I like us better when we're wasted (1/2)
Chen/Kai/Sehun, 12928, NC17
Warning: a bit of dubcon/noncon
Jongdae wakes up in between two freshmen and it goes downhill from there. ( prompt)
“This is our last free night,” Baekhyun muses, sprawled out on their futon.
Jongdae groans. “Don’t remind me.” He has planning to do, people to call, and it’s already well past nine so all of that will have to wait until tomorrow anyway. He’s been lounging around their apartment all day, bored out of his mind. He doesn't even want to think of all the things he has to do tomorrow. A perky ding from Baekhyun’s phone pulls him from his musings. He picks his head up off the floor and stares at Baekhyun, who is now donning a smile. “What? Who is it?”
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun chirps, sitting up, “And it looks like someone’s throwing a huge end of summer party.”
Jongdae’s already pulling on his shoes. “Hurry up!” He yells at Baekhyun, who merely laughs and takes his time throwing on a light jacket-so that someone can tear it off him, he explains, and Jongdae gags-and pulls on his shoes. They pile into Jongdae’s crappy sedan and they’re off, Baekhyun shouting directions while Jongdae blasts overplayed pop music.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Jongdae asks with a slight smirk, parking on the grass in front of a house that’s overflowing with people. He can already feel the bass through the frame of his car.
Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Shut up. I need to get drunk. Hopefully, I won’t have to see your face until sometime tomorrow afternoon.” He bids his goodbye cheerfully, slamming the door shut with finality. Jongdae echoes his hopes and locks his car, noting that he’s close enough to campus to pick it up tomorrow. Tonight maybe he’ll get to sleep in someone else’s apartment.
Even before he enters, Jongdae grabs an offered bottle of cheap beer and grins. Tonight looks promising already.
It’s crowded inside with people wall to wall. He travels from one room to another, accepting red solo cups filled with indistinguishable alcohol-he thanks the heavens for his high tolerance-and notes with happiness the gazes he's receiving from guys and girls alike that undress him down to nothing.
The music gets louder and Jongdae grows bolder, chatting idly with new faces and even making out with a few. He doesn’t recognize anyone until he notices a girl from an advanced calculus class he had in the spring and sees the recognition mirrored on her face. They make out in the stairway for a while, until he sees a lone man stealing glances at them from the top of the stairs and reluctantly pulls away-he and she had some hook ups after study sessions, and he was hoping for another-pointing at the man when she gives him a questioning glance. Her face lights up-his glances were obviously for her-and she gives him one last open-mouthed kiss before pulling away.
Jongdae sucks face with two more strangers before he happens upon Chanyeol, who’s parked in the backyard with a small guy on his lap, arms holding him close.
“Thanks for the invite,” Jongdae mumbles between sips of something orange and delightfully sweet.
“I knew you would be hanging around in your sad little apartment if I didn’t,” Chanyeol says with a grin. The man in his lap looks out of place, and Chanyeol quickly realizes his discomfort and works to dispel it, because that’s what Chanyeol does. “Jongdae, this is Minseok. He’s going to be a senior.”
Jongdae grins. “Hey, congrats at making it out of undergrad hell! Have you decided if you’re going to go on to grad school, yet?”
Chanyeol looks like he’s holding back laughter. Jongdae shoots him a look. “He’s going to be graduating with a masters,” he reiterates. Minseok nods in agreement, an impish smile on his face.
Minseok is very nice, but Jongdae knows a cockblock when he sees one, and he's blocking some cock right now, so he bids adieu shortly after the introduction and rolls his eyes at Chanyeol’s triumphant fist-punch.
Jongdae dives back into the fray, noting with glee the grinding that has begun in his absence. He snatches up a jello shot and downs it before squeezing between two writhing bodies that gladly welcome him in.
It’s between a trip into the kitchen to get more time with a tall guy with a defined chest and sloppy but insistent kisses, and a drink offered by a shouting girl that the edges of Jongdae’s vision start to go fuzzy. Joonmyun’s lecture from the last time he had a particularly awful hangover plays in his head like a broken record but quickly fades into nothing when a body presses up against Jongdae. He accepts the attention greedily, leaning up to connect their lips. The last thing he notes is the impressive height of his new partner before losing himself in the pounding bass and the warm hands cupping his ass through his jeans.
Jongdae wakes with a start, eyes flying open and then closing again. His head is pounding and he can’t remember how he got home. He tries to lift a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight pouring over his face but finds himself unable to do so. He frowns, opening his eyes again and blinking until things come into focus and he can clearly see the issue. He can’t raise his arm because there is another on top of it.
The second thing that Jongdae notices is that he wasn’t sleeping on a very stiff pillow, he’s sleeping on a person. Jongdae jerks up and freezes when he disturbs the sleeping man, but relaxes when he simply throws his arm over his face and goes back to sleep. Now, Jongdae takes a moment to assess the situation.
His legs are tangled with two other pairs. He has a blond boy on his left and a brunet on his right. He would be pleased with his conquest if not for the fact that god, they’re naked. All three of them. A blanket is strewn on the floor and Jongdae had only been warm before because the brunet had been hugging him to his chest and the blond was against his back. Jongdae struggles to extract himself and from the two bodies, rolling off the twin-sized bed. He hits the ground on his back with a low thump, wincing when it prompts a dull pain to make itself clear.
Jongdae stands and nearly shouts in frustration. He can’t remember anything from last night, least of all these two. Jongdae stills. God. Two. He’d slept with two guys. Because one stranger hadn’t been enough. He takes a step back and notices with horror the dried cum on the inside of his thigh. Well that settles it.
The blond on the bed stirs and Jongdae jumps into action despite his aching head, back, and everything else. He gathers his clothes with speed and precision-why one shoe is on top of a duct tape-littered laptop and the other is under a leather jacket is beyond him-and waits until he’s behind the closed door to the room before putting it all back on. Nothing smells like throw up, thank the heavens. He catches a bespeckled teen watching him from behind a cracked door across the hall and flips him off, still scowling even after the boy has closed his door.
Jongdae notes the room number (twenty-seventeen) and high-tails it out of there, practically running down the stairs and outside. With unhidden alarm, he sees that the dorm is one for undergraduates, but doesn’t have time to think any more of it because he has no idea what time it is and he’s supposed to teach a class today. His phone is still in his pocket thanks to some benevolent force and Jongdae takes it out only to scowl.
The battery is dead.
He practically runs to the TA lounge-that’s not its actual name but its actual name is stupid so-and practically melts into a puddle of pleased goo when he sees that, among others, Baekhyun is inside. He runs over and throws himself onto his friend.
“Jongdae-you’re wearing the same clothes as last night, ew, get off,” Baekhyun complains, trying to push him away but Jongdae sticks firmly to his front, leaning back only to settle himself on Baekhyun’s lap and note that unlike himself, Baekhyun had a chance to shower and change clothes. His eyes widen in disbelief.
“I came back to the apartment after you went AWOL. My guy left this morning. So, what’s your story?” Baekhyun crosses his arms, lifting a brow.
Jongdae colors, remembering the two naked bodies, and looks away. “I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. Then he catches sight of his backpack by the leg of the chair and snatches it up with glee. Inside he finds all of his course materials and-bless-a phone charger. He thinks he might cry. He’s never been given something so beautiful.
“Don’t be dramatic. Your class starts in thirty minutes, you slob.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not enough time for a shower.”
“At least his class isn’t on the other side of campus,” Luhan whines from across the room and Jongdae is affronted until he remembers that you can’t be in the same room as Luhan and not expect him to eavesdrop on every conversation.
