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Minho doesn’t understand why Seungmin’s being such a dick to him.

 

He thought they had a pretty good moment together, personally, but Seungmin refused to talk to him for the rest of the tournament. Technically, he’d had to speak to him during the semi-finals round, but that doesn’t count.

 

And he definitely didn’t talk to Minho after he and Changbin won that round, going on to win the tournament in Public Forum.

 

They’re good debaters, and, if he’s being honest, he was at least a little distracted remembering their rendezvous from the previous day. He’s surprised they pulled out the win with him feeling so off balance watching Seungmin act like it never even happened.

 

He couldn’t even be all that happy they won.

 

It wasn’t fair at all.

 

It’s not fair that, for the past two and a half months, Minho’s been haunted by smiling eyes, crinkled unevenly, and little moles just off-set from pretty lips. Or how those lips felt on his skin… long fingers digging into his hips, pressing inside him, wrapped around his dick…

 

It’s not fair.

 

Minho is finally ready to admit to himself that he wants more… and it’s a good thing that he tends to get what he wants.

 

Admittedly, though, Seungmin seems pretty certain that he isn’t going to be had.

 

It was hard to reconcile the adorable, sharp-witted, and even sharper tongued debater with the man that’d fucked him over a bathroom sink like some desperate whore just minutes before Parli prep, but it was even harder to connect those two with the cold boy that’d been rejecting his every attempt at contact since the tournament.

 

It wasn’t easy to convince Changbin to convince Jisung to give him Seungmin’s number. That took weeks of begging and sucking up to his partner, dodging questions he wasn’t exactly ready to answer honestly, but the only response he’d ever gotten from the younger boy was a chilly “how did you get this number?”.

 

God, Minho’s fucked.

 

He’d been interested in the boy since he’d met him at the start of his third year, which was humiliating. Minho doesn’t mess around with underclassmen, okay? Much less freshmen, but there was just something crazy attractive about how this cute boy could do such a one-eighty in round.

 

He could still remember their first debate, how he’d scribbled a note to Changbin before round that had just said “speechies”. He’d been so certain the bubbly, over-polite boy was some poor speech kid that had gotten thrown into a debate event for extra team points. It had still been a fairly easy win for them, but there was no denying that the kids were good and could prove to be real competition going forward. That definitely wasn’t their first time debating.

 

Seungmin’s jaw clenching, his eyes flashing, composure threatening to break, as Changbin had grilled him in cross-ex; it totally captivated him. Who could blame him if he resorted to some pigtail pulling tactics after that?

 

Seungmin was hot when he was mad and Minho just knew, from that moment on, that he had to see him lose control.

 

If his… feelings… for the younger boy matured a bit since then, well, that’s Minho’s business. Maybe it was just trying to get the boy to reveal his darker side, at first, but Minho can’t change the fact that just about everything about Seungmin’s grown to captivate him. His adorable eye smile, the slight nasally quality to his voice, the proper way he tends to speak, his cute laugh when he’s joking around with his team… Minho’s fucked.

 

He wants Seungmin... or, at least, he wants to get to know him better.

 

Nothing about Seungmin was easy, though.

 

He wasn’t an easy opponent in round, wasn’t easy to talk to, and certainly wasn’t easy to pursue.

 

He’d tried to drop hints, flirt with the younger boy, but obviously he’d been too subtle. Or maybe Seungmin just wasn’t interested.

 

But, if he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have fucked him... right?

 

It really should have gotten easier after they fucked.

 

Minho’s still shocked that worked.

 

He thought for sure that he was crossing like ten lines and Seungmin would be disgusted by him, but then he fucking kissed back.

 

God, it was such a good memory. He really hadn’t been planning to fuck Seungmin, but… he kissed back. He’d already gotten that far, might as well go for gold.

 

It was supposed to be simple after that little icebreaker, but of course Seungmin wouldn’t make anything easy for him.

 

It’d hurt when Seungmin straight up ignored him before their semi-final round and every time Minho sent him a text. He even sent him cute videos of Sooni, Doongi, and Dori… what more could Seungmin want?

 

His pride was bruised, for one thing, and he also… just doesn’t get why Seungmin wouldn’t talk to him after that. Sure, he couldn’t exactly demonstrate just how good he could be in bed bent over a sink and late to Parli draw, but he’d thought it was good. Better than good, actually, it was fucking hot, and Seungmin had seemed really into it. The way he slapped his ass and called him dirty names, but also took his time prepping him and made sure he got off… it was good. When the younger left, Minho had thought it was just part of their little “we hate each other because we’re rival debaters” game.

 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Seungmin wasn’t into it and maybe he actually does hate Minho, but… why? He’s pretty sure he hasn’t actually been mean to him. Yeah, he likes to rile him up, but it’s not malicious or anything; he was just teasing. And, okay, maybe he comes across as cold sometimes, but it’s a defense mechanism. What’s he supposed to do when he spends most of his time thinking about the other boy trying to figure out a way to ask him out without sounding either super lame or super creepy?

 

It’s all the more frustrating that Minho can’t seem to just let it go. He likes Seungmin. He doesn’t exactly know why or how, but the kid’s buried himself so far under his skin; he doesn’t know how to just… give up.

 

At the very least, Seungmin’s a dick if he thinks he can just fuck Lee Minho and then pretend like he doesn’t exist.

 

It doesn’t work that way.

 

It sucks that this little conundrum is all he can think about during the ten-hour bus ride to nationals while Changbin’s snoring on his shoulder, but it’ll be the first time they’ve seen each other since the incident and its less than positive aftermath. Minho’s going to get Seungmin to at least talk to him, he has to. He’s going to go fucking insane over this kid if he doesn’t.

