked to the cabinets, and grabbed fresh cat food from the first one. As he headed toward the bowls, Doongie hopped down to the floor. As he leaned down to open the package, he heard the sound of paws approaching from the bedroom. He didn't get up after filling the bowls. He watched the small creatures who had come to eat what was placed before them, either to fill their bellies or because they were simply never full. He reached out slowly and began to pet each of them equally.

Dori lifted his head and looked at him as if he could hear Minho’s thoughts. A drop of tuna-flavored wet food dripped from his mouth onto the floor. Minho knitted his brows, speaking as if scolding a child. "How many times do I have to tell you, Dori? Don't lift your head from the bowl while you're eating." He rose from his spot with a faint smile. He walked to the counter to grab a few napkins. "Today was exhausting enough as it is." He returned with the white tissue and leaned down. This time, Soonie turned toward him. He leaned in toward the cat watching him and rubbed their noses together. "What is it, hm? Did you wonder what happened?"

Even if there were a real person in front of him who cared, he wouldn't be able to explain it. Even if it were Chan, he couldn't. What was he supposed to say? How could he explain to anyone that a student in one of his lecture halls had made his blood boil? A man nearing forty had no business obsessing over young men who had barely reached adulthood, if they had at all. That’s what Chan would say. They are ignorant, his brain told him. You don't need to know unnecessary things, another voice in his head whispered.

Everything had been normal, really, just like every other lecture. Students trying to listen, those lost in thought, people who didn't even know why they were sitting there, and those who regretted choosing this course.

He had been standing in the wide space designated for him around his desk, reading from the book in his hand. He called out to gather their attention: "'I might have to add ten lines to your column.' Lusteu replied coldly." He lifted his eyes, scanning the long tables for a moment before looking back down. He continued from where he left off. "'In short, my friend, the secret of success in literature is not hard work, it is exploiting the labor of others. Newspaper owners are contractors, and we are the laborers. Therefore, the more ignoble a person is, the faster they reach their goal.'"

He stepped toward his desk, flipping to the next page. He cleared his throat before continuing. "'They can swallow live frogs, they can accept anything. They can flatter the base, vile ambitions of the literary sultans...'" He lifted his head, looking once more at everyone in the vast lecture hall. He caught the gaze of a few students staring at him. He slowly set the book down, the sound of the stack of pages hitting the desk seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

"What do these lines evoke for you?" He smiled slightly. At the question directed toward them, a few students sat up straighter, those looking at their devices lifted their heads. "I think these words are still quite fitting for the present time. Most things we dedicate our entire lives to don't turn out as we expect, and disappointment becomes inevitable. Especially in a society full of competition, trickery, and wealth, making one's talents noticed doesn't really work. People will do anything just to be noticed."

He folded his arms across his chest, scanning his students again. "If you have a comment you’d like to make or add, I’d love to hear it." He turned his wrist to check the watch strapped there. "We don't have much time left, so I won't keep you long. I just want to hear a few ideas." He lifted his head again.

He saw a few students, who had been listening since the start of class, looking at their screens, which he assumed were for notes. Then, one of them raised an arm and began. "Professor! You mentioned swallowing live frogs and accepting everything. I think this text matches the people on social media the most right now. Everyone does unthinkable things for the sake of fame."

The topic mentioned by the student pleased him, he leaned against his desk. He nodded. "You're right. I don't have much to do with social media myself. But if there’s something I can point to, it would be TV series and shows... Do any of you watch television?"

He paused as the entire hall fell into silence, blinking a few times. He looked for raised hands. He lowered his head and laughed at himself. "I suppose I'm too old..." He lifted his head again, continuing as if nothing had happened. "In the past, you had to be talented to get on television so that you could gain fame and fortune. But it's not like that anymore. Now, people use television to become famous. No talent, no logic. As for the news, it’s either a lie or empty. I understand you, I’m sure there are more interesting things in those fancy phones of yours than those boxes of entertainment."

"That’s not it at all, Professor!"

He lifted his eyes at a voice echoing from the very back of the hall. He saw one of the students, dressed expensively and conspicuously, standing up and while being nuded by his friend beside him by the shoulder. He narrowed his eyes a bit, trying to recall the name. He remembered they had met at the start of the year; he was one of Felix’s students. Felix had said he made him choose Minho’s class so he could gain some culture before putting him on the runway.

Looking at his appearance, it was quite clear he had absolutely nothing to do with literature.

After a small wave of snickering spread across the room, Minho looked at the boy properly. Raising his eyebrows, he said, "Is that so? And here I thought those phones you can't seem to put down were far superior." He smiled slowly.

Ignoring his friend who was trying to get him to sit back down, the boy continued. "Actually, they are quite good, but I don't see anything but clips and videos of stupid streamers." The boy grumbled jokingly. Minho was trying to remember his name while listening to him, so his response came a bit late.

"I see. So you're fed up with streamers?" he said, his eyes scanning.

"Yes!" the boy shouted from the back, laughing. His cheerful voice echoed throughout the room. "Are you fed up with streamers too, Professor?"

Minho stopped. He thought for a moment, looking at the students who had turned toward him, the people waiting curiously for his answer. Then he laughed softly. "I don't really care about streamers. Honestly, what they do is nothing but a waste of time." He began to pace. "I’d rather rot in my house than share my unaccomplished life with the world." Just as he pulled out his chair to sit down, the boy in the back started talking again, shouting.

"But Professor, there’s a streamer right here."

He lifted his head and looked at the noisy boy. The boy pointed with his finger at the friend who had been trying to get him to sit down for minutes. Compared to his earlier efforts, the friend had now forgotten to hold him back, he was simply staring at Minho with angry eyes. Even in the room, which grew darker toward the back of the hall, those eyes glowing with rage were noticeable. And surprisingly, they were very familiar.

He was a student from a group Minho had formed for a project last semester. He remembered choosing students whose grades were significantly better than the rest of the class. Had he overlooked this boy?

"Is that so?" he said, without losing his composure or taking back his words. He pulled his gaze away from the boy staring at him and finally sat down. The lecture hall had grown considerably quieter compared to a moment ago, as if it were an incident where Minho failed to realize the gravity. "I hope you can quit that job. It’s not something a sane mind can grasp."

"Your senile mind wouldn't understand it anyway."

As his fingers moved across his laptop keyboard, he knitted his brows, how many times was this boy going to get under his skin today? He opened the student portal and navigated to the project groups from the previous semester. His eyes scanned the paragraphs quickly until he found the project associated with his own name. When he found "Lee Minho" he clicked on it and opened the details of the final project. He scrolled through the names of the students.

Lee Minji, Yang Aerin, Han Hyeongjun, Bae Jinsol...

Han Jisung.