“You were pretty excited to be teaching Spectacular Sonnets like a month ago,” Chanyeol mutters without looking up from his phone.
Luhan narrows his eyes. “I’m teaching Introduction to Poetry.”
“Spectacular Sonnets sounds so much cooler, though,” Chanyeol whines, finally setting his phone down. “Jongdae, we’re in adjoining buildings for eight am classes, you wanna walk together?”
Jongdae nods emphatically and artfully deflects any further questions concerning last night from Baekhyun until it’s time to leave. As soon as they’re in the hall, Jongdae caves. He’s actually horrible at keeping secrets and he’s been feeling like he was going to burst since he first realized his situation.
“I woke up in an underclassmen dorm, Chanyeol,” he cries, not caring about volume. His anguish has been unleashed. “Underclassmen,” he repeats, clawing at his face as they head outside. He’ll keep the two guys thing a secret. He doesn’t need anyone to know that bit.
“Maybe he was an RA?” Chanyeol suggests helpfully. “I don’t know why you’re tearing yourself up about this. This place is huge. I barely see you, no way are you ever going to see this guy again, man.” He looks at Jongdae sympathetically and then bites his lip, pointing vaguely to his neck. Jongdae touches his neck and feels a dull pain. Hickies. He tugs the collar of his shirt up and flushes. “So, what class are you teaching?”
Jongdae reluctantly drops his collar and answers, “Linear Algebra. It’s the first of a series so it’ll just be freshmen.”
“Fun,” Chanyeol supplies with a wide grin. “I’ve got a 100-level bio class. I looked over the labs and they’re ah-maze-ing.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Nerd.”
They split at the staircase inside the math building and Jongdae goes up two levels, locating and unlocking his room. It’s small-he only has a class of twenty-something-but the whiteboard is clean and he’d been informed that each desk was equipped with a working computer. He sets himself up at the teacher’s desk at the front, plugging in his phone and jotting down his name and important details about the class on the whiteboard as the early students start coming in. He allows a twenty minute grace period since it’s the first day of classes before turning and starting the lesson.
His heart leaps into his throat and his hands clench on the edge of the desk. In the back of the class, two boys are sitting next to each other, one blond and the other a brunet. Jongdae notes wryly that they look even better when dressed and that the brown-haired boy looks exhausted. He locks gazes with the blond and thinks he sees a flash of recognition. He tears his eyes away and focuses on an excited girl in the front row before launching into his lesson.
He slept with fucking freshmen. Two. Two fucking freshmen that just happen to be in one of the two classes he’s the TA for this fall. He thinks its some sort of cosmic joke. Baekhyun would love it. He’d make fun of him for years. Jongdae would never live it down, it would be That One Time He Sort Of Had A Threesome Maybe… he doesn’t really know. Maybe it was just cuddling. Naked. Yeah.
Surprisingly-thankfully-neither boy talks to him. Even during class, they’re always either dozing (Jongdae can’t blame them, if he could choose he’d be back home sleeping, too) or not paying attention. Jongdae is relieved. Maybe he’ll be able to forget the whole thing.
Except sometimes, late at night, he remembers how he had been pressed between the two of them and he wonders what it was like, how they made it work on the tiny bed. If they even made it to the bed. He thinks of all the possibilities, and then has to sneak a hand into his boxers and muffles his moans with his arm as he comes into his hand.
One day, while grading papers, he pauses and looks over the roster he’d made to fit a seating chart, because it’d become pretty much regular after the third week. There, in the back, he has Oh Sehun and Kim Jongin. He drops everything he’s doing and calls Yixing, a friend who works in housing and who owes him a favor. He finds out that they’re roommates in room numbed twenty-seventeen, and after a little more urging, that they’re both undecided majors and over eighteen (thank god).
Other than that, he doesn’t do much more to find more about them and stays stubbornly silent against Baekhyun’s whiny urging to tell him what happened that night.
Nothing big happens until a week before midterms.
His students are filing out of the room and Jongdae begins putting his things away when someone stops in front of his desk. He looks up, polite smile at the ready. The smile slides off his face when he sees who it is, and slowly returns to loading the papers into his backpack. The brunet stands patiently on the other side of his desk. Kim Jongin, his brain supplies.
“I have a question,” the boy starts.
Jongdae nods, mentally reprimanding himself. He’s supposed to be a figure of authority, dammit. “Did you check the syllabus first?”
“I doubt the syllabus would help me,” the boy says wryly, leaning onto the desk. “I was wondering why you left so suddenly. You didn’t even leave a number.”
“I’m sorry?”
Kim Jongin sighs. “I wasn’t sure it was you at first. But Sehun was positive-he thought you’d make the first move, too. But I knew we’d have to do something.” He languidly makes his way over to the door and Jongdae hurriedly packs away the last of his things, head snapping up when he hears a click and the rustling of the shutters falling over the window in the door. He barely has time to blink before Kim Jongin is back in front of him, pushing him against his desk so that the edge digs into his back and he has to look up slightly to meet deep brown, calculating eyes.
And then he’s being kissed, soft and chaste until a tongue pokes at his lips and he parts them with a low sigh, hands coming up to fist in Kim Jongin’s soft tee. It’s all well and good, warm hands ghosting up his sides, until the boy presses closer and Jongdae can feel the bulge pushing against his own hardening length.
His eyes fly open-when had he closed them?-and he tries to pull away, only to earn a none too gentle bite on his lip. He whines and then groans as nimble fingers undo the front of his jeans and push them slightly down, two hands dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to pull out his dick. Jongdae moans into the open mouth as a hand strokes him to full hardness, then smears precum over the tip before tugging him at a maddeningly slow pace. Between that and the hand smoothing over his covered ass, Jongdae’s soon panting, demanding sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he nears his climax.
He opens his eyes just before it hits him, catches Kim Jongin’s forehead furrowed in concentration and lips swollen and wet. His chest seizes and he thrusts into the loose grip, coming with a cry that’s quickly muted by insistent lips. The hand strokes him through his orgasm, until Jongdae is whining and pushing the arm away. The hand reluctantly leaves him, wiping translucent white onto his boxers as Jongdae leans on the table for support.
Kim Jongin tucks him back in and zips up his pants methodically, leaving one last kiss on the jaw a very shocked Jongdae.
“If you’d thought of us as just a one night stand, I’d like to ask you to reconsider,” Jongin murmurs, voice breathy and eyes searching. Then he turns and walks out of the room.
Jongdae collapses into his chair and wonders what the hell just happened.
He gets to the TA lounge early after angsting the whole night, wriggling onto the couch beside Chanyeol because Baekhyun’s taking his time today, had still been in the shower when Jongdae left. “My friend has a problem,” he says, voice just above a whisper.
Chanyeol hums to show he’s paying attention.
“He got really drunk at this party, stuff happened, and he woke up next to two guys.” Chanyeol’s jaw drops and he meets Jongdae’s eyes. Somewhere in the room, a pen hits the floor. “So my friend,” he emphasizes, “teaches this freshman music course.” A guy at the back of the room shouts, It’s not me, when someone next to him asks. “The guys are in this class and he kind of thought it would be a one night stand but maybe one of the guys gave him a really good handjob yesterday after class and what is he supposed to do?”
Chanyeol nods sagely, unfazed. “Maybe your friend needs to be a little more open-minded. He doesn’t know if a relationship would necessarily be a bad thing, right? So why not just try it out?”
Jongdae nods slowly. Maybe he should reconsider, like Kim Jongin had said.
