“I’m sorry,” Johnny clears his throat. He brings his hand to cover the upwards tug of his mouth, forgoing his spoon in a container of fruit cocktail. “Do you wanna run that by me again?” Jaehyun’s stifled laugh from beside him is much more evident as he hunches over, biting into his burger.
Mark sighs, dragging his gaze upwards to the cafeteria’s ceiling— a silent protest to God for being so unmerciful— before licking his lips and toying with the styrofoam tray in front of him. “I said , I’m joining the Abstinence Club.”
This time both Johnny and Jaehyun are less considerate of sparing Mark’s feelings, laughing in unison, bracing their elbows against the sticky lunch table, and cradling their faces in the palm of their hands. Mark’s used to the jabbing and joking at his own expense— has had ten years to adjust— but that doesn’t stop the warmth, the radiating red, tinting the tips of his ears and creeping down the nape of his neck.
“Don’t laugh,” he mutters, knocking the carton of milk off his tray. “It’s not funny.”
“You’re right,” Jaehyun sniffles, laughter dying after clearing his throat. A smirk still lies faint upon his lips as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “It’s hilarious .”
“It’s like all of your mom’s wet dreams come true,” Johnny adds.
Mark scrunches his nose into a grimace. “Yo, don’t ever fucking say that again.”
“I’m just saying,” Johnny takes Mark’s discarded milk, pulls the tab open, and takes a long swig. “You’re playing perfectly into the pristine church boy pedestal they’ve been putting you on for years. Abstinence Club? That shit’s gonna make it to the Sunday church program, just you watch.”
He’s not religious— well he is , but he isn’t. Spiritual is probably a better word for it. Mark’s family— his grandmother, father, and especially his mother— are religious , but he’s spiritual . Years of being forced into a stranglehold of eight-hour sermons and mandatory participation in the church choir and youth group taught Mark one thing: he’s not perfect, and the God he believes in doesn’t expect him to be. Somewhere, however, it was lost in translation amongst his family and church members, all throwing proverbial stones from glasshouses. He never makes a fuss or complains though, taking it all in stride like a good son would. He graduates and leaves for college in four more months anyway.
“I’m not joining because of my religion,” Mark grumbles, peeling back the plastic on his own fruit cocktail cup. “There’s like, no clubs left to join. Every single one is full.” He slurps the juice from the cup before scooping up a spoonful of fruit. “No one told me colleges look at extracurricular activities.”
“Too bad wacking it doesn’t count as an extracurricular activity, huh?” Johnny jabs. “You’ve put in hundreds of hours into that.” Mark tosses his empty fruit cup at him.
“Mark, what exactly have you been doing for the last four years?” Jaehyun asks, taking on a more serious tone now. “ Johnny’s on the school newspaper team, I’m on the debate team— we both play football. You couldn’t have actually just gone to school and gone home every day up until now.”
Mark’s eyes dart around deep in thought for a moment before replying, “I walked into a Mathletes meeting once. I left my bag in the classroom.”
“And you think one semester of being the poster child for the Abstinence Club will make a difference to colleges? They usually make their decision by March.” Johnny says.
Mark winces. He really tried not to think about that. The majority of their graduating class already has their future sealed with an acceptance letter and scholarship awards to the college of their choice. Mark tried not to dwell on it; he’s usually relaxed and composed under pressure, but every day his parents and grandma ask him about his status or of any good news in the mail, his palms grow a tad bit sweatier and his heart speeds up in an anxiety-induced panic. There’s always the community college, he knows it’s a safety net though not necessarily wanted, but he’s put all his eggs and faith into the basket of moving as far away as possible. He wants to explore the world, explore other people, explore himself , and he definitely can’t do that beneath the watchful eye of extended family.
“The school’s advisor said Abstinence Club would be a standout,” Mark says. “Not too many universities see that on an applicant’s application.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Johnny snorts under his breath.
Mark lets out a frustrated groan and pushes the tray further towards the center of the table, appetite nonexistent. “You could at least be somewhat supportive. I mean, like, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Being a member of a club like that shows that I have dedication, integrity, willpower-”
“It shows that you’re a liar,” Jaehyun interrupts. Mark cocks his eyebrow, eyes blinking rapidly prompting Jaehyun to continue. “You’re not a virgin, Mark.”