 

 

oOo

 

 

Nothing’s ever easy with Seungmin.

 

It’s the second day of the tournament before Minho even catches a glimpse of the younger man, walking with his Duo and Parli partner to round.

 

He literally stops dead in the middle of the walkway, just… staring at him.

 

Like a fucking idiot.

 

Some girl almost runs into him, giving him a weird look, and Changbin’s an entire five steps ahead of him before he realizes Minho isn’t beside him anymore.

 

“Min?! Jesus Christ, we have three minutes and I don’t know where this fucking building is, hurry your ass up!”

 

They’re an entire minute and thirty seconds late to their round, all but bursting through the door, chests heaving. The judge, the real MVP, politely informs them that she gives a two minute grace period despite the frustrated looks their competitors shoot across the room, just saving them from getting disqualified.

 

They totally crush that round.

 

It’s Minho’s senior year and he really can’t afford to be distracted. Thankfully, he and Changbin are doing well in both their events, and he’s feeling good about the speech events he’s prepared for, too; their team might actually have a shot at winning a sweepstakes award this year now that recruitment’s up, so he has to play his part. Plus, this is his last tournament, and he wants to make the most of it.

 

It’d sure be great if he wasn’t so obsessed with some sophomore that doesn’t seem to want anything to do with him.

 

 

oOo

 

 

He doesn’t see Seungmin again until the third day.

 

He almost choked on his water when Felix shows him the list of teams that will be in their Duo round, Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin at the top of the page.

 

Felix is the one person on this planet that knows everything about his thing with Seungmin. He needed someone to vent to, and the two of them had actually gotten really close preparing their Duo program. It’s probably stupid, especially because Felix knows Seungmin well enough from speech, but he hadn’t felt like he could tell Changbin about what had happened or even the full extent of his confused… crush… on their younger rival.

 

Felix had actually been really understanding, but, then again, everyone knew about his probably hopeless crush on their new assistant debate coach, Chan; if anyone was going to get what Minho’s going through, it’s going to be Felix.

 

It was still odd to sit on the younger boy’s twin bed as he gave him weirdly poignant advice, their unfinished program books and bits of cut out paper scattered around them, forgotten, and Felix’s roommate just a few feet away, trying to ignore them while he played some first-person shooter video game.

 

Felix was smarter than most people – Minho included – gave him credit for.

 

To be fair, their whole Duo program was a joke. Felix had the idea and needed someone who could help him execute it. Minho had been confused when Felix asked him of all people; he’s only done what Felix less than affectionately refers to as the “boring speech events”, after all. It made a bit more sense when things started to come together, and Minho would be lying if he said the program wasn’t fun.

 

That being said, he’s not sure he wants to perform a comedic piece about dicks and casual sex in front of Seungmin before he’s had a chance to talk to him.

 

It just seems like it really wouldn’t be the right move.

 

Nothing to be done about it, though; the round starts in fifteen minutes.

 

Felix is a good friend, giving him a pep talk on their way. Minho thinks he’s doing a good job holding himself together, but he’s internally freaking out, just a bit. Felix tries to tell him that maybe Seungmin will get the hint that Minho wants more, or at least think the piece is funny, but Minho’s just not sure…

 

Of all the things he does know about Seungmin already, “great sense of humor” isn’t exactly top of the list, but…

 

Maybe Felix is right.

 

oOo

 

Felix was wrong.

 

When they got into the room, Seungmin and his partner were already there. They’d been talking but stopped as soon as they saw Minho and Felix enter, Seungmin quickly avoiding eye contact.


Super.



And then he and Felix find out that they have to go first, right before Seungmin and Jeongin.

 

See, that shouldn’t be a big deal, but their program is weird, and Minho can only assume that Seungmin’s isn’t weird; it’s probably another duo about domestic violence or death or something… something serious.

 

To be fair, their program does provide commentary on sexual assault and the argument that men can only think with their dicks, so it’s not just stupid, but like… it’s still mostly pretty stupid.

 

God, Seungmin’s gonna misunderstand… or maybe he’ll think their program makes his and Jeongin’s look bad, or maybe he’ll realize that some parts of it are not so subtly referencing him

 

Doesn’t that kid do, like, a million speech events? How the fuck is he not double entered at Nationals?

 

The universe is fucking conspiring against him.

 

It’s a tense walk to the front of the room when their judge gives them the go ahead. Minho knows he has to play the speech-kid role, and he is, outwardly smiling to the room and their judge, even as he freaks out inside. This whole situation just isn’t fair. He can feel a bit of anxiety starting to grip at his chest and… fuck.

 

If he fucking forgets his lines of the program…

 

He’ll literally die. He’ll just die. He’ll melt into the carpet.

 

It’s already so nerve-wracking that he has to perform this piece in front of Seungmin, if he sucks at it too?

 

Nope.

 

He’ll combust. Right here. Right now.

 

Felix leans into his side as they find their positions, “Don’t even think about looking at him. No eye contact.”

 

Okay.

 

Minho can do that.

 

“When you consciously decide to send a picture of your dick to someone-“ And they’re fucking off.

 

Felix always has… like, good energy, or something. He’s a bright, happy person and he’s fucking hilarious when he’s performing this piece. As Minho’s first line comes up, he physically forces himself to relax, to block out everything besides the funny program they created together and how excited Felix will be when they pull it off.

 

If this is what fucks his possibly already nonexistent chances with Seungmin… so be it.

 

“There’s really only two reactions someone can have upon receiving a picture of a dick on their phone,” Felix finishes his lines, turning dramatically to Minho who forces the embarrassment down as he mimes scrolling through social media against his black binder. He can feel his face heating up, and it’s only partially related to the fact that Kim Seungmin is watching him embarrass himself.