“Your friend has problems,” Luhan announces, seated on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Chanyeol, you need to stay away from Kim Minseok. He is claimed already. I mean… not that I’ve asked him out yet. But I’m going to and you need to back off!” He finishes angrily.
“That sounds like a challenge,” Chanyeol says with a grin. Luhan screams his disagreement and Jongdae takes that as his cue to leave.
He doesn’t really have time to see where things can go with the freshmen, though, because he has midterms to grade and his own assignments to worry about, and obviously the two boys are facing the same problems, because neither makes a move until well into autumn, when there’s four weeks of class left.
Jongdae’s grading papers at his desk, students long gone, when he finds my room, 7pm scrawled at the bottom of a homework assignment. He looks up to check the name and his breath catches in his throat. Oh Sehun. He packs up and makes his way over to the library as fast as he can.
It’s Baekhyun's favorite place to hide and predictably, the man is there, sitting in the way back in a lounge chair. It’s only him and a girl back here, but she’s taking a nap in the corner so Jongdae hops onto Baekhyun’s lap without issue.
“What-” the man begins, but then Jongdae takes out the assignment and shows him the note at the bottom.
“Are you trying to ask me if I think you should get laid tonight?” Baekhyun asks, bringing the note close to analyze it.
Jongdae nods.
Baekhyun laughs. “You know what my answer is.” He checks the clock and swears. “I’ve got a class I’m late for,” he says, pushing Jongdae off his lap. “When you get home I want you to tell me everything.” Halfway to the door, he screws up his face and stops. “Nevermind. Don’t tell me everything.”
Jongdae’s last class ends at four, so he grabs something to eat and tries to make headway in a project before making his way across campus at ten till seven, towards the underclassmen dorms, decision made. He heads up the stairs slowly, second-guessing himself in his mind the whole way. When he reaches the door he stops to take a breath, then knocks.
The door opens and a blond head pokes out. A small, tired smile works its way onto the boy’s face. “You came!”
Jongdae tries to voice a reply but fails when he sees that Oh Sehun is not wearing a shirt. He lets himself be ushered inside, and looks at everything but the boy, noting that the room is about the same. A little messier, but everything is the same as he remembers from that morning. There’s the twin bed beneath the window and another neatly made one pushed against the wall. He shakes off the feeling of familiarity. All these rooms look the same. He turns to ask Oh Sehun why he was invited here, but as soon as he turns, a body slams up against him, lips quickly and efficiently working his own open and a tongue joins the mix. Oh Sehun kisses differently than his roommate. Kim Jongin kissed like he was trying to prove something. Oh Sehun kisses like he’s already proven everything he needs.
Jongdae’s backpack is thrown to the ground and shortly after his shirt joins it, easily peeled off of him by Oh Sehun’s deft hands, their lips parting only for a moment. Those hands immediately splay over his chest and Jongdae exhales in a short breath, angling his head so that Oh Sehun is licking right into his open mouth. They move slowly, in no rush, and then the back of Jongdae’s knees hit the bed and he tips backwards when the taller boy-Jongdae grudgingly admits that he’s a little shorter than the kid-gives him a small push.
Oh Sehun immediately attaches his lips to Jongdae’s stomach, giving small, bruising kisses as he makes quick work of Jongdae’s jeans. He makes a small, appreciative noise when he has the pants around Jongdae’s ankles, the bulge in his boxers now visible. Jongdae’s head is swimming, but he kicks his shoes off and works his pants the rest of the way down his legs as Oh Sehun gets on the bed and straddles his waist, looking down at him with unreadable eyes.
Jongdae’s embarrassed to find that he’s already out of breath. “Oh Sehun,” he starts, but the boy cuts him off.
“You’re not teaching a class right now, Jongdae,” the boy murmurs, and the way he says his name has goosebumps prickling on Jongdae’s exposed skin, “call me Sehun.”
“Sehun,” Jongdae tries, and earns a quick kiss for his efforts. “Where is-”
Sehun interrupts yet again. “Jongin is at dance team practice. We have an hour until he gets back.” He leans forward and whispers right into Jongdae’s ear, “I didn’t tell him that I asked you to come here.”
Jongdae’s eyes fall shut and he lets out a shuddering breath. To be very honest, he’s extremely upset that he doesn’t remember anything about what happened that night. He’s so engrossed in trying to guess the details that he doesn’t realize Sehun’s moved to kneel between his thighs until his boxers are being peeled away with his pants and thrown with the rest of his clothes. He looks down and has to bite back a groan. Sehun’s looking up at him, lips hovering just above his erect dick. Before either can say anything, Sehun bows his head and presses a chaste kiss to the tip of his member and Jongdae groans, head falling back on the pillow.
Sehun gives head like he kisses; like he has all the time in the world, swallowing around Jongdae and engulfing all that he can, his hand taking care of the rest. Then he pulls back and licks his lips, saliva and precum smearing on his chin. He brings Jongdae to the edge and then pulls him over with a gentle tug coupled with an audible suck, and the air rushes out of Jongdae as he comes into Sehun’s mouth, the boy leaning back as he swallows all of it, eyes locking with Jongdae’s. The older covers his face with his hands and moans.
“Jongdae,” Sehun starts, voice wrecked but clear, “I want to do it again. Sober, this time.”
And though Jongdae doesn't remember anything, so wouldn't be trying anything again, he disagrees. He thinks he’s in need of a lot more alcohol right about now. He scoffs, “So you didn’t bring me here just to suck me off?” Sehun doesn’t budge, watching him closely. Jongdae sighs, realizing that the boy is waiting for an answer. He sighs. Fuck it. “I don’t just let anyone fuck me,” he says, getting comfortable, “so you’d better show me that you’re worth it.”
Sehun nods seriously, like Jongdae’s just given him a mission. He straddles Jongdae’s waist again and leans over him to grab something from the bedside table, returning with a bottle of lube and a condom. He moves to kneel between Jongdae’s thighs, leaving the bottle on the bed for a moment so that he can pull Jongdae’s legs up and sling them over his shoulders. Jongdae hears the snap of the bottle opening and then nothing. He looks up and Sehun’s staring at him, waiting for something. Jongdae releases a breath and nods at him to continue, body seizing when a slick finger sneaks past his entrance. It’s joined by a second, and then a third. They crook and push further in, searching for something and Jongdae cries out when they find it. He thinks he catches a pleased grin on Sehun’s face as the boy continues to assault his prostate, Jongdae’s breaths short and quick. The fingers leave him and Jongdae moans, clenching on air. He hears the condom packet being ripped open, and assumes the silence that follows is Sehun pulling it on.
Sehun enters him with a quick thrust, and they moan together. Jongdae clenches his teeth. Sehun’s not thick, but he’s longer than a lot of guys Jongdae has been with, so he grunts out an order to move, before he starts to regret, and Sehun does.
Sehun fucks into him with slow, controlled movements, and it’s absolutely maddening. Jongdae hates it, clawing at Sehun’s back to show his dissatisfaction. Sehun grunts and quickens the pace, reducing Jongdae to a mess as he hits that spot with every other thrust. Sehun reaches between them to grab Jongdae’s dick and strokes him in time with his thrusts, which gradually become erratic and uncontrolled, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Jongdae comes with a cry of Sehun’s name, vision going white. The boy falls forward, holding himself up with hands bracketing Jongdae’s head. He leans his forehead against Jongdae’s, their breaths mixing, and then when he comes with a hard thrust, Sehun searches for Jongdae’s lips hungrily, offering messy open-mouthed kisses before pulling out.