Mark swallows thickly and the heat settling at the back of his neck spreads to his entire face, painting his skin in an unmissable flush. Every inch of his skin tingles as Jaehyun and Johnny take in his sudden silence, leveling him with a slow glance and agape mouths.
“Wait,” Jaehyun drops his fork. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re still a virgin?”
Mark practically leaps across the table, stretched far across the top to cover Jaehyun’s mouth with the palm of his hand and eyes the nearby table for any eavesdroppers. “Dude, don’t tell the whole world!”
“I thought you fucked that kid you told us about from summer camp?” Johnny snaps, trying to recollect the name but coming up short.
Mark slowly withdraws his hand from Jaehyun’s mouth and sinks back into his seat. “No, we just made out and dry-humped a little,” he cards his hands through his black hair, fingers swiping across the bristles of his undercut.
“Dry-humped?” Johnny balks.
“What?” Mark flushes. “It was hot.”
“There’s absolutely nothing sexy about trying to start a forest fire between a pair of jeans.”
Mark begged to differ. He didn’t expect much out of his church’s summer camp trip to the lake resort, especially being cabin counselor over the preteen youth group, but three days in, he met Lucas, a counselor of another church group, and suddenly his month-long trip was full of secret kisses in the food pantry and rutting by a grove of trees in the dead of night. Lucas may have had completely different reasons for not wanting to consummate their brief fling— he was more pristine on the surface than Mark could ever be— but that didn’t stop him from a harmless compromise. Lucus got to indulge in temptation, virginity intact, and Mark came harder than...well, ever.
“You’re outta your mind,” Mark says, looking at Johnny. “It was hot as fuck. Like, I don’t know, like something forbidden and intense.”
“Yeah,” Johnny drawls, leaning back in his chair. “I bet it was a scene straight out of a James Patterson novel.”
A pleading whine leaves Mark’s throat. “Come on, it’s not like I’m saving myself for marriage or anything. I just, don’t want to fuck just anybody.” He rests his chin on the table, ignoring the slow-moving puddle from who knows what. “Can you guys just do this with me?”
“What? Fuck you?” Jaehyun asks nonchalantly, finishing his fries.
“No! Join the club with me.”
Jaehyun coughs as Johnny chokes on his own saliva. “Uh, Mark,” Jaehyun chuckles. “I’m pretty sure we don’t meet the basic requirements of the club. I mean, I’ve been having sex with Taeyong since the beginning of junior year.”
“And I fucked him just yesterday,” Johnny adds.
Mark ghosts his fingers across his temples, sliding them down to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can you two explain to me exactly how it’s possible that you’re both messing around with Tae-” Mark sits up straight, holding his hands up in defeat and shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t wanna know.”
“We’ve been friends for years, Mark,” Johnny smiles. “ Of course we know how to share.”
Mark groans again and buries his head against his arms. He hoped for the process to be smooth and painless, a guarantee had Johnny or Jaehyun agreed to bear the burden of after school meetings from four to five on Fridays. But what did he expect? Johnny and Jaehyun are at the peak of social status— popular enough to spawn a devoted huddle of admirers, yet modest enough to converse with anyone and everyone. Johnny and Jaehyun live life. They’re busy daily and every weekend, while Mark binge watches the same TV shows over and over and travels between the same three apps all day. At some point, people stopped asking Mark if he had weekend plans. The answer never changed. And now he was paying for it, in more ways than one.
Mark feels the table shift beneath his arms and cranes his head up as Taeyong sets his tray down, wedging a seat in the confined space between Johnny and Jaehyun.
“What’s wrong with Mark?” he asks, immediately skipping the entree and reaching for the chocolate pudding cup on the tray.
“Oh, you know how kids are,” Johnny teases. “Full of raging hormones.” Mark rests his head into his arms again, launching a forceful kick into Johnny’s shin.
“OW!” Taeyong drops the pudding cup and furrows his brows towards Mark. “Did you just kick me?”
