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“I haven’t seen anything like this. Like, ever. In my life.”
Su-bong is a highly confident person to the point it reads as extreme vanity and narcissism, but right now he thinks he’s the dumbest person in the world. He knew it wasn't the greatest idea to major in something weird—anthropology—and with super hard and weird classes. Like, seriously, he doesn’t understand why cave drawings are so significant or why he has to learn about teeth blackening, but he does, and he doesn’t pay attention, and obviously, it shows.
The teacher’s assistant—who he’s recently learned is named Nam-gyu—stares up at him with eyes filled with—something bad, and it makes Su-bong cringe. The weight of his gaze is heavy as one of his dainty hands clutch his test, crinkling the corner it’s holding onto. Even though the overhead fluorescent lighting casts lines of light across the lenses of his glasses, Su-bong can still see that he’s extremely unimpressed.
“I forgot to study,” Su-bong tries to defend, deep voice hoarse due to the sheer embarrassment of getting a zero-point-one on a test where you get points automatically just for writing your name. “Cut me some slack, man, this shit is hard.”
Nam-gyu rolls his eyes, scoffing. He leans back in his plushy office chair that he’s allowed to have due to his pseudo-power in the class, and rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “We watched Moana last week,” he says, “Fucking Moana.” And, okay, Su-bong will take that.
“You’re going to fail the class,” Nam-gyu continues, a little too nonchalant for Su-bong’s liking considering the fact that not only is he supposed to graduate this year, but more importantly he’ll also probably be kicked out of his frat, even though he’s sure Gyeong-su is failing three more classes than him currently. “And I don’t have much faith that you’ll pass the final, so there’s not much you can do.” And now, Su-bong’s a little scared. He was expecting that he’d be able to scoot by on barely-passings and extra credit, but now he knows he’s absolutely fucking double screwed.
“At all?” Su-bong asks, eyes wide, one hand clutching the strap of his backpack so tight the white knuckles threaten to protrude through thin, tanned skin. He looks a little bit like he’s constipated as he says, “I can’t just—like, redo it?” Because, what the fuck, seriously. Su-bong knows the professor’s a hard-ass, but he didn’t know the teacher’s assistant was, too.
Nam-gyu leans further back into his office chair, hands folded on his flat stomach. He’s wearing a black long sleeve that’s stretchy around the collar but fitted everywhere else, collarbones and pale swan neck on display. Su-bong’s eyes travel a bit downwards, and he notices that Nam-gyu’s sleeves are pulled over his knuckles. He thinks it’s cute, but then remembers he likes women, and thinks again that it’d be cute, but on a girl. Yeah, a pretty girl with soft curves and doe eyes.
“Hmmm. . .” Nam-gyu hums, ripping Su-bong from his thoughts about exaggerated curves and women who look kind of mean and manly. “You could redo it,” he continues, using his legs to twist his chair from side to side. His thighs are thick, but nothing crazy. His black jeans are tight where his torso and the top of his thighs meet, and Su-bong wants to tongue the junction. “But he doesn’t have any openings in his office hours for the next two weeks—a lot of people failed the test. Just, like, not as bad as you.” And there’s a cheshire grin planted on his face as he says it, and Su-bong feels pitifully small. Out of his element amongst an intellectual who seems to take great pleasure in insulting his intelligence.
“Okay, man, I get it. I failed. I’m dumb as fuck,” Su-bong groans, exasperated and just done with this entire thing. He refuses to let Nam-gyu shove his face in the dirt any further. “But, like, this is serious now, dude. I could fail—and I know you don’t care ‘cause the brothers—listen.” He sighs and plants his hands firmly on the desk in front of him, leaning forward. Nam-gyu’s eyes widen in shock-confusion, pierced eyebrow quirked upwards. “The brothers are throwing a mixer in three days and everyone’s invited. Like, everyone. Even the slutty Kappa girls are gonna be there. So just help me, so I can get my dick wet.”
Nam-gyu stares at him in complete silence for a long, long time. Su-bong remains in his forward leaning position the entire time until Nam-gyu finally speaks. “Wow. Just—wow, man.” And Su-bong feels even fucking dumber. Because, yeah, maybe the exposition wasn’t necessary, but Nam-gyu looks like he’s warming up to the idea of being a good, helpful person, so Su-bong begins to relax.