Jongdae is focusing on catching his breath, so he doesn't move when Sehun lays down beside him, both of them on their side in order to fit on the bed. Sehun throws an arm over his waist and Jongdae breathes in, humming contentedly. Sehun smells like sweat and cum, but Jongdae supposes he does, too, so he doesn’t object when Sehun wiggles closer and buries his face in Jongdae’s hair.
“Jongin was right,” he murmurs, “you’re more responsive when you’re not shitfaced.”
Jongdae stiffens at the reminder and pulls himself out of the bed, ignoring Sehun’s whining. He quickly pulls on all of his clothes, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sehun slowly sits up and disposes of his condom in a trash can by the bed. Jongdae wonders stuff like this happens so often that the trash had been moved closer to the bed.
With all of his clothes hastily put back on and backpack slung over one shoulder, Jongdae shifts from foot to foot. How is he supposed to leave? Does he kiss Sehun goodbye? Do they hug? How does one leave after… whatever that was?
“You know,” Sehun begins, tracing patterns in the mattress cover, “Jongin will be back soon.” He sounds almost hopeful.
Jongdae nods. “Yeah, that’s why I’m leaving now.” He ignores the way the boy’s shoulders slump and quickly heads for the door. He decided that a wave is more than enough, throwing a casual, "Bye," over his shoulder before the door closes behind him.
He sprints down the stairs, thankfully not running into any tall brunets on the way, and doesn't stop for a second until he's within the safety of his car.
Baekhyun's waiting for him in the kitchen when he gets home. "So," he prompts, setting aside his textbook so that Jongdae has all of his attention, "how was it?"
"I've had better," Jongdae admits, kicking his shoes off in the foyer and dumping his backpack by the dining room table.
"But?" Baekhyun asks, lifting a brow.
"But I feel like jelly," Jongdae groans, falling face-first onto the couch.
Baekhyun laughs.
Jongdae wonders if there's a label for this. Friends with benefits seems too intimate, and fuck buddies implies some sort of routine or at least regular meet-ups, so Jongdae gives up. He supposes that there was never a need for a label to fit his situation, because he doubts it ever happens. But Jongdae's lucky like that.
As the work piles up, he tries to take his mind off of relationship issues and focus on academics. His scholarship requires him to keep a 3.0 GPA, and if he starts this semester off on the wrong foot, he'll have to fight all through spring semester to keep his grades in check.
He starts living in the library, heading there whenever he isn't teaching, eating, or sleeping, because all he wants to do when he's home alone is stick a hand down his pants and remember the way Sehun's lips looked around his dick, so instead he stays in the library. There, he can stay focused and actually work.
He's in the middle of researching, at least ten books piled in front of him with the pages he needs to read noted with post-its, when he hears a noise of surprise. He looks up and stares, stomach churning.
Kim Jongin is standing in between two bookshelves, staring right back.
He takes a step forward and Jongdae springs into action, stacking the books into manageable piles and about to stand and leave before the boy can make it over to him.
"Wait."
Jongdae stills and looks up, two books still in hand and the rest on the desk in front of him.
"I'm sorry," the boy says, looking sincere. "I was looking for a place to crash. I can go somewhere else, you don't have to move."
"No, it's fine," Jongdae says before he can think better of it. He's the only one at this desk and there's five empty chairs. Any other desks are probably taken by study groups or hoardes of books. He can spare the space, especially if the kid is just going to sleep. "There's room here."
With surprising enthusiasm, Jongin thanks him loud enough to earn a shush, had they been on the main floor. He throws his backpack onto one of the chairs and seats himself in another, right next to Jongdae.
Going back to his research, Jongdae spares himself a moment to roll his eyes. Out of all the chairs available, of course the kid would sit next to him. Thankfully, the boy doesn't speak and Jongdae completely forgets he’s even there until something falls onto his shoulder. He looks down his nose and sees a mop of brown hair. He holds back a laugh and tussles the hair with his hand. The kid’s out cold.
Jongdae actually gets a lot done. He’s marked down passages from each book and is in the middle of organizing his thoughts when Jongin sits up. Jongdae quickly checks the time on his phone and frowns. It’s been three hours, which means he’s going to be exhausted for the rest of the day. He turns to Jongin, who’s rubbing his eyes, and almost coos. How cute.
“M’sorry,” Jongin mumbles, eyes still bleary, “didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
Jongdae waves him off, adding another point to his list before he forgets it. “Not a problem. You’ve only got a couple hours until class, though.” He sets his books aside and watches as Jongin scrunches his face up. The kid even made little snuffling sounds in his sleep, Jongdae remembers with a smile. He thinks he might have drool on his shoulder but he doesn’t really care. He’s not a fan of this shirt, anyway.
Jongin sighs. “There’s no point in going back to sleep,” he mumbles, but lays his head down on the table, using his arm as a pillow.
“Suit yourself,” Jongdae chirps, pulling out all the worksheets he’ll be using in classes today. He needs to make sure that there are enough copies, and he forgot to make an answer key. The TA lounge has a coffee maker, he’ll just drink ten cups in rapid succession before dragging himself to class. No problem. He starts writing in the steps to answer the first question, but stops and sighs when a body sidles up beside him, chin resting on his forearm.
“Are you friends with other TAs?”
“A few,” Jongdae acknowledges, struggling to write in the next answer with a head on his arm. He gives up with a loud sigh, directing all his attention towards Jongin. “Why do you ask?”
“A friend of mine is in Introduction to Poetry,” Jongin mumbles, stopping to yawn, “she was really excited because the guy teaching her class was cute, but apparently it’s a mess. He gives crazy assignments and just didn’t show up one day?” Jongin’s eyebrows scrunch together. “He sounds like a fucking trainwreck. Anyway, you know him?”
Jongdae has to bow his head and muffle his laughter before he can speak. “N-no,” he manages, “Can’t say I do.” The quiet resumes and Jongdae hesitantly plays with the tufts of hair on the back of Jongin’s neck, encouraged by a low hum. Jongin pipes up every now and then, asking Jongdae about his classes and then talking about his own, and it’s easy.
Jongdae stops to check the time and groans. “I need to get to the class early.” He waits until Jongin pulls himself up, stretching his arms above his head, before he stands. “I’ll see you there?” He kicks himself for sounding like a lovesick teenager. It’s because he’s tired.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jongin mutters noncommittally, shielding his face with a textbook.
Jongdae nods to no one and makes his way to the classroom, quickly scribbling in the rest of the answers as soon as he reaches the desk. When he stands to start the class, there’s a blond sitting in the back of the room, but no brunet. Jongdae squashes down his disappointment without mercy and starts the lesson.
Halfway through, the door opens and an exhausted boy stumbles in.
“Kim Jongin,” Jongdae greets with a smile that comes too naturally to be forced, “how nice of you to join us.”
The grunt he receives is so automatic that Jongdae chuckles. How cute. He continues with his lesson, but his eyes keep drifting to the back of the class, where Oh Sehun is trying and failing to keep his roommate awake.
He makes for the TA lounge as soon as his class is over, because although he made it through his first class without issue, he doesn’t think he’ll be ask lucky later on in the day. He guards the coffee machine with his entire body, painstakingly brewing a cup of pure caffeine, adding five packets of sugar, then he makes the mistake of leaving his station to grab a napkin. When he turns back, Luhan’s gulping down his magic potion.
“Hey, Luhan,” he calls, attempting to quell his anger.
The man hums. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Someone told me about your class.”
Luhan’s eyes widen in genuine interest. “Bet they said it was kickass, right?” He takes another sip from Jongdae’s mug.
“They said my class was better.”
Jongdae takes a little satisfaction from the way Luhan spits coffee across the room, looking offended beyond reason. He thinks it might be enough to keep him awake for the rest of the day.