Minho knew that Hyeongjun had performed as a guitarist at one of those school festivals he had been forced to attend, and he remembered what he looked like. Therefore, the boy in the lecture hall had to be Jisung. He seemed to recall him vaguely now. Perhaps if he actually lifted his head and looked at the faces of the students he called into his office, things would be much easier from now on. This time, he clicked on his own profile, heading to one of his class lists. He quickly browsed the names.

Han Jisung.

As he saw the uploaded grades, assignments, and essays, he felt his eyebrows twitch. Was this "streamer brat’s" last exam score really a 3.69? He adjusted his glasses, trying to settle them more firmly on his nose. As the angle of the lens changed, the laptop screen seemed to shift. He scanned the writings listed under the name. When he spotted a specific title, he froze in place.

An essay titled "Volcano." He remembered reading it for days when the email first reached him. The assignment he had given was about the place of love in different literatures, and then he had asked his students to write about their own "love."

Did this kid seriously write this? It was nonsense, maybe there was more than one student with the same name. He really needed to start looking at his students' faces.

He tapped his finger against his mouse. He stared at the screen. Han Jisung. He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed so deeply it felt like they were tattooed onto his face. His fingers trembled over the keyboard, and he let out a sharp, angry exhale. He moved the mouse. He opened a new tab.

And he typed:

Han Jisung.

A link appeared on a video-sharing site leading to a channel, and beneath it were three links titled "videos." When he saw the familiar face in the thumbnail, his anger skyrocketed. Unable to stop himself, he quickly clicked on the channel.

On the screen that opened, the profile picture featured a squirrel-like plushie, brown, with big cheeks and a small dot near the corner of its mouth. And in the videos that appeared before him was the face of the boy who had stared at him with such angry eyes today. He tried to read the video titles. "TikTok Cringe That Made Me Bust." "The Most Annoying Couple On The Planet Earth." "The Most Chopped Predator On The Internet."

What the hell are these?

As he scrolled further down the page, he saw gaming videos. Reaction videos and gameplay. How could this boy be one of the top students in the department? How could this boy have caused Minho to add him to one of his projects and leave his mouth agape with his own "love"?

Without even realizing what he was doing, he clicked on the latest video at the top of the page, posted three days ago. After a quick intro came an edited scene, from the camera’s angle, one could see three walls, a door, a bookshelf in the background, a beanbag chair, and a room full of plushies. A boy walked into the frame to sit in the chair placed before the camera. As the music-heavy edit passed, the boy's face finally filled the frame.

Han Jisung.

"Hey everyone, welcome back to the OneSung channel, I'm Jisung." the boy began, speaking to the camera with a glowing smile. "If you're new here, hi, welcome." He then began to explain what the video would be about.

Minho blinked a few times. He couldn't wrap his head around how the kid in the video and the kid in the lecture hall were the same person. He didn't even remember hearing this boy’s voice, and he couldn't understand how a boy who spoke so childishly could earn such high marks on his exams. He pressed down so hard on the small machine under his fingers that he turned his gaze to his hand at the sound of a sharp click. What on earth am I doing right now?

Why did he even check who this boy was? It was none of Minho’s business. Maybe he’d call him to his office tomorrow for what he said today. No, it would be better to act as if it never happened, there was no need to deal with things like this.

Yet, his fingers clicked on another suggested video, ignoring his logic. After another quick intro, the boy appeared in the frame and began to speak. "Hey everyone, welcome back to the OneSung channel, I'm Jisung. If you're new here, hi."

He knitted his brows, the topics the boy discussed in his videos, his childish mannerisms, and his unnecessarily cheesy jokes were getting on his nerves. Especially the fact that Minho found himself agreeing with some of his points. Minho could be a rigid and stubborn person, but he was also honest. And to be honest, Jisung’s critiques were surprisingly logical and poignant compared to how he looked. His persona in the videos wasn't like how he was in the lecture hall today.

In the vast space of the hall, Minho’s eyes had caught a jacket on him, his hair was long, straight, and framed his face. But in his videos, he dressed more casually, baggy t-shirts, hair that was still straight but looked longer, and bangs that covered his forehead and ended right above his eyes instead of framing his face.

The occasional curses slipping from his mouth, his constantly expressive face, and his vocal yet non-noisy voice didn't resemble the boy he had seen (or rather, failed to see) until now.

He had lost count of how many videos he had watched by the time he approached the end of one, he was ready to admit defeat and leave the laptop alone. It was late, and he had an early class the next morning. Just as he was about to drop everything and head to bed, Jisung’s loud voice echoed through his apartment. "We’re live every Thursday at 11:00 PM! If you want to join, you can follow the link in my description. See ya, SKKKKKRRR!"

Today was Thursday. Dammit.

Once again, his fingers betrayed his logic and his class schedule, dragging the mouse toward places it shouldn't go. He hovered the cursor over the link staring back at him in blue amidst the white text of the description. He paused. You have a two-hour lecture tomorrow.

Will Jisung even show up to class?

Without a second thought, he clicked the link. The streaming channel before him was almost identical to the previous one. Except this time, there was a purple frame around the cute plushie profile picture, and right beneath it, a box that read "LIVE!" Okay, you saw it. Now close it.

But since you've come this far, what’s the harm in entering?

He joined the stream. The same room again, empty. Jisung would probably do something similar to his video intros. Minho’s eyes drifted to the chat box in the bottom right corner of Jisung’s room.

> Jutdwae: DUDE WE HAVE CLASS TOMORROW HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO STREAM AT THESE HOURS

> daesurinrin: i made a twitter account my @ is the same as this

> jisunggies: THE EMPEROR IS LIVE

> homotronmusclelover3000: flash us jisung

> yetimhanekundaklayıcısı: s'up guys any turks here

> imissher: play valo you bot

> daesurinrin: i don't know how to use twitter go follow me...

He had only read a bit of the chat when the door to the room on the screen suddenly swung open. Someone wearing a baggy white t-shirt and light blue pants entered, their head not yet in the frame. After closing the door behind them, they walked up to the camera. Without lowering their body or showing their face, they brought their hands forward and began to speak.

"Normally, I’m not this confident, but I look incredibly good right now. When you see my face, don't forget to check your pants."

He let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. He watched as the boy slowly pulled his chair back. "Are you guys ready?" Jisung asked once more. Then he gave a little giggle. "Shit, I'm actually embarrassed."

Then, he slowly sat down. Minho’s eyes widened. He slowly grabbed his laptop, lifted it, and... checked his pants.

The hell.

There was text written on his white t-shirt: "Who Cares?" Well, Minho cared. His hair was curly, making his face look incredibly soft and... cute. And goddammit, he was wearing glasses. Thick black frames encircling his eyes. Minho placed the laptop back on his lap, staring at the boy looking back from the screen. When Jisung laughed to himself, Minho’s eyes drifted back to the chat.