“There is tutoring,” Nam-gyu continues, and Su-bong shoots straight up, posture like a ballerina as he looks down at Nam-gyu in complete wonder. He feels like he’s been touched by a saint. “By me. It’s one-fifty for an hour and a half. Expensive, but you of all people should take it.”
Su-bong thinks about it for two seconds until he remembers all of the potential hot babes at his fraternity’s mixer and nods his head. Extending his hand out for a confirming handshake. When Nam-gyu looks at his hand with a twisted expression of something that looks like disgust—or maybe he just thinks Su-bong’s so stupid he’s disgusting—Su-bong lets his hand fall back to his side.
“Amazing, man. Yeah, I’m so down,” he says, trying to sound excited. Nam-gyu’s still got that unimpressed-shocked-disgusted-tired-whatever-the-fuck expression on his face, and it’s just now that Su-bong’s beginning to finally understand that this guy is pretty hard to read. He sits behind the desk with his arms crossed and looking angry, but his posture is anything but stiff. He’s completely relaxed, like he lives in this classroom, and like teasing students who are obviously dumber than him is his favorite pastime. Which, now that Su-bong thinks about it, both of those statements could be, and are probably true. It makes him wonder if tutoring actually means tutoring, or if it’s actually a codeword for something that’s super public and super humiliating. Su-bong forces himself to stop thinking about all that, though. Asks, “When?”
“Well since your super awesome mixer with the slutty Kappa girls happens in three days,” Nam-gyu begins, leaning over and underneath the desk to pull out his laptop. It’s decorated in stickers that would usually be used by girls. Su-bong looks at Nam-gyu, his all black outfit and eyebrow piercing, weird jellyfish haircut and cracked nail polish, and back to the pink frilly stickers of various Sanrio characters, and almost wants to laugh at the contradiction. “How about tomorrow, and then you can sell your soul to the Prof and maybe get a redo for the next day?”
Su-bong nods his head. “Yup, sounds great. Really amazing, bro.” And Nam-gyu looks up at him over his glasses. Oh wow. “That’s—I’m excited to learn and to raise my GPA.”
Nam-gyu looks at him weirdly for two more seconds before going, “Anyways.” He types some more things on his laptop, closing it with a dull slam. He then leans back in his chair again, hands crossed over his stomach, thin fingers fidgeting with themselves. His hands are small, almost tiny, Su-bong notices. He can’t stop looking at Nam-gyu’s hands. “You’re good to go now, unless there’s anything else. . .?”
And—there isn’t anything else. Su-bong is just so enthralled by Nam-gyu’s hands, his thin fingers and neatly cut cuticles, that he misses the first time Nam-gyu clears his throat, and then the second. By the time Nam-gyu does it the third time, Su-bong is paying attention.
“No. No, there’s not,” he stutters, feeling a little too hot underneath his pullover. He hikes his backpack further up his shoulder, beams a charming smile at the unimpressed Nam-gyu with the nice, manicured hands and pointy collarbones. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Where—?”
“Library,” Nam-gyu interjects, pushing his thin-framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. So fucking posh. “The study rooms. I’ll choose one for us when you get there.”
Su-bong nods, opens his mouth to say something else, but then he realizes that this is basically the end of the conversation. He wants to say more; how are you, do you come here often, how much do TAs get paid, anyway? But nothing comes out, he just stares dumbly at Nam-gyu like idiots who stare at the sun. He then quickly whips his head around, left, right, and nods again. Inhales, exhales, nods again. Blinks, nods again.
“You can leave now,” comes Nam-gyu’s smooth voice. And as if Su-bong needed instruction; a cue or something, which he never does—he’s never lost his mind quite like this before—he nods one more time and turns to leave.
He leaves the lecture hall with a weird feeling in his chest. And when Su-bong asks Gyeong-su to light up with him later—in the house, despite the fine they’ll get—Gyeong-su doesn’t question it, and packs Su-bong the fattest bowl of his life.
—
As Su-bong stands in the large lobby of his college’s library, waiting for Nam-gyu, he kind of feels like a chick waiting for her prom date to show.