( next)
Warning: a bit of dubcon/noncon
Jongdae wakes up in between two freshmen and it goes downhill from there. ( prompt)
“This is our last free night,” Baekhyun muses, sprawled out on their futon.
Jongdae groans. “Don’t remind me.” He has planning to do, people to call, and it’s already well past nine so all of that will have to wait until tomorrow anyway. He’s been lounging around their apartment all day, bored out of his mind. He doesn't even want to think of all the things he has to do tomorrow. A perky ding from Baekhyun’s phone pulls him from his musings. He picks his head up off the floor and stares at Baekhyun, who is now donning a smile. “What? Who is it?”
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun chirps, sitting up, “And it looks like someone’s throwing a huge end of summer party.”
Jongdae’s already pulling on his shoes. “Hurry up!” He yells at Baekhyun, who merely laughs and takes his time throwing on a light jacket-so that someone can tear it off him, he explains, and Jongdae gags-and pulls on his shoes. They pile into Jongdae’s crappy sedan and they’re off, Baekhyun shouting directions while Jongdae blasts overplayed pop music.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Jongdae asks with a slight smirk, parking on the grass in front of a house that’s overflowing with people. He can already feel the bass through the frame of his car.
Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Shut up. I need to get drunk. Hopefully, I won’t have to see your face until sometime tomorrow afternoon.” He bids his goodbye cheerfully, slamming the door shut with finality. Jongdae echoes his hopes and locks his car, noting that he’s close enough to campus to pick it up tomorrow. Tonight maybe he’ll get to sleep in someone else’s apartment.
Even before he enters, Jongdae grabs an offered bottle of cheap beer and grins. Tonight looks promising already.
It’s crowded inside with people wall to wall. He travels from one room to another, accepting red solo cups filled with indistinguishable alcohol-he thanks the heavens for his high tolerance-and notes with happiness the gazes he's receiving from guys and girls alike that undress him down to nothing.
The music gets louder and Jongdae grows bolder, chatting idly with new faces and even making out with a few. He doesn’t recognize anyone until he notices a girl from an advanced calculus class he had in the spring and sees the recognition mirrored on her face. They make out in the stairway for a while, until he sees a lone man stealing glances at them from the top of the stairs and reluctantly pulls away-he and she had some hook ups after study sessions, and he was hoping for another-pointing at the man when she gives him a questioning glance. Her face lights up-his glances were obviously for her-and she gives him one last open-mouthed kiss before pulling away.
Jongdae sucks face with two more strangers before he happens upon Chanyeol, who’s parked in the backyard with a small guy on his lap, arms holding him close.
“Thanks for the invite,” Jongdae mumbles between sips of something orange and delightfully sweet.
“I knew you would be hanging around in your sad little apartment if I didn’t,” Chanyeol says with a grin. The man in his lap looks out of place, and Chanyeol quickly realizes his discomfort and works to dispel it, because that’s what Chanyeol does. “Jongdae, this is Minseok. He’s going to be a senior.”
Jongdae grins. “Hey, congrats at making it out of undergrad hell! Have you decided if you’re going to go on to grad school, yet?”
Chanyeol looks like he’s holding back laughter. Jongdae shoots him a look. “He’s going to be graduating with a masters,” he reiterates. Minseok nods in agreement, an impish smile on his face.
Minseok is very nice, but Jongdae knows a cockblock when he sees one, and he's blocking some cock right now, so he bids adieu shortly after the introduction and rolls his eyes at Chanyeol’s triumphant fist-punch.
Jongdae dives back into the fray, noting with glee the grinding that has begun in his absence. He snatches up a jello shot and downs it before squeezing between two writhing bodies that gladly welcome him in.
It’s between a trip into the kitchen to get more time with a tall guy with a defined chest and sloppy but insistent kisses, and a drink offered by a shouting girl that the edges of Jongdae’s vision start to go fuzzy. Joonmyun’s lecture from the last time he had a particularly awful hangover plays in his head like a broken record but quickly fades into nothing when a body presses up against Jongdae. He accepts the attention greedily, leaning up to connect their lips. The last thing he notes is the impressive height of his new partner before losing himself in the pounding bass and the warm hands cupping his ass through his jeans.
Jongdae wakes with a start, eyes flying open and then closing again. His head is pounding and he can’t remember how he got home. He tries to lift a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight pouring over his face but finds himself unable to do so. He frowns, opening his eyes again and blinking until things come into focus and he can clearly see the issue. He can’t raise his arm because there is another on top of it.
The second thing that Jongdae notices is that he wasn’t sleeping on a very stiff pillow, he’s sleeping on a person. Jongdae jerks up and freezes when he disturbs the sleeping man, but relaxes when he simply throws his arm over his face and goes back to sleep. Now, Jongdae takes a moment to assess the situation.
His legs are tangled with two other pairs. He has a blond boy on his left and a brunet on his right. He would be pleased with his conquest if not for the fact that god, they’re naked. All three of them. A blanket is strewn on the floor and Jongdae had only been warm before because the brunet had been hugging him to his chest and the blond was against his back. Jongdae struggles to extract himself and from the two bodies, rolling off the twin-sized bed. He hits the ground on his back with a low thump, wincing when it prompts a dull pain to make itself clear.
Jongdae stands and nearly shouts in frustration. He can’t remember anything from last night, least of all these two. Jongdae stills. God. Two. He’d slept with two guys. Because one stranger hadn’t been enough. He takes a step back and notices with horror the dried cum on the inside of his thigh. Well that settles it.
The blond on the bed stirs and Jongdae jumps into action despite his aching head, back, and everything else. He gathers his clothes with speed and precision-why one shoe is on top of a duct tape-littered laptop and the other is under a leather jacket is beyond him-and waits until he’s behind the closed door to the room before putting it all back on. Nothing smells like throw up, thank the heavens. He catches a bespeckled teen watching him from behind a cracked door across the hall and flips him off, still scowling even after the boy has closed his door.
Jongdae notes the room number (twenty-seventeen) and high-tails it out of there, practically running down the stairs and outside. With unhidden alarm, he sees that the dorm is one for undergraduates, but doesn’t have time to think any more of it because he has no idea what time it is and he’s supposed to teach a class today. His phone is still in his pocket thanks to some benevolent force and Jongdae takes it out only to scowl.
The battery is dead.
He practically runs to the TA lounge-that’s not its actual name but its actual name is stupid so-and practically melts into a puddle of pleased goo when he sees that, among others, Baekhyun is inside. He runs over and throws himself onto his friend.
“Jongdae-you’re wearing the same clothes as last night, ew, get off,” Baekhyun complains, trying to push him away but Jongdae sticks firmly to his front, leaning back only to settle himself on Baekhyun’s lap and note that unlike himself, Baekhyun had a chance to shower and change clothes. His eyes widen in disbelief.
“I came back to the apartment after you went AWOL. My guy left this morning. So, what’s your story?” Baekhyun crosses his arms, lifting a brow.
Jongdae colors, remembering the two naked bodies, and looks away. “I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. Then he catches sight of his backpack by the leg of the chair and snatches it up with glee. Inside he finds all of his course materials and-bless-a phone charger. He thinks he might cry. He’s never been given something so beautiful.
“Don’t be dramatic. Your class starts in thirty minutes, you slob.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not enough time for a shower.”
“At least his class isn’t on the other side of campus,” Luhan whines from across the room and Jongdae is affronted until he remembers that you can’t be in the same room as Luhan and not expect him to eavesdrop on every conversation.