Mark sits up straight immediately, scratching his head sheepishly. “Sorry. I missed.” Taeyong’s expression is downright skeptical and even without looking, Mark knows he’s rubbing the tender area beneath the table, but Taeyong eventually places a plastic spoon in his mouth, reaching for his pudding again, eyebrows still taut.
“Mark’s just nervous because he’s joining the Abstinence Club,” Jaehyun pokes. He reclines back in his chair, sliding his arm around Taeyong’s shoulders and playing with the patch of brown hair at the nape of his neck.
Taeyong pauses, face contorting to collect his words. “That’s...nice?” He settles.
“It’s okay,” Johnny says. “You can say it: it’s funny as fuck.”
Taeyong pulls the wet spoon out of his mouth and whacks Johnny on the forehead with it before turning back to face Mark, eyes earnest and gentle. “If it’s something that you want to do Mark I think it’s cute. There’s something attractive about a person that respects themselves to wait and doesn’t fall victim to peer pressure.”
Mark tunes out the conversation that follows. In the back of his mind, he hears Johnny asserting his own respectability to Taeyong and Jaehyun laughing at his antics faintly. Despite the teasing, the torment, and the theories, he’s certain that there’s only one real reason he’s joining the Abstinence Club. It has nothing to do with his virginity, his parent’s belief, peer pressure, or religion.
He just wants to go to college.
The first time Mark ever creamed his pants, he feels guilty.
It’s an accident— not planned or intended and it takes several moments after for the realization of what happened to hit him. He was only fourteen then, just a few weeks shy of the start of high school and untainted by the raunchiness of premarital sex and heavy petting.
August holds the hottest days of summer with the temperature climbing to the late 90s and even the industrial central air conditioner in his parent’s home was no match for the sun’s rays beaming down through the windows.
He jolted awake from his mid-day nap, having had a fever pitch dream too provocative in nature, coated in a sheen of sweat heavy enough to dampen his sheets. The skin of his thighs clung to the mesh material of his basketball shorts and upon further inspection, Mark found himself straining hard against his boxers, an embarrassingly large wet spot pooling on the fabric near the tip of his cock. It was his first wet dream and though he hardly remembered the contents that led to his sticky predicament, he couldn’t suppress the immense guilt he felt.
He had sinned.
The second time he creamed his pants is definitely planned.
He’s home alone again, this time, several months into his freshman year. It’s rare that he gets weekends to himself, especially a Sunday, but by that point, his mother had given up on forcing him into his Sunday best and began making excuses as to why her perfect son missed yet another Sunday sermon. Mark had grown into his own, was able to do his own observations and research, and come up with his own opinions, none of them involving the necessity of church. He was just as content with studying his bible on his own in the comforts of his room, judgment-free.
It was still early enough that the songbirds outside his window hadn’t given up and the rays of the sun spread out across his room in thin stripes past the blinds. The beams warmed his skin and hit his eyes, causing him to squint at the ceiling. Outside his room, he heard shuffling and voices. His parents were rummaging through closets for their loafers and heels, a formal blazer and petticoat to combat the growing chill of early December, and the preserved bible they keep on the top shelf— out of harm’s way.
His mom cracked the door open, poked her head inside like she did every Sunday just to make sure that Mark hadn’t changed his mind. He hadn’t. He tried not to dwell on the disappointed expression that fell upon her face but once the door closed, and the front door locked, the covers were thrown off his person and his hand scrambled across the expanse of his mattress for his phone.
He tapped across the screen and pulled up his gallery to the most recent saved video. Johnny had sent it to him somewhere in between late Saturday night and early Sunday morning, either way, Mark had been dead to the world, flipping his phone over to cover the blinding blue light that had illuminated his room then. But once he woke up, a couple of hours after dawn, before the floorboards in his parents’ bedroom would even creak, Mark finally watched the video.
It was blurry and kind of hard to make out faces, but the sound of Johnny’s voice was unmistakeable behind the camera as the screen angled through dozens of gyrating bodies to the latest pop hit of the week. He couldn’t make out whose house it was— hell, he didn’t even know there was a party to begin with (not that it would have made a difference anyway). He just watched on as Johnny traveled through the crowd until he reached the stairwell, angling the camera towards the third in their trio.