He’s never really been in the library before. Sure, he’s seen it, but he’s never really been inside. He doesn’t have any reason to go to the library; every book in the history of literature is online now as a free ePub and a section on Sparknotes. So as he stands in the lobby, caramel colored wooden floors polished to the high heavens, the smell of stale paper in the air, the only sound being that of echoing, careful footsteps and everyone’s collective breathing, he feels painfully out of place.
He runs a hand through his hair, wincing when one of his rings gets caught in the violet strands. He bounces on the balls of his feet, both hands holding onto the straps of his backpack. He looks around and sees other people meet up with their group partners, smiling and hugging each other as they stalk off to their respective study space. As he observes, he feels more and more like a pathetic girl; stood up by his tutor.
It’s then that Nam-gyu walks in, looking ethereal in a t-shirt that’s two sizes too big and hangs off his skinny shoulders, wide-legged sweatpants, also oversized, the drapey fabric stopping just a millimeter above the floor. He twists his head around, obviously looking for Su-bong, and his hard eyes soften the tiniest bit as soon as they land on him. Su-bong walks towards him, offering a tiny smile in greeting. “I thought you were just gonna take my money and not show,” Su-bong says once he’s in earshot.
“I thought about it,” Nam-gyu says, adjusting his tote bag. He brushes past Su-bong, not bothering with a “hi” or anything as he starts walking towards the private study rooms. “But you’re already kinda on the struggle bus—don’t wanna add to it.”
Su-bong finds Nam-gyu’s bravery with insults endearing, even though it’s annoying at times. He’s a bragger and enjoys rubbing things in people’s faces, and it’s fine, because Su-bong has been wondering for a while when he’d meet his match. It’s come in the form of a short, skinny, emo girl-boy with a GPA of four and possibly an IQ of one-seventy. The entire thing is undeniably sexy.
Undeniable like Nam-gyu’s confidence as he walks through the library and greets every person he sees. He’s popular, Su-bong finds out quickly. He’s never explored outside of his sphere of frat boys and sorority girls. Maybe occasionally he’d smoke with someone who was a liberal arts major, but it was obvious Nam-gyu knew more people than Su-bong. Which is—interesting. To say the absolute least.
When Su-bong and Nam-gyu arrive at their designated study room—study room three—Nam-gyu punches the special code for the room into the keypad that sits just below the door handle. He pushes the door open, sighing in what Su-bong can only assume is relief as the door shuts behind them. The study room isn’t that spacious—maybe medium-sized. There’s a small circle table in the middle of the room with chairs around it, and two bean bag chairs against one wall. There’s an empty bookshelf, and a small plastic bucket filled with all types of chords sitting in the middle of the table. It’s not that bad, honestly. It could be a dorm for someone who was completely incapable of living with other people.
“Sit anywhere,” Nam-gyu mumbles, fixing his glasses with two thin fingers before he places his stuff down on one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rummages around in one of his bags, retrieving his sticker infested laptop before planting himself into one of the cushy bean bag chairs. Su-bong follows suit, placing his bag down on the floor next to the other bean bag chair, and sits down, sinking into it. Nam-gyu’s eyes are glued to his laptop screen as he asks, “Are you in the Google Classroom?”
“I—what?” Su-bong begins frantically looking for his laptop before pulling it out and setting it in his lap. “I thought we used Canvas.”
Nam-gyu only rolls his eyes, “Explains why I haven’t received any of your essays.”
“We had fucking essays?!”
“Chill,” Nam-gyu shushes, raising a hand in a calming motion. “I’ll tell Prof about the mix-up and he’ll let you turn them in. But, dude, you’re fucking useless. You need to keep up with this shit.”
Su-bong curls into himself, shoulders slumped and lips pouted as he navigates to the class’ Google Classroom. “I know,” he mumbles, “I have other shit going on.”
As Nam-gyu waits for Su-bong to pull up the required material, he picks at his nails. He hums, “What stuff?”
“Frat stuff,” Su-bong answers, plain.
Sounding bored, “What kind of frat stuff?” Nam-gyu asks, eyes still looking at his fingernails. Su-bong is beginning to suspect that Nam-gyu doesn’t really respect him. “Slutty Kappa girls frat stuff?”