“You were pretty excited to be teaching Spectacular Sonnets like a month ago,” Chanyeol mutters without looking up from his phone.
Luhan narrows his eyes. “I’m teaching Introduction to Poetry.”
“Spectacular Sonnets sounds so much cooler, though,” Chanyeol whines, finally setting his phone down. “Jongdae, we’re in adjoining buildings for eight am classes, you wanna walk together?”
Jongdae nods emphatically and artfully deflects any further questions concerning last night from Baekhyun until it’s time to leave. As soon as they’re in the hall, Jongdae caves. He’s actually horrible at keeping secrets and he’s been feeling like he was going to burst since he first realized his situation.
“I woke up in an underclassmen dorm, Chanyeol,” he cries, not caring about volume. His anguish has been unleashed. “Underclassmen,” he repeats, clawing at his face as they head outside. He’ll keep the two guys thing a secret. He doesn’t need anyone to know that bit.
“Maybe he was an RA?” Chanyeol suggests helpfully. “I don’t know why you’re tearing yourself up about this. This place is huge. I barely see you, no way are you ever going to see this guy again, man.” He looks at Jongdae sympathetically and then bites his lip, pointing vaguely to his neck. Jongdae touches his neck and feels a dull pain. Hickies. He tugs the collar of his shirt up and flushes. “So, what class are you teaching?”
Jongdae reluctantly drops his collar and answers, “Linear Algebra. It’s the first of a series so it’ll just be freshmen.”
“Fun,” Chanyeol supplies with a wide grin. “I’ve got a 100-level bio class. I looked over the labs and they’re ah-maze-ing.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Nerd.”
They split at the staircase inside the math building and Jongdae goes up two levels, locating and unlocking his room. It’s small-he only has a class of twenty-something-but the whiteboard is clean and he’d been informed that each desk was equipped with a working computer. He sets himself up at the teacher’s desk at the front, plugging in his phone and jotting down his name and important details about the class on the whiteboard as the early students start coming in. He allows a twenty minute grace period since it’s the first day of classes before turning and starting the lesson.
His heart leaps into his throat and his hands clench on the edge of the desk. In the back of the class, two boys are sitting next to each other, one blond and the other a brunet. Jongdae notes wryly that they look even better when dressed and that the brown-haired boy looks exhausted. He locks gazes with the blond and thinks he sees a flash of recognition. He tears his eyes away and focuses on an excited girl in the front row before launching into his lesson.
He slept with fucking freshmen. Two. Two fucking freshmen that just happen to be in one of the two classes he’s the TA for this fall. He thinks its some sort of cosmic joke. Baekhyun would love it. He’d make fun of him for years. Jongdae would never live it down, it would be That One Time He Sort Of Had A Threesome Maybe… he doesn’t really know. Maybe it was just cuddling. Naked. Yeah.
Surprisingly-thankfully-neither boy talks to him. Even during class, they’re always either dozing (Jongdae can’t blame them, if he could choose he’d be back home sleeping, too) or not paying attention. Jongdae is relieved. Maybe he’ll be able to forget the whole thing.
Except sometimes, late at night, he remembers how he had been pressed between the two of them and he wonders what it was like, how they made it work on the tiny bed. If they even made it to the bed. He thinks of all the possibilities, and then has to sneak a hand into his boxers and muffles his moans with his arm as he comes into his hand.
One day, while grading papers, he pauses and looks over the roster he’d made to fit a seating chart, because it’d become pretty much regular after the third week. There, in the back, he has Oh Sehun and Kim Jongin. He drops everything he’s doing and calls Yixing, a friend who works in housing and who owes him a favor. He finds out that they’re roommates in room numbed twenty-seventeen, and after a little more urging, that they’re both undecided majors and over eighteen (thank god).
Other than that, he doesn’t do much more to find more about them and stays stubbornly silent against Baekhyun’s whiny urging to tell him what happened that night.
Nothing big happens until a week before midterms.
His students are filing out of the room and Jongdae begins putting his things away when someone stops in front of his desk. He looks up, polite smile at the ready. The smile slides off his face when he sees who it is, and slowly returns to loading the papers into his backpack. The brunet stands patiently on the other side of his desk. Kim Jongin, his brain supplies.
“I have a question,” the boy starts.
Jongdae nods, mentally reprimanding himself. He’s supposed to be a figure of authority, dammit. “Did you check the syllabus first?”
“I doubt the syllabus would help me,” the boy says wryly, leaning onto the desk. “I was wondering why you left so suddenly. You didn’t even leave a number.”
“I’m sorry?”
Kim Jongin sighs. “I wasn’t sure it was you at first. But Sehun was positive-he thought you’d make the first move, too. But I knew we’d have to do something.” He languidly makes his way over to the door and Jongdae hurriedly packs away the last of his things, head snapping up when he hears a click and the rustling of the shutters falling over the window in the door. He barely has time to blink before Kim Jongin is back in front of him, pushing him against his desk so that the edge digs into his back and he has to look up slightly to meet deep brown, calculating eyes.
And then he’s being kissed, soft and chaste until a tongue pokes at his lips and he parts them with a low sigh, hands coming up to fist in Kim Jongin’s soft tee. It’s all well and good, warm hands ghosting up his sides, until the boy presses closer and Jongdae can feel the bulge pushing against his own hardening length.
His eyes fly open-when had he closed them?-and he tries to pull away, only to earn a none too gentle bite on his lip. He whines and then groans as nimble fingers undo the front of his jeans and push them slightly down, two hands dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to pull out his dick. Jongdae moans into the open mouth as a hand strokes him to full hardness, then smears precum over the tip before tugging him at a maddeningly slow pace. Between that and the hand smoothing over his covered ass, Jongdae’s soon panting, demanding sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he nears his climax.
He opens his eyes just before it hits him, catches Kim Jongin’s forehead furrowed in concentration and lips swollen and wet. His chest seizes and he thrusts into the loose grip, coming with a cry that’s quickly muted by insistent lips. The hand strokes him through his orgasm, until Jongdae is whining and pushing the arm away. The hand reluctantly leaves him, wiping translucent white onto his boxers as Jongdae leans on the table for support.
Kim Jongin tucks him back in and zips up his pants methodically, leaving one last kiss on the jaw a very shocked Jongdae.
“If you’d thought of us as just a one night stand, I’d like to ask you to reconsider,” Jongin murmurs, voice breathy and eyes searching. Then he turns and walks out of the room.
Jongdae collapses into his chair and wonders what the hell just happened.
He gets to the TA lounge early after angsting the whole night, wriggling onto the couch beside Chanyeol because Baekhyun’s taking his time today, had still been in the shower when Jongdae left. “My friend has a problem,” he says, voice just above a whisper.
Chanyeol hums to show he’s paying attention.
“He got really drunk at this party, stuff happened, and he woke up next to two guys.” Chanyeol’s jaw drops and he meets Jongdae’s eyes. Somewhere in the room, a pen hits the floor. “So my friend,” he emphasizes, “teaches this freshman music course.” A guy at the back of the room shouts, It’s not me, when someone next to him asks. “The guys are in this class and he kind of thought it would be a one night stand but maybe one of the guys gave him a really good handjob yesterday after class and what is he supposed to do?”
Chanyeol nods sagely, unfazed. “Maybe your friend needs to be a little more open-minded. He doesn’t know if a relationship would necessarily be a bad thing, right? So why not just try it out?”
Jongdae nods slowly. Maybe he should reconsider, like Kim Jongin had said.
“Your friend has problems,” Luhan announces, seated on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Chanyeol, you need to stay away from Kim Minseok. He is claimed already. I mean… not that I’ve asked him out yet. But I’m going to and you need to back off!” He finishes angrily.