 

Stop fucking thinking about Seungmin, you idiot.

 

He hits the timing perfectly; they’ve practiced this part a million times because this beginning is always flustering, but he quirks his eyebrows up, letting his jaw drop a bit, right on cue, “Oh!

 

“Or!” Felix chimes in.

 

Minho shifts his body in the silly way speech kids do to signal they’re presenting a different character, but this time he twists his face up in dramaticized disgust, reeling away from his black book like it actually sprouted a dick, “Noooo!”

 

There are a handful of startled laughs from their competitors, and Minho definitely isn’t going to look, but he feels a bit of weight leave his shoulders. He can get through this.

 

As they fly through the program, shifting between the pieces they’d chopped up and intermixed with one another, the laughter in the room grows at the objectively funny parts, and they get choruses of snaps and “ooooh”s during the social commentary parts. It’s going great.

 

Minho shifts his voice a bit higher to match his teenaged character, “The worst possible outcome if you don’t convince someone to have sex with you is you end the night masturbating, and I’m not gonna say masturbation is great-“

 

“I will! Masturbation is great!” Felix chimes in with his shrill baby-voice… the one that signifies he’s playing the role of Minho’s dick, singsonging the last word, throwing his arms wide and wiggling his hands. Despite himself, Minho almost laughs. That line always made him fuck up their practice runs.

 

He can feel himself relaxing, his confidence building, as the room erupts at Felix’s line, almost drowning the two of them out.

 

He’s completely forgotten about Seungmin.

 

“-I’m just saying, the name of the game? Plausible Deniability. Which means, if you have any distinguishing scars or tattoos-” Felix is back in his shouty starting character. Talking about dick pics.

 

Fuck, someone in this room has seen his dick.

 

Nope. Not gonna entertain that thought.

 

“-Whatever makes it easier for you to say,” Felix’s line ends, and Minho steps up, full of confidence, knowing this line always got a laugh when they practiced in front of their teammates…

 

Until he accidentally makes dead-straight eye contact with Kim Fucking Seungmin.

 

Right as he says the line, “I’m pretty sure that’s not my penis!”

 

His voice actually cracks on the word “not”, and his face lights up bright red as he wills himself to break the staring contest he’s currently trapped in with a very unamused Kim Seungmin. Felix continues with his lines, and Minho trips over his words when it comes to his part again. Fuck.

 

This next character, this poem… it’s really fucking embarrassing. Like, yeah, it’s funny… if he pulls it off, but it’s kind of almost impossible to get through the damn lines when he’s trying to pretend that one of the few people he’s had casual sex with and probably hates him even though Minho is thinking that he really, really doesn’t hate Seungmin back, at all, is sitting perfectly within his line of vision… which is harder because Felix specifically decided to put this poem in because of Minho’s Seungmin issue… and it’s not all that subtle.

 

“-That wanting to share your body, mind, soul with somebody else is something you should probably just keep to yourself until you’re happily married or at least over thirty,” Minho finishes, trying his fucking hardest not to think... about anything. He just doesn’t want to fuck up. As long as he doesn’t fuck up, everything will be okay.

 

Felix takes up the next few lines, nailing the character perfectly, of fucking course.

 

“-And there’s something about being dirty that used to make me worry, it used to make me weary, but mostly it just made me feel guilty…”

 

Don’t you fucking look at him, again, Lee Minho.

 

“Because if sex is dirty… baby, I’m filthy,” He forces the shy smile they’d practiced over and over onto his face, but he can feel it cracking under the pressure of Seungmin’s gaze, even as the room reacts with laughter and snaps.

 

Minho’s… going through it. Seungmin’s gonna misunderstand and completely hate him and think he’s making fun of him or something and that fucking sucks, but he also can’t just shut down because this program is Felix’s baby and he wants to do well with it, but doing well with it might make things worse between him and Seungmin and he’s just… wow, so overwhelmed and panicky.

 

“But there’s a lesson you learn,” Felix says knowingly, and goddammit.

 

“That when sharing yourself, there’s a chance to get hurt,” This whole sequence… Minho can’t fucking look at Seungmin. He can’t, but of course he does, and the younger man’s expression is totally blank as he and Felix switch between the lines about the scary parts of sex which seem to hit pretty fucking close to home.

 

Seungmin’s totally going to know this is about him, but he’s gonna take it the wrong way and maybe he’ll think Minho’s just saying he’s a slut or that he regrets them fucking or something he totally isn’t meaning.

 

“Which is why I think sex takes a lot of bravery,” Felix does this character so fucking well, big eyes growing wide and vulnerable, fidgeting with his book, as if he was actually worried and not just a badass actor. Minho really needs to reevaluate his opinions on speech kids. Some other time.

 

“To say,” Minho’s throat is dry, and he tries, he really does try not to look at Seungmin… but of course he is, eyes continuously darting back to his face no matter how many times he drags them away, “this is me, I’m yours, take me.”

 

He’s an idiot.

 

Okay, well, at least they’re back to dick pics.

 

“-You gotta add variety, show how the size stacks up against inanimate objects,” Felix is really a great actor. He deserves a better partner. The room is fucking dying at his sudden shift… everyone but Seungmin… even his partner is chuckling.

 

Minho takes over, it’s all muscle memory at this point. His brain has shut off, it’s a miracle he hasn’t forgotten the lines, “A remote, a Snapple bottle, a Bath and Body Works three-wick candle-“

 

“Lilac blossom if you’re classy!” Felix chimes in.

 

“Island Nectar if you’re nasty!” Minho finishes. He feels like an idiot, his brain so fucking messy.