And Su-bong doesn’t really know why they’re talking about this right now, or why Nam-gyu’s pretending to care about it, but he’s starting to feel a bit pestered. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Hm,” is all Nam-gyu responds with, back on his laptop. “The assignment is under Week Six in the GC,” Nam-gyu explains. Then, “What makes them so slutty, anyway?”
“What?” Su-bong says absentmindedly, laser-focused on finding the assignment that’s threatening Su-bong’s entire academic career.
“The Kappa girls,” Nam-gyu replies. “Like—the assignment on Polynesia, yeah that one—I think I’d do something terrible to the people on this campus if I was known as a slutty Kappa girl. So, like, what? They fuck too porn-y or something?” And Su-bong kind of feels like he can’t breathe right now. He’s afraid he’s wheezing as his shaky fingers open the PDF of the assignment Nam-gyu’s supposed to be explaining—or tutoring—to him. Not talking about the sex tricks sorority girls do. But, the fact that the conversation is so casually dirty and happening in a public environment, makes the entire thing more erotic than it should be to Su-bong. He scratches the side of his neck; it’s hot underneath his fingers.
“They like—” Su-bong struggles, feeling too hot in his hoodie. The smile on the pirate mascot that’s printed on the front’s face is beginning to look less inviting, and more cruel. The unmoving, screen printed eyes look up at him as if to say, What, scared to talk about sex with a dude? And Su-bong isn’t, really, he and Gyeong-su talk about sex all the time. But he doesn’t know how he feels about Nam-gyu, just that he had a very regretful jerk-off session due to him in the communal showers last night, and this is while Su-bong firmly believes he likes women. “Can ride dick on their feet, look you in the eyes during facials.” He pretends to be typing something on his laptop. “Deepthroating without tears. Stuff like that.”
“Mm, wow,” Nam-gyu says, and he still looks so painfully disinterested that Su-bong wonders if this is some sort of sadistic humiliation ritual. “Didn’t think I’d be considered one of those.” Tap tap tap go his fingers across his keyboard. Su-bong’s entire world stops.
“What—” Cogs turning, Su-bong inhales deeply. “You’re a slut? Or a Kappa? Or a Kappa Slut?”
“A slut, I guess,” Nam-gyu mutters. “Wasn’t recruited by Kappa—wasn’t what they were looking for.” And Su-bong assumes this is a joke, knows this is a joke, but his mind is still reeling about the possible slutty-Nam-gyu thing.
“There’s no way you can do all of that—Jesus Christ, I thought this shit would be multiple choice—like. That’s physically impossible.” It only elicits a lazy shrug from Nam-gyu, which irritates Su-bong for whatever reason.
“Not all of it,” he says quietly. Then, louder, “We’ll talk about the essay questions separately.” Then, quietly again, “Just one of those things.”
And if Su-bong looked really close, he could see the slight blush spreading across the back of Nam-gyu’s neck and all the way up to the tips of his ears. He was starting to get shy, or embarrassed, or both as they’re interchangeable Su-bong didn’t really know, but he knew he thought it looked cute. No side thoughts about how it’d look cuter on a girl—no. Just, cute.
“What. . .thing?” Su-bong asks, slow. He’s staring at Nam-gyu with an unbridled amount of intensity, and he doesn’t even realize it. His heartbeat has kicked up about two notches, the blood in his body now molten lava, his brain nothing but a puffy cloud of stuff.
Nam-gyu’s silent for a while, like when Su-bong first told him about the Kappa girls. Then, finally, “Deepthroating.”
Su-bong, genuinely, feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out.
“Oh,” he wheezes, sounding pained. Nam-gyu has finally looked over at him, the light of his laptop reflecting pale blues and cool whites onto the side of his face. He looks pretty today; despite him and Su-bong both wearing pretty bummy clothing, Nam-gyu looks like he’s properly dressed. And it’s only because of his face, Su-bong would think Nam-gyu looks like shit right now if he were anybody else. “That’s not possible.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Scared, fearful, shocked and a little horny, “What? No! Like, I believe you could do it,” Su-bong splutters, and somehow he and Nam-gyu are kind of close to each other. Nam-gyu’s small hands are digging into the bean bag chair beneath him, leaning the slightest bit forward, laptop now at his feet. His head is tilted, glasses on the tip of his nose, shirt drooping so low Su-bong can see the edge of Nam-gyu’s nipple. “But, like. There’s no way you’ve done it before. Or, like. Know you could do it.” He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, clenches his fists at his sides, “You’re—like, a teacher’s assistant. Where would you even find the time for that?”