> yetimhanekundacısı: i’m the first person in my bloodline to witness this

> jisungsbiggestfan: I JUST GOT HERE WHAT IS THIS LOOK

> jinxivy: andddd it’s all over the screen

> YourMomsFav: smart boy now say my name

> i.2.n.8: what is this look are you a caveman

> 1lyjonee3: i have no words to describe this properly

> jutdwae: stop with the thirst trap and play the game
 

"Get out of my stream, Bin. Otherwise, Hyunjin’s screaming won't let you sleep anyway." Jisung leaned closer to the camera to respond to the chat. "I’m not a caveman, I’m more like a blessing descended from the heavens." He leaned back and raised his arms, showing himself off to the camera more clearly. Minho swallowed hard. "Okay, game time." the boy said, leaning back in to shrink his camera frame and bring the desktop onto the screen. "I know you want to see me, but there’s a horror mod that needs to be played, and I’m dead serious, it’s extra terrifying this time."

The only thing "terrifying" was how Minho wasn't feeling quite right. He tried to focus on the intro of the horror game Jisung brought up, and the things he was saying. But the only thing his eyes were following was the small camera box in the top left corner. When Jisung lifted his head to talk to the camera, Minho couldn't stop looking at his widened eyes and his lips, which looked so pink and soft that he couldn't even process the words coming out of them.

Great. Look at the way you’re looking at your own student.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He tried to pull his gaze away from Jisung and actually focus on the horror game. No, wait. Just close it and go to bed. Maybe this is a sign. The sleep deprivation is hitting you and you can't even look at a boy younger than you properly.

He had barely started moving his hand to close the window when he was locked onto the screen again by the face of another boy. This time, the boy from the lecture hall, the one who had shouted about Jisung being a streamer, joined the stream. "Now that Hyunjin has pulled his ass over here, we can start." So his name was Hyunjin. Fine, he wouldn't be embarrassed in front of Felix. Yes, distract yourself like this and close the stream willingly.

At the sound of Hyunjin’s laughter, his attention snapped back to the boy on the screen. The box showing Hyunjin's face appeared in the bottom left, underneath Jisung's. "Wait, hold on!" Hyunjin shouted. "I’m not going under you." he said, laughing.

"Eat my dick." Jisung replied. "Be grateful I didn't kill you after what you did today."

"What did I do?" the boy laughed again. "All I did was tell your precious professor that you're a streamer."

Hold on.

What?

"AND you ruined my entire college life, just a reminder." Jisung scowled from his little box. They had opened the horror game in the background, but neither seemed to be paying much attention to it over the conversation.

"I didn't do anything. Besides, now we know for sure what he thinks about you. For sure." Hyunjin said. For sure what he thinks? About Jisung? He thought he was losing his mind. Of course, neither boy could possibly know about that.

"Yeah, now he hates me." Jisung let out a sigh that Minho couldn't tell was out of anger or disappointment.

Hyunjin laughed again. "Now you can stop crushing on a guy who’s literally your dad's age. You should be thanking me."

Excuse me?

> jutdwae: you’re a pathetic human being what do you mean "crushing on a professor"

> daesurinrin: i got your back jisung

> RedViolet: just got here who are you crushing on

> livespurrday: is he at least handsome

> hamieburger: stop being gay and play the game

> rofiexYln: can't you even control your dick at school

> i.2.n.8: get help

"I’m not 'crushing' on anyone, and also, you guys are such bullies, I’m going to reconsider my friendship choices." Jisung said, leaning closer to the camera. Hyunjin must have been reading the chat too, because he burst into laughter after reading a few messages. "Thanks for making me miss my chance to suck dick Hwang Hyunjin."

Minho blinked.

What is this boy talking about?

"But I wouldn't have suck him anyway." Jisung said, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, he's handsome and all, but he’s way too old-fashioned." He finally started playing the game properly, giving it his full attention and reading the text that appeared, as if he hadn't just said the most shocking thing Minho had ever heard in his life.

"Is being 'old-fashioned' really the only problem..." Hyunjin called out. The character he was controlling was on Jisung's screen somewhere unidentifiable.

"I mean, if he were my boyfriend, I wouldn't have any other features to worry about."

If he were his boyfriend?

"So it doesn't matter that he's a stubbornly insistent man." Hyunjin said in a weary voice. When did they even see him being stubborn until now? They were just making things up.

"It doesn't matter if he's stubborn. I’d just bounce on him until his stubbornness wore off."

Minho jumped in his seat with a sudden cough.

Bounce on him?

> i.2.n.8: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING

> homotronmusclelover3000: if he’s muscular bounce on it

> jutdwae: i’m gonna beat your ass just you wait until tomorrow

> FormyLadies: dude you can't be serious

> Daerinisreal: did you really just say that???

> ilovegays: this is why i follow you

> 4ternity: #GAYKOREANBOY

> whatsyourETA: most poetic sentence i’ve heard all week

> yetimhanekundaklayıcısı: i didn't learn english for this
 

He blinked repeatedly, reading the messages falling into the chat one by one. He tried to act as if what he heard was just an effect of his sleep deprivation and that he was losing his mind. But it wasn't. Everything he just heard was real. He read the messages again and again as people slowly dropped the topic and went back to the game and Jisung.

His eyebrows twitched. Way too old-fashioned. If Minho were his boyfriend, that would be the only thing he’d worry about.

He laughed like a madman right then and there. Look at what the boy who ruined his entire day was doing. Worrying about his "old-fashioned" ways. Fine then, Han Jisung. So be it.

In that case, let’s make sure your only worry is the fact that Lee Minho won't be your boyfriend.

The next morning, there wasn't a trace of Jisung’s relaxed demeanor from the night before. Minho tried not to pay special attention, of course, but the boy was wearing a freshly ironed shirt, fabric trousers, and far too many accessories that complimented his outfit. Meanwhile, Minho looked like he had just crawled out of the earth. Watching a boy talk about him in such a perverted way on a livestream and then pull an all-nighter playing horror games hadn't done him any favors.

What surprised him most that morning was how normally Jisung and Hyunjin listened to his lecture, as if they hadn't said the most inappropriate things a human ear could hear about him just hours ago. Or rather, Hyunjin probably hadn't lifted his head from the desk at the back all through class due to sleep deprivation.

As for Jisung... it was as if nothing from the previous night had happened. As if he hadn't called Minho "senile" or mentioned "bouncing" on him.

During the rest of the stream, Minho had been startled by more jump-scares than he could count, and he’d spent just as much effort trying to keep his eyes off the young man. When the stream ended, he stared at his screen for a while. Then, with a long sigh, he slowly created an account for himself. He couldn't believe he was actually going to be waiting for every Thursday from now on. But there was no other time he could mess with Jisung.

Getting involved with a boy just because of what he’d been called seemed a bit ridiculous to him. But his life needed some risk, and he was on the verge of dying from boredom anyway. He had decided this yesterday.