 

It makes him kind of mad, honestly. He just wants to be able to have fun with Felix, but then Seungmin has to sit right in his line of sight and stare at him with that blank expression, totally tanking his confidence. It’s not like this whole interp thing is easy for him to begin with… aren’t speech kids supposed to be, like, sickeningly supportive of their competitors, or something? Minho could use some of that bullshit right now, but all he can think about is Seungmin.

 

And Seungmin is clearly not feeling it.

 

Fuck.

 

The rest of their program flies by in a blur of laughter and stop fucking looking at me like that, Kim Seungmin. Felix gets the last line, a repetition of Minho’s earlier, “This is me, I’m yours, take me.”

 

The whole room is rowdy and enjoying themselves as Felix and Minho return to their seats, everyone but Seungmin. The judge is smiling behind his hand as he finishes his notes on their performance, and they get a number of ‘that was awesome’s and ‘you guys were hilarious’s…

 

But Minho just keeps watching Seungmin…

 

Cause he’s hopeless.

 

And he and Seungmin are hopeless.

 

Damn.

 

Felix grabs his bag and gets permission from the judge to leave, taking Minho’s hand before he does, leaning in to whisper, “I appreciate you, you did great, I’m excited for round two, and we’re definitely going to find time to talk about the other stuff that happened, so don’t freak about it yet.”

 

And then he’s hurrying from the room, shooting a quick, reassuring smile over his shoulder.

 

He’s a good friend.

 

When Seungmin and his partner present… Minho tries to take Felix’s advice. So, he isn’t really paying attention, honestly. He can tell it’s a totally different style, more narrative – one story rather than the many Felix and Minho had intermixed into their program – and it’s… yeah, it’s really fucking sad.

 

But, Jesus, they’re good.

 

Like, really good.

 

Jeongin is playing a character that’s died and Seungmin is grieving for him, Minho’s pretty sure. He can’t quite tell if Jeongin is just a memory or if he’s like a hallucination, but either way, Seungmin’s performance is… wow.

 

The room is deathly silent as their program progresses, except for a few sniffles… at least a few people are crying. Minho feels pretty fucking awkward.

 

But his heart breaks as Seungmin’s character descends into madness, tears streaming down his face as he monologues with Jeongin’s cheery character interrupting every few lines in a really jarring and upsetting way.

 

It’s… super intense.

 

Especially after Minho and Felix… hey, maybe they helped them after all.

 

Either way, the program ends and everyone in the room applauds; Seungmin and Jeongin return to their seats, wiping away tears and smiling, like it never even happened… which, like, it’s acting, so yeah, but Minho’s wondering if he’s the only person with whiplash.

 

Seungmin doesn’t look at him once.

 

The rest of the performances are super unextraordinary. There’s one other comedic piece, but it falls pretty flat, and the rest are super depressing, but none are as intense and powerful as Seungmin and Jeongin’s… but maybe that’s just his bias showing.

 

The final team presents and it’s literally the same as most of the others. Sad, depressing, uncomfortable, unremarkable… maybe Felix is a genius (which, honestly, he probably is, anyway) or maybe they really did just make a mockery of the event… who’s to say?

 

When the judge dismisses them, everyone seems back to normal, laughing and joking with their competitors in the way only speech kids do. Minho smiles and tries to breathe as he’s cornered by a few kids who want to talk about his program.

 

He sees Seungmin and Jeongin leave out of the corner of his eye, surrounded by what he imagines are the speech equivalent of groupies; Seungmin’s laughing at something someone said…

 

He hasn’t looked at Minho once since their program ended.

 

Well, there goes that. Maybe he can just move on, now. He’ll probably get… weird… with Felix later about it, but, for now, he just rolls his shoulders and focuses on the compliments he’s receiving from these strangers.

 

It is nice. They worked really hard on that program, and Minho was really putting himself out there to even think about doing an interp event.

 

So, fuck Seungmin.

 

Minho eventually does duck out of the room, smiling and thanking them one last time for the compliments. He’s already pulling his phone out, ready to text Changbin and figure out where their team is set up-

 

“Hey, Minho.”

 

He nearly drops his phone in shock. The hallway has almost completely cleared out except for Kim fucking Seungmin.

 

He was waiting for him?

 

Seungmin looks totally normal, that cute smile on his face, voice cheery, like these aren’t the first words he’s spoken to him outside of round since he fucked him over a bathroom sink months ago.

 

“I really liked your program,” Minho catches the way Seungmin glances at a trio of speech kids walking away from them… leaving them alone, “I didn’t know you did speech events.”

 

Minho’s walls are all up, it’s almost scary how naturally he slides into his self-assured persona around Seungmin, but… he needs it. He feels so fucking off-balance around the kid, even before they fucked and Seungmin started ignoring him, he’s not sure what it is.

 

“Yeah, Felix talked me into it,” His voice is totally casual, completely hiding the mental breakdown he’s having. Yeah, he needs to talk to Seungmin, but he definitely didn’t expect to do it now.

 

“Felix,” Seungmin smiles, and Minho doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems… forced, “We’ve met a few times, he’s super nice.”

 

Minho has no fucking clue where this is going, “Oh, yeah, he’s a great friend.”

 

“Friend?”

 

Oh?

 

Minho has to be imagining or misinterpreting this because there’s no way- Seungmin can’t possibly be jealous, right?

 

“Oh, yeah,” Minho laughs, maybe it sounds natural, but his thoughts are moving a mile a minute and he can’t begin to care, “just a good friend. The program was just meant to be a joke.”

 

The hallway is so fucking quiet, it’s deafening.

 

Is that why Seungmin was looking at him like that? He thought Minho and Felix were fucking? Why would that even bother him? What the fuck is even going on right now?