“I found the time for you, didn’t I?” Nam-gyu responds and. Okay. Okay. Su-bong is definitely confused by the vibes that are being curated right now. He doesn’t know what Nam-gyu means, why he needs Su-bong to know about his dick sucking ability. Any of it. “You really don’t think I can?”
And it sounds like Nam-gyu’s teasing him, like he’s purposely pushing every single button he knows that’ll make him ignite. Nam-gyu’s eyebrow piercing catches the light of Su-bong’s still open laptop, and Su-bong’s eyes immediately transfix on it so he doesn’t have to look at Nam-gyu. “It—Polynesia?” And he feels dumb as he tries to steer the conversation back, but he genuinely has no idea what’s going on right now, even as Nam-gyu’s hand carefully finds itself on Su-bong’s thigh. And this is what dreams are made of, really, because Su-bong kind of imagined this the entire time he was jerking off in the showers yesterday. A soft voice attached to a smart man; condescending as he asks if he wants his cock sucked.
“It’ll be nice,” Nam-gyu says, mouth-to-ear. “And then you won’t need to see those Kappa girls anymore.” Su-bong gulps, eyes still closed because he doesn’t want to look anywhere. He’s never been sucked off by a guy, especially deepthroated by a guy. He’s barely been deepthroated by a woman! But the soft, seductive, almost trashy way Nam-gyu asks to suck him off, hand massaging his thigh, the blinds of the study room drawn shut over the windows—Su-bong would be denser than a fucking cheesecake if he said no.
So he says, “Fuck. Yeah.” Practically throwing his laptop onto the floor as he wraps his large hand around Nam-gyu’s skinny waist. “Wow—uh.”
Su-bong is a sex expert of sorts. A sexpert, if you will. But his mind blanks as soon as he has Nam-gyu in his lap. He stares up at Nam-gyu while Nam-gyu stares down at him. Nam-gyu’s arms are caging Su-bong’s head in, hands planted on the spaces on either side of Su-bong’s head. They stare at each other in testy silence for a few more seconds, before Su-bong builds up the courage to lift his head and chase after a kiss.
He’s stopped by a finger pushed against his lips, pushing his head back with light force. “I don’t do that.”
Su-bong scoffs, laughs. “You really are like the Kappa girls.” Nam-gyu lightly hits his shoulder, then the graceful hand begins to drag down his arm, moving to his front, and then down. Lower, lower.
“Ahh,” Nam-gyu hums, sounding satisfied as he palms Su-bong through his sweatpants. Su-bong sucks in a breath through his teeth as Nam-gyu moves his hand with more intention. “I’m really excited to see it,” he says with a smile that’s so—so.
Su-bong’s hands tighten around Nam-gyu’s waist, and it makes the smaller man flinch just a tiny bit. Then he full-on cups Su-bong’s dick in his hand, squeezing. Su-bong gasps, hand gripping Nam-gyu’s fragile wrist. Nam-gyu halts all of his movements, as does Su-bong. Nam-gyu’s looking down at him over his glasses again, and Su-bong really thinks he’s about to come in his pants. “What, you’re fucking shy? Right now?”
“No, no,” Su-bong immediately shuts down. “I just—have never done this with. A guy? And also,” he exhales through his nose, lets his head fall backwards onto the bean bag chair. “People struggle.”
Nam-gyu blinks, “With your dick?”
Su-bong, sounding ashamed, says, “Yes. With my dick.”
Nam-gyu blinks again, then, “Ohhhhhhhhh.” The hand Su-bong has around Nam-gyu’s wrist tightens as he lets out a groan of embarrassment. Nam-gyu giggles and Su-bong's sure he’s going to die. His moment of self-loathing is interrupted as he feels Nam-gyu slide further down his body, hands dragging against his body the entire time. Soon, Nam-gyu’s settled on his knees, both hands on either of Su-bong’s thigh, nudging them apart. “I won’t.”