When the class ended and the students were preparing to leave, filing out through the door, Minho moved quickly. After exchanging a few words with departing students, he came face-to-face with Jisung and Hyunjin, who were the last to leave since they sat at the very back. He directed his most charming smile at the boys. Hyunjin smirked knowingly and nudged Jisung with his elbow as if Minho wasn't standing right in front of them.

Minho turned to Jisung, who was looking at him with indifferent eyes. "Can we speak for a moment?" he said simply.

Jisung let out a deep breath, shoved Hyunjin, who was still elbowing him, out of the lecture hall, and stood by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He waited with knitted brows, as if expecting Minho to speak. But before Minho could even open his mouth, Jisung spoke first.

"If this is about what I said yesterday, I’m sorry. It won't happen again."

Which thing you said yesterday? The "senile" part, or the promise to bounce on me?

Minho smirked again, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning slowly against the door. He might be thirty-nine, he might not be married or have a lover, but he was self-aware. He had eyes and a mirror. He knew he was far too attractive for a man considered "old." If you asked why he didn't have a partner, it was simply because he never thought he’d need one.

"No, Jisung. Actually, I wanted to talk about 'Volcano.'" he said.

He watched the boy’s eyebrows shoot up, his eyes widening and sparkling. "'Volcano'?"

Minho nodded. "Yes. It caught my eye while I was looking through my files yesterday. I saved it because I liked it a lot." Actually, I was looking for something to lure you into my trap after the stream last night, and I decided on that. "Your words are sincere and natural, I liked your choice of vocabulary. You can make a person feel the emotion down to their very marrow." He narrowed his eyes, watching the boy whose face filled with curiosity at every word. "I was going to ask if you could write something like that again, I mean, together."

"Together?"

He nodded. "Yes, together."

Jisung pointed a finger between the two of them, indicating the small space between their bodies. "You mean... you and... me?"

Minho smirked again. "Since I’m talking to you, yes, you and I, Jisung."

The boy in front of him blinked several times. Then he lowered his hand and studied the floor for a few seconds. He narrowed his eyes and looked back at Minho. "No." he said shortly.

Minho’s eyes widened. "What?"

"I can't write it. Especially not with you."

This time, it was Minho who blinked. "Why?"

"Unless it’s an official project, I don't have time to spare." Jisung said, as if he hadn't just blown all of Minho’s plans out of the water. "I can't deal with this on top of everything else I have to handle."

Unfortunately for Jisung, Minho didn't like being rejected. "What do you have to handle?"

Jisung raised an eyebrow. "How is that any of your business?"

"If I need to make this an official project for you to join me, I’ll do it."

"What?" Jisung said, his shock reflected in his voice as his brows shot toward his hairline. Minho smirked again. "You can't be serious." Jisung threw his head back, exposing his throat. The shape of his Adam's apple caught Minho’s eye, it looked like a heart.

"I’ll enter the project details into the system tonight." Minho said, keeping his cool.

Jisung lowered his head and looked at Minho with angry eyes. "You’re making fun of me, aren't you?" Minho just shrugged. "Stubborn bastard." Jisung muttered under his breath.

Minho leaned forward, as if trying to hear better. "Pardon?" You said you were going to bounce on me. When Jisung turned his face away, Minho chuckled softly and stepped back.

"Fine." Jisung said, and just walked away. He left Minho alone at the door of the vast, empty lecture hall. Minho was used to being alone, anyway, all he was doing now was finding a solution to that situation. A solution he could have some fun with.

He stepped into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his neck. He woke his laptop from sleep mode, already placed on the bed and opened the browser. Clicking the link he had added to his shortcuts, he began busy himself with the towel again. Keeping his eyes fixed on the countdown on the screen, he tried to dry his wet hair as much as possible.

He had sorted everything out yesterday so there wouldn't be any issues today. He chose a username that would give him away just a little bit, intentionally: profstrange. He wanted the boy to lift his head and have his eyes widen when the donation popped up on his screen. He deliberately chose something close to a popular character name so it would look just ordinary enough.

Nothing was going to ruin his plans.

Since last week, his life had been continuing as usual, except for a few behaviors added to his nightly routine: Wake up, attend lectures, return home, feed the cats, open Jisung’s videos, handle his remaining work while watching, and sleep. Minho was a simple man, really. He liked dealing with know-it-alls and had a soft spot for cute boys, it was as simple as that.

As the screen glowed with the familiar sight of the room, he stared at an empty chair, just like last time (his second time attending, to be exact). While waiting for the young man to enter the frame, his eyes drifted to the chat on the right. As he read the messages, there was no one talking about last week or himself. But that didn't mean it would stay that way.

With a shake of the desk and camera followed by a loud "AH!", he lifted his eyes from the box where small text was flying by. After the camera stopped shaking and refocused on the room, he saw the chair spin and a head emerge from under the desk, unruly curly hair that clearly hadn't been styled since his last lecture. A hand reached into the soft strands to scratch his head as Jisung sat up properly and settled into his chair.

"I think I split my head open." the young man said, squeezing his face in pain and scratching his head more vigorously. "Look at what I do to entertain you guys, I'm a twenty-four-year-old grown-ass man." Jisung slowly leaned toward the screen, likely beginning to read the chat.

At that moment, Minho’s eyes also drifted to the chat, searching for a few familiar words: Professor, bouncing, last week. There was nothing, the task was up to him.
As Jisung tried to launch a story-driven thriller game he had been dying to play (Minho didn't know because he was paying attention to the game, he just happened to catch it while Jisung was mentioning it), Minho moved his cursor to the donation boxes below the video. Luckily, he had already topped up his account, dealing with that now would have been annoying. After selecting the amount, he stared at the message screen that appeared.

He paused and thought. Then, he smirked slowly, as if Jisung were right in front of him. Pulling his hand away from the towel, he pressed the keys of the keyboard with his damp fingertips. What he wrote was harmless, yet something that would trigger a memory.

> profstrange donated $150: Here, maybe you can treat that professor you love so much to a meal.

At the sound of the donation alert, the boy inside the machine turned his head. He leaned slightly toward a spot invisible from where the camera was placed, and as the voice-to-text read the message appearing on the stream, Minho reminded himself of what he was doing. He watched the boy’s sparkling eyes and fluttering lashes, trying to guess what he would say. "Dude, isn't that a bit much for just a meal?"

Minho’s eyes drifted back to the chat, which had accelerated at Jisung’s words. God... trying to read that tiny text without glasses was painful.

> Daerinisreal: diva he just paid your first date budget

> i.2.n.8: forget the professor buy us a meal

> daesurinrin: don't forget to follow my twitter

> hynjinnnn: YOU CAN'T TALK ABOUT THE PROFESSOR IN A STREAM I'M NOT IN!!!!!