 

Seungmin’s expression is hard to read. It always is; he’s just as good at hiding as Minho, after all. That’s one of the things that drew him in, but now it’s just incredibly inconvenient.

 

He can see Seungmin calculating, his response taking just a moment too long. Minho takes it as a confirmation. He is jealous, “Well, I’m sure you’ve enjoyed spending so much time with him… for the program.”

 

Minho is so conflicted between feeling ecstatic that Seungmin cares enough to get jealous and pissed off that Seungmin, who’s been ignoring him both in person and over text, has the audacity to be jealous that he might be fucking someone else. Regardless, this dancing around the subject thing is obnoxious.

 

“I haven’t fucked him, and I never plan to, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

Seungmin’s clearly shocked, and Minho is given a moment to panic that he’d been totally off base about what Seungmin was talking about, before a tense smile is back on his face, “Oh, good.”

 

“Good?” Minho isn’t given a chance to process before Seungmin grabs him by the arm, grip surprisingly strong… Minho hates himself a bit for how his dick reacted to it. His wires are all crossed from the last time.

 

He’s dragged into an empty lecture room and can only watch breathlessly as Seungmin locks the door. The lights stay off, only faint sunlight drifting through the drawn blinds, casting shadows across the younger boy’s face as he quickly approaches the spot Minho had become frozen to.

 

To say Minho is shocked at the expression there… it’s an understatement.

 

But he openly accepts soft lips crashing against his own, big hands pressing him back until his knees hit a table set up in the front of the room and he’s pushed on top of it, Seungmin’s body leaning over him to keep their mouths flush with one another.

 

“God, I can’t believe you-“ Seungmin is hardly pulling away long enough to breathe the words into their shared space, fingers tugging clumsily at Minho’s suit jacket and tie while the older is still just trying his best to hold on, hands gripping around Seungmin’s thin waist, “I thought- and you kept fucking looking at me.”

 

“You were seriously jealous?” Minho’s mind is reeling; he’s gasping for breath around Seungmin’s lips, still trying to process the fact that he’d totally misread the situation and catch up to this whole new situation they’re currently in, “I thought you just hated the program.”

 

No, Jesus,” Seungmin bites at his bottom lip, drawing an embarrassing noise from the older man underneath him.

 

“What did you say? That first time?” He’s kissing and scraping his teeth along Minho’s jaw, the sensitive skin at the top of his neck, just above his collar. Minho’s brain is short-circuiting, “You wanted to bend me over the desk in front of everyone, or something like that? Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, but then I- it doesn’t matter.”

 

Minho’s dick reacts to the memory of the last time they did this, the last time he had Seungmin’s hands on him, stripping the stuffy competition clothes from his body. He reaches one hand up to bury it in Seungmin’s carefully styled hair, his nonexistent abs aching from the effort to keep his body in the position the younger boy had pushed him into, his legs hooking around Seungmin’s thighs for stability.

 

He can’t believe this is actually happening.

 

Again.

 

His shirt is hanging off him, and it quickly joins his tie and jacket in a crumpled heap on the cheap lecture room carpet, by the time his brain finally manages to come back online. His fingers feel clumsy and shaky as he releases Seungmin’s soft hair to try to catch up with undressing the other man on top of him.

 

Seungmin doesn’t hate him.

 

Seungmin wants to fuck again.

 

Seungmin was jealous.

 

But Minho’s not stupid.

 

Even as the younger man sucks marks into the fragile skin of his neck, even as his hips grind against Minho’s own while their bodies are completely tangled up in one another’s, he knows not to get ahead of himself.

 

Of course, he wants Seungmin to fuck him, but they do seriously need to talk…

 

Minho feels a toned thigh pressing against where the fabric of his suit pants has gone taut and his brain short-circuits.

 

Maybe they can talk later.

 

There are hands rubbing at the warm skin of his abdomen, sliding over his waist and up his back, dull nails grinding into his shoulder blades as Seungmin presses impossibly closer to him, like he’s trying to fuse the two of them together, completely consume Minho’s shorter form. It’s entirely overwhelming, and Minho’s mind is still struggling to understand how they got here.

 

He wonders if it was like that for Seungmin, last time.

 

Yeah, they can talk later.

 

Getting Seungmin out of his suit is much more critical.

 

Except, just as Minho lets himself get on board with everything, the younger boy groans against his neck, forehead dropping to rest at his collarbone. Minho peers between their bodies to see Seungmin checking the time on his pretentious smart watch, “You have events in Flight B?”

 

Minho’s voice is breathless, already; he’s far too riled up from just some kissing and grinding, and his heart is dropping into his stomach at the thought that the younger boy was just going to leave him like this… god, Seungmin just has to make everything so hard.

 

“Yeah, but…” Seungmin’s face twists up as he straightens enough to meet Minho’s eyes. His lips are red, swollen, and spit-slicked, his hair already messed up, fucking gorgeous, “it’ll be fine. Someone was gonna sign me into all my rooms.”

 

“You’re double entered?” Minho brushes his knuckles up the tight muscles of Seungmin’s toned abdomen, knowing the responsible thing to do would be to help him get his clothes back on and send him on his way, but… yeah, he really didn’t want to do that at all.

 

“Triple,” Seungmin sighed, his fingers brushing through Minho’s hair, catching on the product Felix had encouraged him to use this morning. When Minho caught his wrist, however, it had nothing to do with the tugging at his roots.

 

“You are triple entered and you really think we have time to do anything?”

 

Seungmin literally pouted and if that didn’t make Minho want to say fuck the rest of their events and spend the whole goddamn day fucking the younger boy until he can’t walk straight… or maybe getting fucked until he can’t walk straight… then literally nothing would.