“That sounds like a challenge,” Chanyeol says with a grin. Luhan screams his disagreement and Jongdae takes that as his cue to leave.
He doesn’t really have time to see where things can go with the freshmen, though, because he has midterms to grade and his own assignments to worry about, and obviously the two boys are facing the same problems, because neither makes a move until well into autumn, when there’s four weeks of class left.
Jongdae’s grading papers at his desk, students long gone, when he finds my room, 7pm scrawled at the bottom of a homework assignment. He looks up to check the name and his breath catches in his throat. Oh Sehun. He packs up and makes his way over to the library as fast as he can.
It’s Baekhyun's favorite place to hide and predictably, the man is there, sitting in the way back in a lounge chair. It’s only him and a girl back here, but she’s taking a nap in the corner so Jongdae hops onto Baekhyun’s lap without issue.
“What-” the man begins, but then Jongdae takes out the assignment and shows him the note at the bottom.
“Are you trying to ask me if I think you should get laid tonight?” Baekhyun asks, bringing the note close to analyze it.
Jongdae nods.
Baekhyun laughs. “You know what my answer is.” He checks the clock and swears. “I’ve got a class I’m late for,” he says, pushing Jongdae off his lap. “When you get home I want you to tell me everything.” Halfway to the door, he screws up his face and stops. “Nevermind. Don’t tell me everything.”
Jongdae’s last class ends at four, so he grabs something to eat and tries to make headway in a project before making his way across campus at ten till seven, towards the underclassmen dorms, decision made. He heads up the stairs slowly, second-guessing himself in his mind the whole way. When he reaches the door he stops to take a breath, then knocks.
The door opens and a blond head pokes out. A small, tired smile works its way onto the boy’s face. “You came!”
Jongdae tries to voice a reply but fails when he sees that Oh Sehun is not wearing a shirt. He lets himself be ushered inside, and looks at everything but the boy, noting that the room is about the same. A little messier, but everything is the same as he remembers from that morning. There’s the twin bed beneath the window and another neatly made one pushed against the wall. He shakes off the feeling of familiarity. All these rooms look the same. He turns to ask Oh Sehun why he was invited here, but as soon as he turns, a body slams up against him, lips quickly and efficiently working his own open and a tongue joins the mix. Oh Sehun kisses differently than his roommate. Kim Jongin kissed like he was trying to prove something. Oh Sehun kisses like he’s already proven everything he needs.
Jongdae’s backpack is thrown to the ground and shortly after his shirt joins it, easily peeled off of him by Oh Sehun’s deft hands, their lips parting only for a moment. Those hands immediately splay over his chest and Jongdae exhales in a short breath, angling his head so that Oh Sehun is licking right into his open mouth. They move slowly, in no rush, and then the back of Jongdae’s knees hit the bed and he tips backwards when the taller boy-Jongdae grudgingly admits that he’s a little shorter than the kid-gives him a small push.
Oh Sehun immediately attaches his lips to Jongdae’s stomach, giving small, bruising kisses as he makes quick work of Jongdae’s jeans. He makes a small, appreciative noise when he has the pants around Jongdae’s ankles, the bulge in his boxers now visible. Jongdae’s head is swimming, but he kicks his shoes off and works his pants the rest of the way down his legs as Oh Sehun gets on the bed and straddles his waist, looking down at him with unreadable eyes.
Jongdae’s embarrassed to find that he’s already out of breath. “Oh Sehun,” he starts, but the boy cuts him off.
“You’re not teaching a class right now, Jongdae,” the boy murmurs, and the way he says his name has goosebumps prickling on Jongdae’s exposed skin, “call me Sehun.”
“Sehun,” Jongdae tries, and earns a quick kiss for his efforts. “Where is-”
Sehun interrupts yet again. “Jongin is at dance team practice. We have an hour until he gets back.” He leans forward and whispers right into Jongdae’s ear, “I didn’t tell him that I asked you to come here.”
Jongdae’s eyes fall shut and he lets out a shuddering breath. To be very honest, he’s extremely upset that he doesn’t remember anything about what happened that night. He’s so engrossed in trying to guess the details that he doesn’t realize Sehun’s moved to kneel between his thighs until his boxers are being peeled away with his pants and thrown with the rest of his clothes. He looks down and has to bite back a groan. Sehun’s looking up at him, lips hovering just above his erect dick. Before either can say anything, Sehun bows his head and presses a chaste kiss to the tip of his member and Jongdae groans, head falling back on the pillow.
Sehun gives head like he kisses; like he has all the time in the world, swallowing around Jongdae and engulfing all that he can, his hand taking care of the rest. Then he pulls back and licks his lips, saliva and precum smearing on his chin. He brings Jongdae to the edge and then pulls him over with a gentle tug coupled with an audible suck, and the air rushes out of Jongdae as he comes into Sehun’s mouth, the boy leaning back as he swallows all of it, eyes locking with Jongdae’s. The older covers his face with his hands and moans.
“Jongdae,” Sehun starts, voice wrecked but clear, “I want to do it again. Sober, this time.”
And though Jongdae doesn't remember anything, so wouldn't be trying anything again, he disagrees. He thinks he’s in need of a lot more alcohol right about now. He scoffs, “So you didn’t bring me here just to suck me off?” Sehun doesn’t budge, watching him closely. Jongdae sighs, realizing that the boy is waiting for an answer. He sighs. Fuck it. “I don’t just let anyone fuck me,” he says, getting comfortable, “so you’d better show me that you’re worth it.”
Sehun nods seriously, like Jongdae’s just given him a mission. He straddles Jongdae’s waist again and leans over him to grab something from the bedside table, returning with a bottle of lube and a condom. He moves to kneel between Jongdae’s thighs, leaving the bottle on the bed for a moment so that he can pull Jongdae’s legs up and sling them over his shoulders. Jongdae hears the snap of the bottle opening and then nothing. He looks up and Sehun’s staring at him, waiting for something. Jongdae releases a breath and nods at him to continue, body seizing when a slick finger sneaks past his entrance. It’s joined by a second, and then a third. They crook and push further in, searching for something and Jongdae cries out when they find it. He thinks he catches a pleased grin on Sehun’s face as the boy continues to assault his prostate, Jongdae’s breaths short and quick. The fingers leave him and Jongdae moans, clenching on air. He hears the condom packet being ripped open, and assumes the silence that follows is Sehun pulling it on.
Sehun enters him with a quick thrust, and they moan together. Jongdae clenches his teeth. Sehun’s not thick, but he’s longer than a lot of guys Jongdae has been with, so he grunts out an order to move, before he starts to regret, and Sehun does.
Sehun fucks into him with slow, controlled movements, and it’s absolutely maddening. Jongdae hates it, clawing at Sehun’s back to show his dissatisfaction. Sehun grunts and quickens the pace, reducing Jongdae to a mess as he hits that spot with every other thrust. Sehun reaches between them to grab Jongdae’s dick and strokes him in time with his thrusts, which gradually become erratic and uncontrolled, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Jongdae comes with a cry of Sehun’s name, vision going white. The boy falls forward, holding himself up with hands bracketing Jongdae’s head. He leans his forehead against Jongdae’s, their breaths mixing, and then when he comes with a hard thrust, Sehun searches for Jongdae’s lips hungrily, offering messy open-mouthed kisses before pulling out.
Jongdae is focusing on catching his breath, so he doesn't move when Sehun lays down beside him, both of them on their side in order to fit on the bed. Sehun throws an arm over his waist and Jongdae breathes in, humming contentedly. Sehun smells like sweat and cum, but Jongdae supposes he does, too, so he doesn’t object when Sehun wiggles closer and buries his face in Jongdae’s hair.