> meowfordaddy: no jisung you're gonna be my pillow princess leave the professor alone

> imissher: would you play valo if the professor asked

> 1lyjonee3: has there been any progress in your hopeless love life at least?

"Just because you wrote that in my chat, I'm only going to talk about the professor, Hyun." The boy gave a sly smile. Hyunjin was now Minho's favorite student, thanks, kid! "Believe me, there’s nothing I wouldn't do if my professor asked." He raised his eyebrows, brought his hand close to the camera, gave a thumbs up with a laugh, and returned to the chat. "Unfortunately, there’s no progress, but wouldn't it be nice if there were?" He turned to the camera and smiled.

There’s nothing I wouldn't do if my professor asked.

"Spoiled brat." Minho muttered to himself. "And yet, you wouldn't join the project."

"I won't be anyone’s 'pillow princess' with a name like that, ADMINS BAN THEM!" Jisung shouted, pointing his finger at the camera. 
Minho scanned the chat messages once more. His brows twitched, knitting together when he found a message from someone with a disgusting username. Leave the professor and choose them? Someone else instead of Minho?

Gritting his teeth and unable to stop himself, he went to the donation section again. He selected a specific amount and typed a message with rapid fingers:

"Who even are you that he would choose you over me?"

He was just about to click send when he paused for a moment. Slowly, he clicked the 'X' on the small box on the screen and took a deep breath. It’s too early to expose yourself. Get a grip.

Not much else happened during the rest of the stream, if you don’t count Jisung’s unspeakable comments about him, of course.

"You guys need to see his legs. I’d bet my entire life that he only does leg days."

"He always looks so calm, but he’s even more attractive when he’s angry, it makes you want to piss him off on purpose."

"I don’t have many innocent thoughts in my head, let’s just keep my fantasies between me and my dear professor."

When the doorbell rang in the middle of the game and Jisung got up to check the door, the sight of the rest of his body was not good for Minho at all. He didn't know where in his memory he had engraved that perfectly shaped, full ass, but he would never forget the skin peeking out from his shorts. When the boy returned, he continued the game from where he left off, as if he hadn't left Minho unprepared and hardened behind the screen. If your family saw you in this state, their disappointment would be beyond words.

After a sleepless night and a 'relief' session he didn’t even want to talk about, he began preparing for work again. At the very least, he could start taking his revenge sweetly by driving Jisung crazy under the guise of the project. Though, the boy seemed to be affecting Minho more. In a bad way. Definitely in a bad way.

"You need to increase the symbolism, you’re writing as if you’re explaining it to a child." he said, adjusting his glasses. He glanced again at the paper crumpling between his fingers. Struggling with streams, projects, and lectures over the past few weeks was starting to take its toll. His patience was wearing thin, mostly with himself. He hated that he disliked everything Jisung put in front of him, yet the mere sight of the boy sitting there could make his hands drift toward his own pants.

"Too bad, I like it this way." Jisung snatched the paper from his hand, looking at his own writing with furrowed brows. Minho couldn't remember giving a single positive comment since they started working together, nor could he recall Jisung giving a positive reaction, yet, in the end, the boy always tried to bring back something exactly how Minho wanted it. Even if Minho couldn't bring himself to like those either. However, seeing the expression on the young man’s face, painted not just with anger but with a hint of sadness, Minho closed his eyes.

He took off his glasses and placed them on the desk, took a deep breath through his nose, and opened his eyes again to look at Jisung, who was stuffing his papers and belongings into his bag. Two weeks ago, he had decided to move their project workdays to Jisung's streaming days, his hunch had been right, as the boy often talked about him, even if only to mention how tired he was. Throughout this time, Minho continued his donations, the money Jisung earned from Minho alone was probably enough to buy a new set by now.

The boy in front of him slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers moving rapidly as he stood there. Seeing Jisung occupied with his own business, Minho began to pack up as well. During all the time they spent together, he paid as much attention to the boy as possible. He knew his small habits now, even down to how many moles were on any visible patch of skin. All for the sake of the revenge plan, of course.

The screen of the phone on the desk lit up with a loud vibration and notification, causing him to turn his face from the bag where he was tucking files toward the device. His eyes widened as they locked onto the single notification on the screen.

> Community Announcement from OneSungg Channel: STREAM MIGHT START LATE TODAY!!!!
 
His eyes shifted to the boy standing before him, feeling another pair of eyes on himself. Jisung’s gaze was also fixed on his phone, just like Minho's. Without breaking his composure or panicking, Minho slowly turned off the screen and pocketed his phone. He stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and reached for his jacket hanging on the chair. Since they started working in his office, Jisung would usually put on his headphones the second he was done and leave the small room without a word, his head buried in his phone.

It seemed today would be the same, until, "Jisung."

The boy pulled one side of the headphones from his ear and turned his head, his other hand already hovering near the office door. He looked at Minho with one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for him to continue. Minho walked around the desk and approached the young man with a slow smile spreading across his face. He tried not to overthink how Jisung’s head tilted back and his eyes widened as he got closer.

"I kept you too late today, I can give you a ride if you’d like." Also, if the stream starts late because of me, our already terrible sleep schedules will be ruined even further. Not that he cared about Jisung, it was just to develop his revenge plan. Though, he couldn't even remember what the boy had originally said to him.

"Home?"

Minho chuckled softly. "If you have other places to be, I can drop you off there too." he said, reaching out to fully open the door. He could have sworn he felt the physical tension in the young man due to the proximity of their bodies.

"If you have things you need to get to, I can just go home."

He raised his brows. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, I’m going home." Jisung said, and once again, he started walking without waiting for Minho. Minho watched the boy’s back from the doorway for a moment, then laughed to himself. Look at the things I’m dealing with.

The walk to the car was surprisingly peaceful, as was the silence that enveloped them once they got inside and Minho started the engine to hit the main road. The only thing reaching his ears was the faint music from the radio and the muffled sounds leaking from Jisung’s headphones. From the moment they got into the car, Jisung stared out the window, not saying a word. Minho stole glances whenever he found the chance, but each time he was met with nothing but the young man’s hair.

Silence had always been something he enjoyed, but lately, he found he enjoyed Jisung’s voice more. Not in a serious way, of course, just because he was used to it from the streams and videos.

"Jisung." he called out.

The boy turned toward him. Minho looked back briefly, as quickly as the road permitted, that split-second connection of their eyes was enough to heat his entire body. Realizing Minho had something to say, Jisung lowered his headphones to his neck.

"Tell me." Minho said. "What are these 'important things' you have to handle that you can't find time for my project?"

Jisung gave a light laugh beside him. "I didn't know you were this interested in me."

Minho gripped the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and replied with a smirk. "Can't I be curious about someone I spend every week with?" He checked the rearview mirror and signaled. "How do I know you won't kill me in my office one day?"