And Su-bong opens his mouth to tell him that he shouldn’t be too cocky, that people have actually thrown up on him before, but Nam-gyu pulls his sweatpants and boxers down in one swift motion, and his half-hard cock is suddenly exposed to the chill air of the study room. Su-bong shivers, letting out a weak groan as his hips involuntarily kick upwards. He cracks one of his eyes open, positioning himself so that he’s leaning his weight on his elbows, propping himself up.
He sees Nam-gyu lick his lips hungrily, just—staring at it. Su-bong feels weird, and a little shy for real now, so he looks to the side. His neck is flushed a deep red, as are the tips of his pointy ears. “Please stop staring at it like that,” Su-bong mumbles. “This is starting to get humiliating.”
Su-bong knows it’s big; he’s lived his whole life with it, and he’s always related to that guy in Magic Mike a little too much. He fucking knows. It sits at the humble length of eight-and-a-half inches, he doesn’t even want to guess the girth, but it’s thick. It curves the slightest bit upwards, a fat vein running along the underside of it. His tip is red and weeping precum. And—
“Wow,” Nam-gyu breathes, awestruck. “A piercing. I’ve never encountered one of these in the wild.” Su-bong bites his lip as Nam-gyu wraps a tentative hand around the base. “Ah. Might need two hands.” Su-bong throbs in Nam-gyu’s hand, and waits patiently for him to wrap around another. His hips are moving in tiny circles, trying to get any type of friction he can. But Nam-gyu’s taking his time; admiring Su-bong’s dick like it’s a beautiful piece of meat. Well, Su-bong thinks, I guess it kind of is.
Nam-gyu begins to jerk Su-bong off in slow, long strokes. Flicking his wrist experimentally. Su-bong moans low in his throat, painted fingernails digging into the fabric of the bean bag chair. His thighs are tense as he fully sits up, debating the pros and cons of just shoving his dick in Nam-gyu’s mouth.
“Nam-gyu,” Su-bong says through gritted teeth. “I’m glad you like my dick, but please do something with it before I actually pass out and die.”
Nam-gyu giggles. “But aren’t you proud?” He asks, cheek resting on Su-bong’s thigh as he gives it another quick jerk, tightening his grip. Su-bong is beginning to consider this whole thing a new type of torture method. “Big cock like this—a lot of girls can’t handle it, can they?”
Su-bong is at a loss for words as Nam-gyu turns his head so that his chin is now digging into Su-bong’s thigh. “How many times has this cock been neglected, huh?” Nam-gyu purrs, saying it like he feels bad for Su-bong. His grip tightens more, and his wrist starts to move faster. Su-bong’s leg twitches as Nam-gyu continues to steadily increase the speed of his hand. “Couldn’t fit so you had to use your fingers—jerking yourself off because they can’t put it in their mouths.” Nam-gyu’s words are filthy, snaking into Su-bong’s ears and all throughout his head. He’s so horny he’s starting to grow delirious. Then Nam-gyu wraps his other hand around the base, starts moving them up and down in quick flicks, and as soon as Su-bong moans, loud and guttural, he knows that this will be the best head he’ll ever receive in his life.
“Fuck,” he growls, one hand instinctively moving to Nam-gyu’s head, not pushing but just resting there. “You talk—so fucking much.” He thrusts his hips upwards, his tip rubs against Nam-gyu’s cheek. “Do you even know how to deepthroat? Are you stalling? I swear to fucking god, man.” And maybe it’s rude of Su-bong to assume that Nam-gyu’s lying about everything and that he’s a master manipulator. But his cock is so hard it hurts, and that's the nicest thing he could think of to say to Nam-gyu to motivate him to get on with it.
“I just want you to know how much I love your cock, baby,” the pet name causes Su-bong to shiver. “But, okay.”
Su-bong’s about to genuinely thank him before Nam-gyu opens his mouth wide and takes half of him in one go without struggle. Su-bong makes a weird choking sound that’s a mix of a moan and a surprised gasp. His hands fly to Nam-gyu’s hair, tangling themselves in the inky black strands. “F—uuuuck.”