 

Seungmin ducked his head, slowly dragging his hand down Minho’s body until he could cup the still very insistent, almost painfully hard dick in the older man’s pants, “So… you don’t want me to suck you off? Want me to just leave you like this?”

 

Minho’s brain is literal mush, Jesus Christ; it fucking sucks trying to be a responsible adult. The things this kid does to him, “You- Seungmin, you have speech events.”

 

Seungmin bit his lower lip, the corners just slightly turning upwards, “I think I can handle it…”

 

Minho just catches his eyes crinkling up teasingly as he leans in again, warm breath brushing against his ear, “Shouldn’t take too long right?”

 

The words are punctuated by Seungmin’s hand grinding down against his crotch, and it takes Minho a second to realize the noise echoing in the small space between them came from him. The fucking things Seungmin does to him.

 

“Only if you stop fucking wasting time.”

 

Seungmin does.

 

He groans, shifting to press a final bruising kiss to Minho's lips before the muted thud of his knees hitting the low pile carpeting permanently ingrains itself in the older man's mind.

 

Minho takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself and mentally prepare as Seungmin makes quick work of the latches on his belt and suit pants, the pressure of his hands against where his aching dick has been trapped against too tight fabric beginning to drive him insane. The younger boy doesn't bother pulling his pants down all the way, just enough to free up some space so he can hook the fingers of one hand under the waist band of Minho's boxer briefs while the other, thank god, frees his dick from the damp polyester-spandex fabric.

 

He’s leaning back on his hands, looking down to try to memorize every tiny detail of what he’s seeing because holy fucking shit.

 

Seungmin, for once, looks small where he’s squeezed his narrow chest in between Minho’s spread thighs, thin arms resting on top of them and one hand wrapped around the older man’s leaking red cock, the other’s fingertips digging into the soft flesh at his waist. His face is flushed, pretty eyes hooded, lips still shiny and stimulated from his assault on Minho’s neck, parted just a bit as his focus is entirely fixated on the dick in his hand. His hair is mussed, rogue strands sticking out in every direction.

 

Minho shifts his weight so he can bring one hand forward to brush Seungmin’s fringe back from his face, the younger boy humming as he experimentally shifts his grip upwards, seemingly fascinated by the sight as another heavy drop of precum leaks from the tip, “I don’t remember you being uncut.”

 

The statement confuses Minho for a moment as he wrestles with what Seungmin just said and the fact that his hand is currently just teasing his aching cock, making everything so difficult to process, “Huh?”

 

Seungmin glances up at him with a grin as he purposefully drags his thin fingers up over the sensitive head of Minho’s dick, making him jerk, his thighs seizing against the younger man’s ribs, “I didn’t get a good look, last time, it was just an observation.”

 

Oh, so… that part of the program… Seungmin hasn’t seen his cock, has he?

 

Before now, of course.

 

Minho has a moment to wonder how he’s supposed to respond to that before all thoughts fly out the window as Seungmin leans in, wrapping his lips around the head of his dick.

 

Minho’s had his dick sucked before, not as many times as he’s sucked other people’s dicks, but this isn’t new to him, or anything… except it is. Because it’s Seungmin. The stupid handsome underclassman Kim Seungmin that beats him in debate more often than he’d like to admit, the Kim Seungmin that’s been on his mind for months, the Kim Seungmin that fucked him in a bathroom after kicking his ass in round, the Kim Seungmin that he was so sure hated him, like, fifteen minutes ago.

 

That Kim Seungmin is sucking his dick.

 

He keeps his hand wrapped firmly around the base as he hollows his cheeks and presses his tongue along the underside, slowly pulling off. His gaze is intent as he slowly drags his fist down and reveals the sensitive tip, again. Minho isn’t prepared, at all, for him to lean in and press his lips gently to the space just under his head, or for his tongue to poke out and drag along the edge.

 

He bites his lip, trying to hold in the noises he wants to make. He has no idea if the hallway is still empty, and he really does try to care about not getting caught, even if the way Seungmin is looking up at him makes that ridiculously fucking difficult.

 

Seungmin shifts his hand so he can work his way down Minho’s length, licking and suckling. He has to wonder how many blowjobs Seungmin’s given. Like… he just doesn’t look like someone who’s sucked a lot of dick, but he also doesn’t look like someone who’d initiate anything sexual, at all, so Minho’s obviously already very off-base.

 

And, fuck, this isn’t the first time he’s done this. No fucking way. He maintains dead-straight eye contact as he flattens his tongue and licks a long stripe up Minho’s length from base to tip before taking him into his mouth, once again, deeper this time. He starts moving up and down, sucking and wiggling his tongue against the underside, only pausing when he accidentally goes a bit too deep, pulling off to cough.

 

His hand slides through his spit and Minho’s precum, working the slippery mess down so that he can pump his fist along the base while focusing his mouth on where Minho is most sensitive, swirling his tongue underneath the skin he keeps pulling forward…

 

It’s fucking pornographic.

 

Seungmin’s eyes blinking up at him, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, swollen red lips wrapped obscenely around his dick, soft moans sending vibrations straight through his body…

 

Minho’s gonna lose it.

 

His hips are jerking forward, even as he tries to stay still, his fingers clenched in Seungmin’s soft hair, even as he tries to relax his grip. He’s given up on staying quiet, embarrassing, desperate noises passing his parted lips as his shaky thighs squeeze against Seungmin’s ribs.

 

He’s so fucking close, and he tells Seungmin that much, but it just makes the younger man moan and suck harder, work his hand faster and holy fucking shit-

 

Minho’s entire body shudders and curls in on itself as he comes, a pathetic cry echoing off the walls.