“Jongin was right,” he murmurs, “you’re more responsive when you’re not shitfaced.”
Jongdae stiffens at the reminder and pulls himself out of the bed, ignoring Sehun’s whining. He quickly pulls on all of his clothes, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sehun slowly sits up and disposes of his condom in a trash can by the bed. Jongdae wonders stuff like this happens so often that the trash had been moved closer to the bed.
With all of his clothes hastily put back on and backpack slung over one shoulder, Jongdae shifts from foot to foot. How is he supposed to leave? Does he kiss Sehun goodbye? Do they hug? How does one leave after… whatever that was?
“You know,” Sehun begins, tracing patterns in the mattress cover, “Jongin will be back soon.” He sounds almost hopeful.
Jongdae nods. “Yeah, that’s why I’m leaving now.” He ignores the way the boy’s shoulders slump and quickly heads for the door. He decided that a wave is more than enough, throwing a casual, "Bye," over his shoulder before the door closes behind him.
He sprints down the stairs, thankfully not running into any tall brunets on the way, and doesn't stop for a second until he's within the safety of his car.
Baekhyun's waiting for him in the kitchen when he gets home. "So," he prompts, setting aside his textbook so that Jongdae has all of his attention, "how was it?"
"I've had better," Jongdae admits, kicking his shoes off in the foyer and dumping his backpack by the dining room table.
"But?" Baekhyun asks, lifting a brow.
"But I feel like jelly," Jongdae groans, falling face-first onto the couch.
Baekhyun laughs.
Jongdae wonders if there's a label for this. Friends with benefits seems too intimate, and fuck buddies implies some sort of routine or at least regular meet-ups, so Jongdae gives up. He supposes that there was never a need for a label to fit his situation, because he doubts it ever happens. But Jongdae's lucky like that.
As the work piles up, he tries to take his mind off of relationship issues and focus on academics. His scholarship requires him to keep a 3.0 GPA, and if he starts this semester off on the wrong foot, he'll have to fight all through spring semester to keep his grades in check.
He starts living in the library, heading there whenever he isn't teaching, eating, or sleeping, because all he wants to do when he's home alone is stick a hand down his pants and remember the way Sehun's lips looked around his dick, so instead he stays in the library. There, he can stay focused and actually work.
He's in the middle of researching, at least ten books piled in front of him with the pages he needs to read noted with post-its, when he hears a noise of surprise. He looks up and stares, stomach churning.
Kim Jongin is standing in between two bookshelves, staring right back.
He takes a step forward and Jongdae springs into action, stacking the books into manageable piles and about to stand and leave before the boy can make it over to him.
"Wait."
Jongdae stills and looks up, two books still in hand and the rest on the desk in front of him.
"I'm sorry," the boy says, looking sincere. "I was looking for a place to crash. I can go somewhere else, you don't have to move."
"No, it's fine," Jongdae says before he can think better of it. He's the only one at this desk and there's five empty chairs. Any other desks are probably taken by study groups or hoardes of books. He can spare the space, especially if the kid is just going to sleep. "There's room here."
With surprising enthusiasm, Jongin thanks him loud enough to earn a shush, had they been on the main floor. He throws his backpack onto one of the chairs and seats himself in another, right next to Jongdae.
Going back to his research, Jongdae spares himself a moment to roll his eyes. Out of all the chairs available, of course the kid would sit next to him. Thankfully, the boy doesn't speak and Jongdae completely forgets he’s even there until something falls onto his shoulder. He looks down his nose and sees a mop of brown hair. He holds back a laugh and tussles the hair with his hand. The kid’s out cold.
Jongdae actually gets a lot done. He’s marked down passages from each book and is in the middle of organizing his thoughts when Jongin sits up. Jongdae quickly checks the time on his phone and frowns. It’s been three hours, which means he’s going to be exhausted for the rest of the day. He turns to Jongin, who’s rubbing his eyes, and almost coos. How cute.
“M’sorry,” Jongin mumbles, eyes still bleary, “didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
Jongdae waves him off, adding another point to his list before he forgets it. “Not a problem. You’ve only got a couple hours until class, though.” He sets his books aside and watches as Jongin scrunches his face up. The kid even made little snuffling sounds in his sleep, Jongdae remembers with a smile. He thinks he might have drool on his shoulder but he doesn’t really care. He’s not a fan of this shirt, anyway.
Jongin sighs. “There’s no point in going back to sleep,” he mumbles, but lays his head down on the table, using his arm as a pillow.
“Suit yourself,” Jongdae chirps, pulling out all the worksheets he’ll be using in classes today. He needs to make sure that there are enough copies, and he forgot to make an answer key. The TA lounge has a coffee maker, he’ll just drink ten cups in rapid succession before dragging himself to class. No problem. He starts writing in the steps to answer the first question, but stops and sighs when a body sidles up beside him, chin resting on his forearm.
“Are you friends with other TAs?”
“A few,” Jongdae acknowledges, struggling to write in the next answer with a head on his arm. He gives up with a loud sigh, directing all his attention towards Jongin. “Why do you ask?”
“A friend of mine is in Introduction to Poetry,” Jongin mumbles, stopping to yawn, “she was really excited because the guy teaching her class was cute, but apparently it’s a mess. He gives crazy assignments and just didn’t show up one day?” Jongin’s eyebrows scrunch together. “He sounds like a fucking trainwreck. Anyway, you know him?”
Jongdae has to bow his head and muffle his laughter before he can speak. “N-no,” he manages, “Can’t say I do.” The quiet resumes and Jongdae hesitantly plays with the tufts of hair on the back of Jongin’s neck, encouraged by a low hum. Jongin pipes up every now and then, asking Jongdae about his classes and then talking about his own, and it’s easy.
Jongdae stops to check the time and groans. “I need to get to the class early.” He waits until Jongin pulls himself up, stretching his arms above his head, before he stands. “I’ll see you there?” He kicks himself for sounding like a lovesick teenager. It’s because he’s tired.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jongin mutters noncommittally, shielding his face with a textbook.
Jongdae nods to no one and makes his way to the classroom, quickly scribbling in the rest of the answers as soon as he reaches the desk. When he stands to start the class, there’s a blond sitting in the back of the room, but no brunet. Jongdae squashes down his disappointment without mercy and starts the lesson.
Halfway through, the door opens and an exhausted boy stumbles in.
“Kim Jongin,” Jongdae greets with a smile that comes too naturally to be forced, “how nice of you to join us.”
The grunt he receives is so automatic that Jongdae chuckles. How cute. He continues with his lesson, but his eyes keep drifting to the back of the class, where Oh Sehun is trying and failing to keep his roommate awake.
He makes for the TA lounge as soon as his class is over, because although he made it through his first class without issue, he doesn’t think he’ll be ask lucky later on in the day. He guards the coffee machine with his entire body, painstakingly brewing a cup of pure caffeine, adding five packets of sugar, then he makes the mistake of leaving his station to grab a napkin. When he turns back, Luhan’s gulping down his magic potion.
“Hey, Luhan,” he calls, attempting to quell his anger.
The man hums. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Someone told me about your class.”
Luhan’s eyes widen in genuine interest. “Bet they said it was kickass, right?” He takes another sip from Jongdae’s mug.
“They said my class was better.”
Jongdae takes a little satisfaction from the way Luhan spits coffee across the room, looking offended beyond reason. He thinks it might be enough to keep him awake for the rest of the day.
( next)