Jisung crossed his arms, sprawling out a bit more in his seat and spreading his legs. "If I were going to kill you, I would have done it in the lecture hall the moment you mentioned the project."

Minho kept his eyes on the road. "In front of all those people? Should I be scared?"

"I thought you’d realized by now that I’m not afraid of doing things in front of people." Minho felt his smirk evaporate. "I don’t think I’d hesitate to kill someone."

Minho brought the car to a halt with a sudden brake, unsure if it was because of the red light or the sudden tension sinking into him. He didn't turn his face toward the boy beside him. After a soft laugh, Jisung put his headphones back on. "No need to be that scared, I have no intention of becoming a killer."

You’ve already killed me, though.

The familiar silence that settled over the car until they reached the front of Jisung’s house was eating Minho alive. And when they arrived at the address entered into the maps, and the time came to say goodbye and head home, things got even worse. Minho tried his best not to look at Jisung’s ass as he climbed out of the car, but Minho was a simple man. He liked cute boys with cute butts, he was just that simple of a man.

Before closing the door, the boy leaned in one last time and smiled at Minho, who was watching him from inside.

"Thanks, Professor. I'll treat you to a meal one day, I promise." He winked, slammed the car door shut, and walked away with a sway in his step, never once looking back.

The little devil. Why did Minho ever get himself into this?

Even feeding the cats when he got home that night was a final effort to drain the rage waiting to overflow from within him. He slammed his bedroom door shut and marched toward his bed with fast, furious steps.

This was impossible. What did that brat mean by that?

Did he know about Minho?

Impossible. How could he have figured it out? Was he being too obvious? He didn't think so. Did Jisung see the notification today? He couldn't have read the text from that distance. Did he see something else Minho didn't realize that gave him away? Was the notification sound of the app different? No. All of Minho’s other notifications had the same sound.

Take a deep breath.

You aren't the one who should be panicking, Jisung is the one who’s been exposed. You don’t need to be pacing your house in a state of nerves and tension. You shouldn't be feeling any emotion other than victory.

Then why, hours later, could he still feel that same tension down to his very marrow?

It was nine-thirty in the morning, and inside the lecture hall, Minho couldn't even comprehend the words coming out of his own mouth. This time, the brat had seen fit to sit right in the middle of the vast room instead of his usual spot. Minho couldn't focus because of the eyes of that mischievous kid, who didn't even try to hide where he was looking, as if he were more interested in what might pop out of Minho's pants than the words coming out of his mouth.

It felt as though the wooden planks of the stage were bending under his shoes, preparing to swallow him whole. He left the last book in his hand on the desk, turned his back to the students, and leaned both hands on the table. He took a deep breath, praying that the time he gave the students to think would benefit him even more. He had just gained control of his lungs and turned around when his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure exiting the lecture hall door at the very last second. It didn't even take seconds for him to realize who was missing when he turned back to the desks.

Han Jisung.

He dropped into his chair. His eyes were fixed on the empty gap in the middle of the massive room, among the sea of desks. He tried to look at other faces, acting as if his mind wasn't searching for only one person. Five minutes passed, then ten. He jumped in his seat when a notification vibrated in his pocket. He pulled the device out for that, and for nothing else.

> OneSungg Started a Private Stream: Knowing That Person is Watching You Isn't as Comfortable as You Think, Is It?

His eyes widened. He slowly unlocked the screen after clicking the notification. As the main screen transitioned into the streaming app, he quickly reached into his pocket, grabbed one of his earphones, making sure they were still connected to his phone and put it in his ear. He tried to keep his expression neutral while reading the information box that appeared.

> This Stream has been started by the Account Owner exclusively for the user 'profstrange'.

What?

The moment he clicked the "OK" button in the bottom right of the box, a cock flashed before his eyes and a moan exploded in his earphones, causing him to freeze where he sat.

He watched the boy whose body trembled on the phone screen, his hand moving along his length, as the moaning continued in his ears. Minho felt his eyebrows twitch, his fingers gripping the phone tighter. 

How could he be doing this, the moaning of that whining boy sounding like music in his ears while he was at the university, in the lecture hall, in the middle of a damn lecture? 

Wait a second... was this boy in the department restroom right now?

"Professor!"

He lifted his head from the screen with a start, turning his gaze back to where it belonged: his students.

"Are you going to continue the lecture?"

Before answering, he looked down at his phone. When he saw the message "Stream has Ended" he took a deep breath. Then, he turned back to the class with his best smile.

"You’re in luck. Today’s lecture is over."

For the first time, he threw himself out of the lecture hall without waiting for the students to leave. He started walking like a madman, his steps as hurried and fast as possible. He had just turned the last corner that would lead him to the boy he was trying to reach when he saw Jisung, walking as casually as if he hadn't just done something mind-blowing in the university restroom moments ago. His wavy hair and cute ass bounced with every step, though Minho had already noticed these things over the past month.

Like I said, Minho is a simple man.

He approached the boy from behind, silent but swift. Fortunately, they were in the main hall, with a single move, he grabbed his arm and began dragging him toward the exit. "What the hell!" Minho adjusted his glasses, which had slipped in his haste. "Professor Lee?" The sun hit his eyes as he took the first step outside. "Let go of my arm." He kept going without stopping, though he couldn't quite remember where he’d parked the car. "Hey!" Was it near the North Department? "Who am I talking to?"

He dealt with a brat trying to slip out from under his hand until they reached the car. He pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked it. Opening the door with his left hand, he pulled the boy toward him with his right. "What are you doing?" He shoved him into the passenger seat and locked the doors the second he shut them. Inside the car, the boy banged on the window and tried to open the door, by the time Minho got into the driver’s seat, Jisung had finally given up on the locks.

"What do you think you're doing?" The boy wasn't leaning back, he sat on the edge of his seat as if ready to pounce at any second, looking at Minho like he’d gone mad. He probably had. "You can't just drag me to your car without saying a word." Minho leaned over and fastened his seatbelt. "Just because you gave me a ride home once doesn't mean I’m getting into your car every day." He turned the key, and the car’s seatbelt alarm began to chime.

After shifting into reverse, he fixed his eyes on the rearview mirror. "Jisung, put on your seatbelt." He turned the wheel, the chiming was starting to grate on his nerves.

"You don't get to give orders after stuffing me into your car by force." Without saying a word, Minho kept driving, patiently waiting for the boy, whose anatomy he had seen about fifteen minutes ago to put on his seatbelt. As he tried to get as far from the university as possible, he reached a point where he couldn't handle the beeping sound and the nagging boy beside him. "Let me go or I’m calling the police, old man."

Without even signaling, he changed lanes and pulled over to the right. Without even waiting for the car to come to a full stop, he shoved the body of the boy, who still couldn't sit still, back into the seat. He leaned into the boy's face, trying not to be overwhelmed by the large eyes staring back at him. "And what happens if I call the police?" he said in a low voice. He gripped the steering wheel to keep his hands from reaching for the front of the boy's t-shirt. "What if I tell them what you were doing in the university restroom?"