Nam-gyu hums a small mhm, lifting his head up slowly before slamming it back down. This time the tip of Su-bong’s cock hits the back of Nam-gyu’s throat and he sees stars. It’s wet and kind of sloppy, but there’s no teeth and Nam-gyu hollows his cheeks like a cock sucking professional. His hands are still gripping the base of Su-bong’s dick as he leisurely bobs his head, his tongue tracing the vein on the underside as he does.
“Oh my god,” Su-bong babbles, voice shaky as Nam-gyu continues his slow, steady pace. He moves his hands to rest them on Su-bong’s thighs—he’s definitely as slutty as the Kappa girls, maybe even moreso. He feels Nam-gyu’s throat open as Nam-gyu begins to sink deeper and deeper onto Su-bong’s cock. Inch by inch, he carefully shoves him in his throat and it feels fucking amazing.
Nam-gyu’s throat is warm and tight, the sounds obscene as he pulls off completely. He takes Su-bong’s cock and slaps it against his tongue, turning his head to the side as he begins to bob his head again. The tip of Su-bong’s cock pushes against the textured inside of Nam-gyu’s cheek, making the skin stretch in an unbelievably sexy way that makes Su-bong’s toes curl. The sensation is weird, but pleasurable, and Su-bong can’t help it as he grabs onto Nam-gyu’s hair tighter and begins to fuck into his mouth.
Nam-gyu lets him for about two minutes before he slaps Su-bong’s hands, scolding. He loosens his grip and tries to force his hips down, but it’s all done in vain as they twitch against his will. It feels so good—and he feels like a man possessed as he continues to fuck into Nam-gyu’s mouth even after he lets out a little disapproving noise.
Nam-gyu shakes his head and Su-bong relents, letting him go entirely as he falls backwards and slack against the bean bag chair. His hands are still in Nam-gyu’s hair, but his brain is too fried from the feeling of wet lips around his thick dick that he can’t really think to start guiding his head again. “Sorry, sorry,” Su-bong wheezes, “Fuck. Oh my god.”
Nam-gyu pulls off Su-bong's cock with another indecent sound and looks up at Su-bong with those eyes—filled with something indiscernible, but it’s akin to how a predator looks at its prey. Su-bong wouldn’t mind being eaten completely by Nam-gyu; dick or otherwise.
“You’re good,” Nam-gyu says, voice sounding wrecked as he lazily strokes Su-bong. It makes a shk shk shk sound every time he flicks his wrist downwards. “It just means you’re enjoying it.”
“Fuck yeah I am,” Su-bong mumbles, “Don’t stop.”
Nam-gyu nods, ever so obedient, and sweeps Su-bong’s cock back into his mouth. His pace is slow when he starts again, but then it gets faster, more desperate. It’s like Su-bong’s cock is the one thing keeping him alive and giving him energy, and the eagerness in which Nam-gyu swallows his cock whole is enough for a tight heat to begin to pool in his lower stomach.
It goes on like that for a few more minutes before Nam-gyu pulls off again, and Su-bong whines. There’s a wet patch on his sweatpants from how messily Nam-gyu was sucking him off; all spit and precum mixing into the soft cotton. It’s—really hot.
“What. What?” Su-bong hisses, bucking his hips upwards, his cock ghosts against the hot skin of Nam-gyu’s cheek. “What the fuck?”
“I’m gonna do something,” Nam-gyu begins, pushing Su-bong’s thighs open wider. “Don’t freak out.”
“Wh—” And before he can finish Nam-gyu shoves Su-bong’s dick back into his mouth. He bobs his head once, twice, before slowly inching further downwards. Small oh oh ohs fall from Su-bong’s slack lips as he does. His fingers tangle back into Nam-gyu’s hair, eyes shut tightly. “Oh, Nam-gyu. I s—swear.”
And before Su-bong knows it, he’s fully in Nam-gyu’s throat. Nam-gyu makes a small gagging noise once Su-bong bottoms out, but there’s absolutely zero tears. Su-bong thanks every divine being that exists.
Su-bong’s breathing heavily as Nam-gyu just sits there with his cock buried in his throat. He then moves a millimeter backwards, and rams Su-bong’s cock back into the depths of his throat, and Su-bong lets out an embarrassingly broken moan. He babbles; your throat feels so good, I’m gonna fucking come, I think I love you, and Nam-gyu just sits there and takes it.
