Work Header

Begin As You Mean to Go On

Work Text:

When Tutor walked away with his new bracelet, he could feel the weight of Fighter’s eyes on his back. The sensation most definitely didn’t send shivers down his spine or make him square his shoulders defiantly.

After running about 50 laps and then having to crawl back to beg for the rest of the senior’s signature, he hoped any future interactions would be restricted to the bare minimum. At least Fighter hadn’t forced any more physical exercise on him, leaning back on his ridiculously muscular forearms and firing questions about the university and the engineering faculty at Tutor with an unreadable expression on his stupidly handsome face. Yes, Tutor wanted nothing more to do with him.

This intention lasted exactly until his fourth drink at the engineering party that night, when he literally stumbled across Fighter on his way to the bathroom. The senior had been sitting in a dark corner, legs stretched out, and was now cursing colourfully, Tutor having hit him right in the shins.

“P’, I’m so sorry,” Tutor apologised, wai’ing – or rather, attempting to, the alcohol suddenly catching up with him. Only Fighter’s quick reflexes stopped him from falling over, strong arms coming around Tutor. It brought them into rather close proximity, and Tutor could smell a mix of liquor, sweat and what he supposed was Fighter’s own scent. It was strangely appealing, and he swallowed hard.

The senior’s eyes were almost black, pupils blown as he stared at Tutor, and when he licked his lips, Tutor knew with complete certainty what was about to happen. For a second he considered pulling away, except he realised that he actually didn’t want to. This might prove to be a colossal mistake, but that was a matter for the next day, after he sobered up.

Therefore, when Fighter leaned in Tutor did the same. Their lips touched, slid against each other, tentatively at first. However, the lightning bolt of pure desire that shot through Tutor’s body at even this slight contact made him gasp and grip Fighter by his lapel, hauling him in. After that, all bets were off, their mouths fused together, tongues tangling and bodies rubbing against each other in a way that made all of Tutor’s blood rush downwards.

Fighter seemed similarly affected if the hardness forming against Tutor’s thigh was anything to go by, accompanied by long fingers traveling down his back. It seemed that in Fighter’s case the old adage of big hands being an indicator of the size of… other body parts was absolutely true. Tutor bit back a moan and crowded Fighter against the wall of their dark corner, slipping a daring hand between their grinding bodies.

The sound that escaped Fighter when Tutor cupped him through his jeans, low and growling, rumbled through his chest, and the next moment their positions were switched. Tutor’s back hit the wall, but he barely noticed. Fighter had broken their kiss, but only to attach his mouth to Tutor’s neck while he impatiently pulled at his tie, giving him better access to kiss and lick and bite until Tutor’s head was spinning. The fact that Fighter had inserted a very muscular thigh between his legs, making for perfect friction, only added to the perfect storm of lust and arousal coiling in his stomach.

“P’,” he gasped, half plea, half warning, but all Fighter did was kiss him again, deep and dirty. Helplessly turned on, Tutor could only press his palm against the bulge that had be be painfully pressing against Fighter’s zipper, which seemed to be enough. With a bitten off curse, the senior stiffened and bucked, his body arching in Tutor’s embrace. Tutor couldn’t help but follow, pleasure racing through him like lightning, clinging to Fighter as he fell apart.

They remained like this for a long while, their breathing slowing, their heartbeats calming down, until the stickiness in his jeans made Tutor shift uncomfortably. These sorts of things always seemed like a better idea during than after – not that he had had that many encounters of this kind, his experience being mostly limited to some fumbling kisses and helping hands between friends.

It didn’t help that he was beginning to feel more sober. Still, he didn’t regret it. They might have gotten off to a rocky start, but there was no denying the way their bodies fit together. Even now Fighter was still holding him, although he couldn’t quite seem to make himself meet Tutor’s gaze. Could it be that the senior was simply very, very bad at flirting?

Tutor didn’t get a chance to ask, however, because right then someone called Fighter’s name, causing him to jerk away as if burned. It sent a pang of disappointment through Tutor, but he forced himself to smile and say lightly, “You go first.”

“Hm.” For a second the senior’s expression seemed conflicted, then it smoothed over and he nodded. “I’ll… see you.”

With that he disappeared, leaving Tutor confused as well as desperately in need of a shower. Still, he remained cautiously optimistic that whatever this had been might prove the beginning of… something. Something real.

Unfortunately it seemed that he’d miscalculated.

Looking at Fighter smiling at HwaHwa, Tutor bit his lip and pretended that all he felt was annoyance. He had more important things to worry about after all, he would not let a stupid senior affect him. No matter that he could still feel Fighter’s eyes on him.