"You-"

"I don't even need to go to the police. Do you know what happens if I go to the dean? Have you lost your mind, or do you just want to get expelled?" Jisung froze, blinking a few times. "Shut up and do as I say before you annoy me even more." The shoulders of the boy in his guest seat relaxed, and his legs spread as he eased up, just like yesterday. Why the hell is he relaxing?

Jisung suddenly smiled- no, he giggled. He reached back slowly, grabbing the seatbelt without taking his eyes off Minho’s, and as he leaned in to click it into the buckle, Minho could feel the young man’s breath on his lips. "I knew it." he said, pulling his hand back from between their bodies and touching Minho’s chest. "I knew you were watching my streams."

Minho’s eyes widened.

"If you had just said you wanted to get me into bed from the start, we wouldn't have had to deal with all this."

He frowned. "I didn't-"

"Are you sure?" His hand drifted from Minho’s chest to the space between his legs.

Holy shit.

"Are you going to start driving, or should we move to the back seat?" Jisung’s eyes dropped to Minho’s lips.

"Speak with respect." he said, still holding the hand resting on his obvious erection, unable to make sense of the fact that he was the one now locked onto the other's lips.

"Is that coming from a man who’s getting turned on by his own student?"

He pushed the boy back by his chest, brushed every part of him off, restarted the car, and focused only on the road for the rest of the way. The boy beside him continued to mock him, laugh, and move around. He asked him things, but Minho couldn't focus much while trying to keep his breathing under control. Jisung seemed to enjoy his wrecked state, throwing devilish giggles and smiles every time he turned to Minho.

When they arrived in front of Minho’s apartment, stopping the car and throwing himself out happened in the same breath. But the boy, who had fought tooth and nail not to get in, now seemed to like where he was and wouldn't get out of the car. Minho opened the door and literally plucked him from his seat. He grabbed the boy again, but this time, not by the arm. By the hand.

They entered the elevator with fingers interlaced. In that state, Jisung began to mock him even more. His ears were ringing, and his heart felt like it would stop if it beat any faster. There was a... sensation in his body he couldn't stop. Inside the small box of the elevator, Jisung kept the atmosphere busy by bumping his shoulders against Minho’s and swinging their joined hands between them. It didn't help, by the time they got from the elevator to the apartment door, Minho even struggled to get the key into the lock.
As soon as they stepped inside, he turned around and slammed the door shut. "Did you like me this much, profess-" 

To say he pounced on the boy would be the exact definition of what happened.

He took the boy’s soft cheeks between his hands, closing his eyes as arms wrapped around the back of his neck and the softest thing touched his lips. He moved forward, and forward again, pinning the boy who held him as if he’d never let go, against the wall. He slipped his tongue between lips that parted for breath. There was nothing calm about their kiss. Just two mouths trying to swallow each other, two people trying to overpower one another. Too much tongue, too much saliva.

Minho didn't care.

He moved his hands from Jisung’s face, sliding one under his arms. He leaned down, hooked the other under his leg, and began carrying the boy toward the bedroom in a princess carry. "I can walk." Jisung tried to straighten himself up in his arms, as if trying to get down, without letting go of his neck. Minho held his body tighter, making him let out a breath. "Fine, old man, have it your way."

After kicking the bedroom door shut, he dropped the boy onto his massive king-sized bed. "Dusty pink?" Finding himself on the bed, Jisung didn't even bother to get up, he turned and began examining the duvet. "Are your color choices a joke?"

Minho took off his glasses and tossed them toward Jisung, wasting no time reaching for the buttons of his shirt. While unbuttoning with one hand, he loosened the belt at his waist with the other. "You look pretty on pink." he said without reaction.

"So, am I pretty?" His voice sounded confident, but his flushed cheeks and the trembling of the hand he raised to hide his face told Minho everything he needed to know.

Deciding he finally deserved something, he gave the boy on his bed his most bastardly smirk. "I thought you already knew that."

"Excuse me, I don't have my glasses today." He shifted his gaze to the ceiling. "I hope it worked out for you during those times you handled your own business."

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and leaned over Jisung. His arms were on either side of his head, and one knee was placed between his legs. "So you're wearing them for me?" Jisung’s gaze fell first to his eyes, then to his body, now freed from clothes. The boy’s raised eyebrows boosted his confidence. "I guess you like what you're seeing." he said, catching the hand Jisung was using to try and hide his face.

"I knew you didn't have abs, honestly, I imagined your belly to be a bit bigger, but I guess I did you injustice." Freeing his hand from Minho’s grip, he reached back around the older man’s neck. "I’m sure other parts of you are big."

Minho grabbed the hem of Jisung’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "Have some respect for your teacher."

"You're acting too ethical for a teacher who's about to fuck his student."

When he saw the boy’s bare body, he didn't know where to attack first. His defined abs? His well-built chest? His thin waist? His broad shoulders? Or his nipples waiting to be tasted? This time, it was Minho who laughed deviously. "Fuck you?" He locked eyes with Jisung. "Sweetheart, you're going to be the one doing the work. Didn't you say you'd bounce on me?" In one move, he stripped off the boy’s trousers and boxers.

Jisung clearly hadn't expected him to remove both at once, with the sudden loss, he tried to bring his legs together, to hide himself. Minho didn't let him. "Right." Jisung was trying to look confident. "You couldn't seem to forget it, I guess you like it when someone else does the work." Minho raised an eyebrow, about to give an annoying answer, when, "Or maybe you just don't have the energy because you're old."

Minho stopped, letting out a deep breath through his nose.

He sat up, grabbed the boy's legs that were trying to touch each other, and spread them wide. Without even deciding where to look, thinking I've already seen the other part, he brought his fingers to Jisung’s entrance. Though the wetness he felt pleased him a little, the irritation had already seeped into his brain. "You should be ashamed for getting under an old man, then." Prepping yourself too.

Jisung, his breathing quickened and his chest heaving with every breath, looked at Minho through fluttering lashes. How does the time spent being angry at this kid get shorter every single time?

"Don't worry, Professor." he said with a smile that didn't look very convincing. "I'll start whenever you get tired."

That multiplied the duration of his anger by five.

Without waiting much on the outside, he skipped to the entrance and slid two fingers in. Jisung’s half-hard cock trembled as he arched his back and threw his head back. His cock was cuter than it looked on the phone screen, just like himself. In person, Jisung looked even sweeter than he did on stream. Though his normal self was beautiful, the only word he could use to describe his current state would be 'dreamlike.'