Jaehyun was too invested to notice the camera on him, tongue playing against the wet and pink one of a boy with chestnut brown hair, hand placed dangerously high on the boy’s thigh. The kiss was audible and languid, trails of saliva exchanged in thin strands between Jaehyun and the guy through the foggy haze of Johnny’s cellphone camera.
“Jaehyun’s too busy to come up for air right now,” Johnny joked from behind the camera. “Taeyong’s has him a bit preoccupied.” The camera switched around to show Johnny’s wide grin and his fingers posing into a peace sign. “Wish you were here Mark!” Then the video ended. Watching it at near six am, Mark was a whirlwind of thoughts. Were parties a normal thing for fourteen-year-olds? Is that what he had been missing? How was Jaehyun so...comfortable? He hadn’t had enough time to process the video or its content because before he knew it, his mom had opened his door asking whether or not he intended on attending church that day.
But once they were gone, Mark was able to finally put a word to his emotions and thoughts: curiosity. Interest. Arousal.
He knew enough from the few months in his health class to know that at that day and age his hormones were raging at an all-time high and anything— a magazine cover, a billboard, even a provocatively shaped syrup bottle— could set him off and leave him rock hard in his boxers. But this was an actual video of something intimate and sensual. This was way hotter than the animated girl on the cereal box.
He felt like a pervert rewatching the video over and over, immediately skipping to the last thirty seconds when he heard Taeyong’s moans stifled beneath Jaehyun’s mouth. Mark watched— zoomed in and increased the brightness of his screen— as Jaehyun layered his lips and meshed them against Taeyong’s, tugging at his bottom lip with the slightest nip of his teeth. Jaehyun was experienced for a fourteen-year-old and Taeyong was no stranger to the art of kissing either. Mark’s head was spinning and his dick, throbbing.
It took even less time for him to climb out of his bed and prop his phone against the haphazard pile of blankets, setting the video to play on repeat. He had stood at the bed’s edge, hand sneaking past the waistband of his sweats and into his boxers with ease, grabbing a tight hold of his balls and giving them a firm squeeze as the first moan echoed throughout his room.
Seeing the mess of saliva across Taeyong and Jaehyun’s lips, threatening to spill down their chins only edged Mark further, encouraging him to wet the palm of his hand with his own spit and slap his damp palm around the expanse of his length with a sickly satisfying sound. He had used his other free hand to free himself from the restraints of his pants, stepping out of them after shimmying them down to his ankles, underwear following soon after.
Each pump of his hand across his dick quickened every time the video played in a round, a tension building within him every time he heard the same moan from Taeyong’s mouth or noticed Jaehyun’s fingers lingering across Taeyong’s thigh. Mark’s mind ran rampant with thoughts. He wanted to be kissed and touched. He wanted to taste someone’s tongue— become drunk on their saliva and essence. God, he wanted everything. He wanted to touch. He wanted to fuck .
By the fifth or sixth time of the video replaying, Mark’s moans began to mesh with Taeyong’s as he neared his climax, circling his palm around the head of his cock and brushing the pad of his thumb across his sensitive slit, spitting precum onto his fingers. He was so close. So fucking close.
His vision was blurring.
His body was coated in sweat.
He could hear his heart beating in his ears— a reasonable excuse for how he could have possibly missed the front door unlocking and the creak of heavy footsteps upon the stairs.
Mark came. He came hard, into his hand and a little bit on his sheets, nearly missing his phone entirely, but his mind wasn’t concerned with dirtied sheets or the hot shower he was well overdue for.
His mother was in the opened doorway of his room, frozen in spot, mouth agape, and expression unreadable.
“F-fuck! Mom!” Mark had yelled, scrambling to cover his wet dick and pull up his pants at the same time, but the damage was already done.
That Sunday Mark went to church, and he went every Sunday after that whether he liked it or not. And every night until his fifteenth birthday, his mom made him write lines of fifty across sheets of loose-leaf paper, repeating the same Bible verse.