 

And Seungmin just… lets him cum in his mouth.

 

He can’t fucking wrap his head around that; proper, strait-laced Kim Seungmin, grr-I-hate-you Kim Seungmin, just sucked his dick and swallowed his cum like it was nothing.

 

Minho’s shaking, his limbs heavy and trembling, but he twists his fingers in Seungmin’s undone button down as he works his ass back more fully onto the table, guiding the boy up and pulling him forward until Seungmin gets the hint and climbs up with him, straddling Minho’s hips.

 

Minho shoves the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and Seungmin helps him undo his own suit pants, both of their fingers fumbling, but it’s worth it when he finally gets his eyes and hands on Seungmin’s skin, his cock. He wishes his brain was working, feels like he should come up with something more creative, nicer than jerking the younger boy off, but that’s just not going to happen.

 

Seungmin doesn’t complain. He’s breathing harshly, a complete mess, and his hips twitch against Minho’s thighs when a hand is wrapped around him. He’s so wet from his own precum, but Minho still spits into his free hand before bringing it down to twist around the base.

 

The younger boy whines, leaning into Minho’s body, hands on his shoulders to steady them both. He looks so fucking pretty, lips blood-red and coated in spit and the remaining traces of Minho’s cum, his cheeks flushed, sweat glistening at his temples in the low lighting.

 

Their foreheads and noses bump together before Minho manages to suck Seungmin’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it as his fingers twist around the head of his dick. Seungmin’s fingernails dig into his shoulders, practically vibrating in his lap as he gasps.

 

Minho moves to pull his face away for a moment, wanting to watch the usually completely composed boy fall apart in his hands, but Seungmin chases after him, pressing needy, desperate kisses against his lips, and who the fuck is Minho to say no to that?

 

He can taste himself on Seungmin’s tongue, and the thought has his spent dick making a valiant effort to rise, but he focuses his full attention on returning the favor for the stupid, gorgeous boy in his lap.

 

Seungmin’s hands are everywhere, sliding up his arms, over his shoulders and back, up into his sweaty hair. He’s making these fucking gorgeous, breathy noises against Minho’s mouth as the older man drags his hands around his cock, Seungmin’s hips squirming from the relentless stimulation.

 

“I’m not- fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Seungmin’s choking on his moans, voice thick, his breathing coming in rapid, short pants as he gives up on making out. Minho takes the opportunity to get payback for the bruises Seungmin had left on him earlier, latching onto a spot just south of his jawline, hoping it will be visible over his collar later…

 

Maybe it’s a bit of a dick move, but Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind, tilting his head to give Minho better access, long fingers twisting in his hair to keep his mouth right where it is.

 

And, besides, if this is all Minho’s gonna get, even if just for a while… he wants to indulge a little.

 

So, he digs his teeth harshly into the patch of skin, loving the feeling of Seungmin’s groans vibrating against his lips, the muscles flexing under his skin as his jaw trembles.

 

His only regret is that he doesn’t get to see what the younger boy looks like. He tries to imagine his spit slicked lips parted and quivering, eyes squeezed closed as he clutches at Minho, hips jerking forward as he’s worked closer and closer to the edge.

 

Seungmin’s movements are knocking him off balance, and his poor abdomen muscles have had it, but Seungmin enthusiastically follows Minho as he lays back on the hard table, letting his forehead rest on the cool surface, thighs spread wide around Minho’s waist.

 

He gasps, fingers making aborted motions against Minho’s scalp as he continues his assault on the younger man’s neck, his palm moving to grind over the tip of his cock. The boy on top of him is a mess, shaking and squirming in Minho’s grip.

 

He finally shifts his mouth until it’s right up against Seungmin’s ear, “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

 

And he’s gone.

 

Seungmin’s body flexes and jerks over top of him as warm cum shoots across Minho’s belly and chest, the boy’s choked off gasps breathed right into his ear.

 

Fuck.

 

He pulls his hands away, not wanting to overstimulate him, but Seungmin drops his weight onto Minho, uncaring of the mess, grinding down against his stomach and fuck.

 

Minho’s wet hands reach around to grab at Seungmin’s ass, squeezing at the soft flesh, feeling the way the muscles clench under his grip as his trembling body rocks forward, working himself through the last of his orgasm.

 

Fuck.

 

Seungmin’s movements eventually slow, and the two of them take several long minutes to catch their breaths, just resting there with one another.

 

“Fuck…” Seungmin sounds just as wrecked as he looks, sitting up slowly, looking down at the mess smeared across both of their stomachs, his eyes sliding up Minho’s sweaty, still-flushed body, eventually meeting his gaze, “I have to be somewhere.”

 

“Oh shit,” Minho groans, leaning up on his elbows. Seungmin climbs off him and the table on shaky legs, grimacing at the state he’s in. They steal some tissues from the poor professor whose room they just desecrated, wiping somewhat futilely at the mess they’d made.

 

Minho hurries Seungmin along as soon as he’s safely tucked back into his pants, helping gather his clothing from the pile on the floor, brushing his fingers through the boy’s hair in an attempt to straighten it out… it kind of works.

 

They both smell and look like they just did exactly what they just did, but there’s very little to be done about that, now.

 

“Are you going to make it in time?” It’s kind of hard to process the emotions building in his chest as he helps tie Seungmin’s tie while the boy wipes his sweat away and worries over the dust on his jacket.

 

He doesn’t want this to be it.

 

That’s basically it; he doesn’t want Seungmin to just leave like this…

 

After that.

 

“Yeah, I’m not that late, I’ll just tell all the judges I went to other rooms first, I just have to hurry.”