"Ah, Profess- nghh." As he sped up his fingers, Jisung began to writhe under his hand. With his free hand, he pinned his waist to the bed and leaned down, letting his lips touch the boy’s muscular chest. When his lips and more importantly, his tongue reached Jisung’s nipples, hands tangled in his hair tried to pull his head back.

Jisung was trying to pull his chest away as if he had anywhere to run, attempting to block Minho with his hands. Though, increasing the speed of his fingers and changing the angle slightly was enough to drain all his strength. "Professor... Don't- slow, no- ah." he whined.

He moved his lips to the shoulders before him this time. "Sensitive boy." He added another finger to the other two and began hitting Jisung’s muscle ring more forcefully. He smiled when Jisung’s waist arched to the point of breaking,  he opened his mouth and sinking his teeth into the boy’s honey-colored shoulders.

"Hey- ah... Don't- don't leave a mark, hhngh."

He only sped up his fingers more.

As Jisung’s hole loosened and his moans grew longer, Minho continued to cover his shoulder with his own marks. If the boy hadn't reached for Minho’s trousers and said he wanted to see, he could have spent his whole night doing just that. When the trousers and boxers hit the floor, Jisung’s eyes didn't move past his waist. He grabbed lube and a condom from the nightstand and returned to where he belonged, between Jisung’s legs when the boy opened his mouth again.

"I guessed it was big, but no way. Do you go to malls? They should turn you away at the door for carrying a weapon."

"You talk too much." he said simply, rolling the condom onto himself. "It’s not a good thing to try and guess your professor’s size."

"I'm lying naked in your bed, you just fingered me, and now you're going to fuck me. Nothing is 'good' right now."

He rolled his eyes, holding back the smile trying to spread across his lips. "So you don't like where you are?" He took the lube into his hand this time.

"Not being 'good' doesn't mean I don't like it. Or that it’s a 'bad' thing." He wrapped his legs around Minho’s waist and his arms around his neck. "The only bad thing right now is that you're lying to yourself."

He had aligned himself with Jisung’s entrance when he lifted his head. "Lying to myself?"

Jisung nodded. "You like it too, but you think you're angry at me and suppress your feelings." He wasn't aware that his own body was trembling. Or he was aware and didn't care. "I know your ears turn red when you're embarrassed, and they might be the reddest things I’ve ever seen right now."

He blinked.

"You're talking nonsense."

The boy shrugged.

"I know you like me."

He laughed softly. What was this boy talking about? 

He pushed in slowly. And once again, Jisung’s lips were on his own. The contrast between the tightness around his length and the softness he felt on his lips made his head spin for a moment. Until he was buried completely inside Jisung, they both left their desperate sounds in each other's mouths while kissing. When they stopped kissing, Minho couldn't move away from Jisung. He tried to get used to the sensation, face-to-face as their breaths mingled.

Does it feel amazing because he hasn't been with someone in a long time, or because it's Jisung?

"Prof-" Jisung pulled back from his neck and pressed their chests together. Their breathing synced as their skin touched. "Minho."

"Oh, fuck..."

Jisung laughed, a bit too loudly and sincerely for their situation. Minho turned his head to look at the boy’s sweet face. He was smiling widely with his eyes closed. "I should have guessed you'd like me saying your name." When he opened his eyes again, Minho could have counted the stars inside them.

He laughed softly and moved his face between Jisung’s neck and shoulder, with a long whine from Jisung, he pulled back just enough to slowly pull himself out, then thrust back in all at once. "Minho!" The hands around his neck- or rather, the nails clutched tightly at his hair. If he weren't busy breathing in Jisung’s scent, or if it hurt enough to overshadow the pleasure he felt, maybe he would have reacted. He felt too good right now. Maybe he felt this good despite it being something so simple. But then, Minho is a simple man.

"Ah, Minho! Go- God, ngh." He pushed harder onto his knees. He tilted the angle at which he thrust into Jisung a bit more, and with the next few thrusts, Jisung was screaming.

"Oh, oh, wait! Minho, Minnngh, Minho!" He straightened up slowly, looking at the tears streaming from Jisung’s eyes. If there was one thing he wasn't doing, it was waiting. His gaze dropped, and dropped again, falling to Jisung’s flushed cock bouncing between their bodies with every thrust. He moved his hands over the boy's body and placed them on his waist, squeezing hard enough to sink his nails in, as he began to push and pull Jisung’s body while thrusting inside. "Ah! Yes- yes, Minho! Hnng- Minho, ah... ngh."

As his eyes dropped a bit further, locking onto where they were joined, he struggled to keep himself from coming at the sight. "God." 

What pushed him to his limit was seeing Jisung’s flushed cock finish without any touch, painting his chest white. With a pathetically loud moan, he emptied everything into the condom inside Jisung.

He was breathless, with sweat dripping even from his chin. The most exhausting part of the day was cleaning up, because it took half an hour for Jisung to get out of bed, he fell asleep while Minho was cleaning him, and Minho had to carry him back to bed. Carrying him like a princess in his arms... he enjoys that, too.

"God, I feel like my back is broken."

Jisung whined from where he was leaning over to fill the cats' food bowls. Minho turned away from the stove where he was preparing dinner to look at the young man, who was wearing nothing but one of Minho’s t-shirts. Despite his complaints, he wasn’t moving from his spot, busy showering Soonie, Doongie, and Dori with affection. Minho smiled softly, then turned back to his work. "I was the one who carried you after everything, yet your back is the one that's broken?" He began placing the seasoned chicken into the pan.

He felt two arms wrap around his waist and froze once again as a pair of big eyes peeked out from beside his shoulder. "But it's because you fucked me way too well, Minho."

He shook his head and turned back to the stove. "You're out of your mind."

No matter how confidently Jisung spoke, his feelings always gave him away when he laughed. He could no longer hide from Minho how embarrassed he actually was by the things he said. As the boy moved from behind him to his side, Minho turned to look at him for a few seconds. That t-shirt didn't look nearly as good on himself as it did on the boy. "Did you really have to wear the one I was wearing out of all those shirts?"

Jisung nodded, his eyes never leaving the chicken Minho was cooking. "Yes." he said with a smile, then pointed to Minho’s pajama pants. "You have the bottoms, I have the top, we’re a matching couple."

Minho laughed again. How was he ever going to deal with this kid?

He was looking forward to it.

They watched something together while having dinner, only Soonie stayed near Minho, while Doongie and Dori were busy playing with Jisung. They decided to continue watching while cuddling on the sofa, and as Minho lay with his head in Jisung’s lap while the boy played with his hair, a question came out of nowhere.

"When are you going to ask me out? I need to know so I can buy an outfit accordingly."

After letting out the most sincere laugh he’d ever had in his life, Minho turned his head toward Jisung. "Maybe I won't." he said jokingly.

Jisung smirked. "Then I’ll just keep humiliating you until you do. That’s how I managed to get us here, after all."

Minho really is a simple man.