1 Peter 2:11 Abstain from Passions of the Flesh.
1 Peter 2:11 Abstain from Passions of the Flesh.
1 Peter 2:11 Abstain from Passions of the Flesh.
When the dismissal bell rings Friday afternoon, Mark lags a little behind his class. He packs his bag a little slower, tries to wait for the very last person to exit the room, and even engages in idle conversation with his English teacher just to buy some time. Unfortunately, the moment he steps out of the classroom, Johnny is waiting, lingering against the locker just left of the classroom’s entrance, and wearing a Cheshire grin.
Mark slumps his shoulders, fingering the sole strap of his backpack hanging there. “You did not race to this side of the school just to watch me do this walk of shame.”
Johnny chuckles, arms folded across his practice jersey. “I don’t know what you mean. I just wanted to walk my best friend to his club before practice.” His hand comes to land on his heart and a faux expression of hurt crosses his face. “I’m hurt, Mark. Is it so bad that I care about you and wanna see you off?”
Mark doesn’t stay to entertain the notion, walking off from Johnny’s sudden burst of laughter and increasing his steps as he hears Johnny’s own echoing behind him. He’s the football team’s running back so it should serve as no surprise that Johnny catches up to his side in no time.
“What do you think you guys are gonna do for a whole hour?” Johnny asks, seemingly taking on a tone of genuine interest. “I wonder if it’ll be like health class, only you know, more preachy?”
Mark hopes not.
“Oh, if they hand out condoms will you grab me a few?” Johnny adds.
“Why would an abstinence club give out condoms?” Mark deadpans.
“I’m just trying to take an interest in your interests, Mark.”
“You know this isn’t my interest.”
Johnny shrugs his shoulders, amusement filtering back through his eyes. “Maybe it won’t be that bad, I mean, it can’t be anything you haven’t heard already before. Try to stay positive.”
In a scary way, Johnny is right, though Mark has a hard time admitting it. It’s only one semester— an approximate fifteen weeks and he only has to meet on Fridays. It’s a short price to pay for college admission and it could definitely be a lot worse. So Mark would probably have to read pamphlets on pamphlets about abstinence, and potentially suffer firsthand embarrassment from being photographed by the school paper. Come August, he’ll be able to move away from town and the fact that Mark Lee was ever affiliated with the club will be a faint memory in some unknown’s yearbook.
Mark notices when Johnny stops walking and realizes that they’ve already arrived at the meeting room— a classroom that’s used as a sophomore chemistry class during school hours. Through the tiny window in the door, Mark sees a faculty member standing before an unseen group of listeners, already rattling off about the semester’s goals and activities.
“Dude, you can’t just linger outside the door,” Johnny comments. “You look like a creeper.”
Mark frowns. “Aren’t you gonna be late for practice? Stop hovering.”
Johnny clicks his tongue and shrugs his shoulders. “Alright man,” he says, heading backwards down the hall. “But if you want a ride home, you’d better be at my car by five o’clock sharp.”
Mark heaves a deep sigh. That definitely won’t be a problem.
The Abstinence Club is the complete opposite of what Mark expects.
In all honesty, he didn’t have too many expectations, to begin with, so it’s probably not saying much.
The club isn’t reminiscent of Sunday School or weekly Youth Ministries, admonishing the sins of sex before marriage and recreational sex as a whole. There aren’t long drawn out stories about how they avoided scenarios of debauchery and sin. They don’t even take the time to scrutinize every single thing in the media as a tool of brainwashing the youth into lives of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
It’s just a group of teenagers signing a daily waiver pledging continued abstinence, and then basically a free forty five minute pass of study hall.
It’s perhaps the best outcome Mark could have hoped for, but he still expects some type of activity to keep him focused and busy throughout the hour. He can ignore his studies and homework at home on his own time. He didn’t need a group of chaperones for that.
Mark recognizes the first officer, Doyoung as he approaches him, paper pledge in hands, polite grin on his face.
“Are you joining the club?” Doyoung asks, handing the paper over to Mark before he answers. “We’re always looking for new members.”
Mark looks down at the paper and glosses over the words. “Uh, yeah,” he sighs, shoulders sinking. “I guess I am.”
“Great!” Doyoung ushers him further into the classroom, towards the teacher’s desk in the front where a sign-in sheet is clipped onto a clipboard with a few scraggly signatures. “I’m Doyoung, the vice president,” he says, as if every single soul in the school isn’t already well aware of who he is.