Nam-gyu begins to bob his head again, and after two seconds of feeling the consistent tight, blistering heat of Nam-gyu’s mouth, Su-bong loses all inhibition and thrusts his hips hard forward. The force makes Nam-gyu choke, but he gives Su-bong a thumbs up when he opens his glossy eyes to see if Nam-gyu’s okay. Nam-gyu then pats Su-bong’s thigh, nodding to the best of his ability, and Su-bong knows what that means immediately.
He positions himself so that he’s able to shove himself further down Nam-gyu’s throat, his ass on the edge of the bean bag chair now, Nam-gyu on all fours with his back arched beautifully. Su-bong fucks into Nam-gyu’s mouth as best as he can, considering how Nam-gyu’s nose is basically stabbing Su-bong’s lower stomach. He doesn’t have a good rhythm, and he’s letting out all these broken pants and loud whines that he’s starting to feel like a virgin.
But then Nam-gyu puts a hand on his neck, around the indent Su-bong’s cock leaves whenever he re-enters Nam-gyu’s throat, and Su-bong can feel Nam-gyu’s fingers through the skin. He can feel Nam-gyu’s grip tighten, almost like he’s choking himself while simultaneously stroking Su-bong’s cock that’s already found a home in his willing mouth. Su-bong bends at the hips, curling in on himself as he holds Nam-gyu’s head still, fucking into it at a quick, primal pace.
“Ohh I’m gonna come,” Su-bong moans, his lower stomach feeling tight as the hand Nam-gyu has around his neck squeezes with each thrust. It’s like getting a handjob and a blowjob at the same time—it’s pornographic and should be getting recorded but Su-bong kind of forgot all about that as soon as Nam-gyu pulled his pants down. “I’m gonna fucking—”
He thrusts his hips as far up as they will go, legs shaking almost violently as he blows his load into Nam-gyu’s throat, directly into his stomach. He raises Nam-gyu’s head, then slams it back down, fucking himself through his orgasm. He feels Nam-gyu swallow around him with each pump of come, and it causes his cock to twitch as his orgasm starts to end. He shudders when it's finished, the aftershocks causing him to feel a little cold all of a sudden.
Nam-gyu taps Su-bong’s thigh after a minute, and Su-bong’s confused until he remembers that Nam-gyu is a person and not a high quality fleshlight. He lets go, hissing as Nam-gyu slowly raises himself off of Su-bong. He looks satisfied with himself as he asks, “Good?”
Su-bong, now nothing more than a bundle of jelly limbs, says, “The best.”
Nam-gyu giggles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawls back into his own bean bag chair, eyes focused on the side of Su-bong’s face as he just lays there. Dazed and with drained balls. “I’m glad you liked it.”
Su-bong lazily turns his head, eyes immediately training on the tent in between Nam-gyu’s legs. Nam-gyu looks down at himself when he notices Su-bong staring, then tsks. “It’ll go down in a few minutes.”
“Oh, great,” Su-bong says, shaky arms reaching to pull his sweatpants and boxers up from his ankles and over his legs. “I wasn’t gonna offer anyways—no offense. Just not into that.” He then grabs his laptop, sliding it over his reclothed legs and reopens the Google Classroom. The nonchalance of it all makes Nam-gyu squint.
“Just not—” Nam-gyu begins, but seems to have a moment of clarity and shuts his mouth, shaking his head. He sighs, “Like—you know what. Okay. Okay. Okay.” And Su-bong’s kind of confused, but doesn’t really question it. Nam-gyu fixes his glasses, crooked from the facefucking, and grabs his own laptop and places it into his lap. Long, should-be-a-pianist fingers begin to type frantically against the keyboard before Nam-gyu pinches the bridge of his nose. A cute quirk—not cute if it was a girl. Just cute. Su-bong thinks Nam-gyu is cute.
“So,” Nam-gyu starts, disinterested and not looking at Su-bong like the way he was before. Su-bong wonders if this is how Nam-gyu flirts, how he gets things. Su-bong wouldn’t mind giving him everything he wants. “Polynesia?”