 

Even as Seungmin says that, he’s fiddling with the buttons on his collar (Minho’s mark from earlier prominently featured just above it, which was pretty stupid, he realizes, now that he’s much more level-headed). He’s decidedly not hurrying, dragging his feet, even.

 

“So, uhm… guess you better get going then…” Minho feels silly, still standing there shirtless and disheveled, while Seungmin is mostly back to normal, not to mention all the things he’s trying to keep himself from saying right before Seungmin runs off.

 

“Yeah, I guess I should…” Minho can’t read Seungmin’s expression, “uhm, see you next time we do this?”

 

Well, okay, what does that even mean? “Or, you know, you could answer my texts.”

 

He doesn’t mean for it to sound cold or harsh, but it probably comes across that way, if Seungmin’s awkward expression is anything to go by. But it’s not like the comment is unjustified.

 

Seungmin’s so fucking confusing. What they just did… that didn’t feel like something two people who hated each other would do. Seungmin definitely wasn’t acting like Minho was someone who wasn’t even worth glancing at when they were in the same room.

 

It just doesn’t make sense.

 

Seungmin mumbles something that vaguely sounds like sorry before turning to leave, and something in Minho forces him to grab his sleeve. The words are tumbling out of him before his brain has a chance to catch up and keep them down.

 

“Oh my god, Seungmin,” Minho huffs, fingers tightening around the cuff of the younger boy’s jacket, “I’m into you, okay? Like… into you into you.”

 

There’s a tense beat of silence, Seungmin’s eyes growing wide, jaw dropping, “You’re what?”

 

Oh god. Why did he say that? Minho squeezes his eyes shut, “Seungmin-“

 

“You’re seriously-“ Slightly crumpled, sweat-damp suit pants come back into his line of sight; his arm going slack as the distance between them dissipates, “You like me? Like, you actually like me? Like that?”

 

Well fuck.

 

Yes! Oh my god, how was that not clear?” Minho forces himself to raise his gaze, into the deer-in-the-headlights look Seungmin is giving him as he hovers uncertainly at his side, “I sent you pictures of my cats, Seungmin, of course I like you!”

 

“You barely know me.”

 

“I know!” Minho feels flustered, anxious, embarrassed, overwhelmed… but Seungmin isn’t running… yet, “But I just- I want to, maybe, okay?

 

The younger boy’s mouth gapes for a moment before finally breathing out a soft “Oh…”

 

“What did you think was happening?”

 

It’s Seungmin’s turn to avert his gaze to the floor, blush lighting up his soft skin, “I thought… like, maybe you just thought of me as, like, a booty call or something…”

 

“A boo- Seungmin?!”

 

“I didn’t know!” Those eyes, fuck, this is the most vulnerable they’ve ever been with one another… which should be ridiculous. They’ve fucked twice now, but this is… different, something somehow much more intense.

 

Minho kind of wants to be sick.

 

“Was I really being that subtle?”

 

“Yes.” The reply is immediate, no hesitation.

 

Minho really doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

“Well… huh.”

 

Minho doesn’t really know how to process all of this. It feels like a rejection, distantly, but he’s mostly just… tired. Physically and emotionally.

 

“But, um, so… back to you liking me…”

 

“Mhm, yeah, the super embarrassing thing I just admitted two seconds ago.”

 

“So, like… what if I kind of… maybe…” Seungmin groans, dragging a hand through his already disheveled hair, like the words are difficult to force out, “want to, maybe, get to know you… better… too?”

 

“You-“ Minho sits up, fingers tugging at Seungmin’s suit jacket to force the younger boy’s gaze back onto his own, “You’re serious?”

 

Seungmin’s eyes flick over his face, and then around the room, and back to his face. Minho forces himself to be patient, wait for his response, even as some stupid happy emotion begins building in his stomach. God, he’s so hopeless.

 

“Yeah? That’s why I didn’t respond to your texts and was… avoiding you, I guess… and why I was maybe… jealous… when I thought you were fucking Felix… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so it pissed me off that I thought that you just wanted…” Seungmin makes a clumsy gesture to the messy state they were both still in.

 

“Oh my god, Seungmin, lead with that next time!”

 

“I’m sorry!” The bright laugh chopping up his words didn’t sound sorry; it was a happy, weightless sound, free of worry or regret or the negative emotions Minho hadn’t completely realized were starting to overtake him just moments ago… but that was the last thing on his mind, now. “Forgive me?”

 

Yeah.

 

Fuck yeah.

 

Minho’s nodding stupidly, but the glances Seungmin sends to the door before getting back up in his space had his eyes widening.

 

Seungmin sets his mouth in a straight line, even as his clammy hand comes up to cup Minho’s cheek, “This is just an agreement to get to know each other better, okay?”

 

Minho huffs out a laugh, “Of course, it’s not like I’m already smitten with you or something, your dick isn’t that great.”

 

Seungmin turns his face up to the ceiling, letting out a lengthy breath through pursed lips, in a long-suffering way, even as his thumb brushes affectionately over Minho’s cheekbone.

 

“I’m kidding,” Minho laughs, “but… I can still take you out for dinner or something, right?”

 

Seungmin tries to stifle his grin, but the happy look in his eyes gives him away, “Yes, I’d like that… after nationals.”

 

Minho smiles bright and wide and honest, “It’s a date, then.”

 

Seungmin answers his grin, leaning in to peck his lips quickly before drawing away. Minho pouts, reaching for his jacket, suddenly feeling infinitely more secure, confident, happy.

 

“I have to go,” Seungmin laughs twisting out of reach. He pauses at the door, turning back for just a second, “I’ll text you when my round’s over.”

 

And then he’s darting out of the lecture room… leaving Minho…

 

But this time, Minho knows it’s not for good.

 

And that’s all that matters.