“Yeah, I know,” Mark shrugs his backpack down to the ground and picks up the pen to sign his name. “I’m Mark Lee.”
The clipboard slides away from his grasp, just as the pen touches the paper and Mark lifts his head to see Doyoung’s perturbed expression. “Mark Lee? Aren’t you friends with Jaehyun and Johnny?”
Mark rises to stand straight, brow arched. “Yeah?”
Doyoung twists his mouth in contemplation, and Mark can tell he’s calculating his next words. “Are you sure this is the right club for you? You do know what we stand for right?”
“I know what abstinence means,” Mark frowns, taking the clipboard from Doyoung’s hand. “And yeah, I’m sure this is the right club for me.” He really isn’t, but he’s not going to let Doyoung’s haughty attitude have that type of satisfaction.
Doyoung watches closely as Mark signs the sign-in sheet and then the waiver and takes both documents in his hands as Mark forks them over. “Well, welcome then,” he says, this time, smile a tad bit more forced. “We’re welcoming to everyone who’s in favor of what we support.” He turns around to hand the sheets to a blonde guy, hovering meekly a few steps away. “This is Jungwoo, he’s the historian of our club.” Doyoung gestures vaguely to Jungwoo, who barely offers Mark a passing glance. “We’re having study hall right now, so just take a seat anywhere.”
It’s a bit disappointing and underwhelming if Mark’s being honest, but he complies. He’s here for college, he’s here for that extra oomph to his college applications. He doesn’t need anything challenging or complicated. The easier, the better, and there isn’t anything easier than ignoring everyone around him, pretending they don’t exist for the better half of the hour.
He takes the only empty seat left, one across from a boy that he doesn’t recognize. He’s nose deep in a textbook, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth, honey-colored hair falling in his face in waves. He doesn’t notice Mark right away, too busy reading the double-column passages in the senior level English book, but when Mark slumps down, seat audibly screeching against the tile floor, the boy’s eyes land on him like aimed daggers.
“Sorry,” Mark mutters sheepishly.
He half-expects the boy to bear the burden of his grudge, huffing and rolling his eyes back into the pages of his book, but he doesn’t. Rather, his expression softens before he says, “It’s okay.”
Mark watches the guy and isn’t aware of how long and how intense he’s staring until the guy looks up from his book again and Mark darts his eyes away, hoping that he hadn’t been caught. The guy doesn’t say anything and Mark assumes he’s in the clear, but as soon as he dares to catch another glimpse of the boy, the smirk etched across his face tells him otherwise.
He refocuses his attention on something else— pulling out his calculus homework and staring at the blank sheet in front of him, dumbfounded. It’s an insurmountable task and unreasonable (when was he ever going to use calculus in his real life anyway?) — one that he usually tackles with Johnny, but he doesn’t have anything else to bide his time with. He writes his name at the top of the worksheet and leans back to stare at it some more— an entire five minutes passing before he realizes that the guy across from him is staring back now.
“Uh,” Mark stumbles out, unsure of what to say. It’s not like he can really call the guy out, especially when he himself had been caught red-handed, but he has to say something to stop the situation from being even more awkward than it already is. “This is, my, uh, my first time. Here.”
The guy’s smirk grows. “I noticed.”
Mark scratches the back of his head, unsure of what to do about the penetrative gaze that hasn’t left his body and laughs as his skin grows hot beneath the ray of attention. “Are you, like, new?” He says, trying to refocus his attention on his homework, but it only threatens the start of a headache. “I’ve never seen you around before.”
His attention pulls back to the boy at the sound of a wrapper crumpling between his fingers, a cherry red lollipop pushing past a pair of plush lips, and balling in the depths of his cheeks.
“Nope,” the boy says. “I’ve been a member for years.”
Mark’s brow raises in surprise, eyes widening at the confession. It’s not polite at all— he even hears his mother’s words of never judging a book by its cover ringing deep within his ears, but there isn’t a single cell in his brain that would’ve pegged the guy as the type to be pro-abstinence. He’s pretty— far too pretty , Mark thinks, and guys this pretty rarely ever go long without someone hitting on them or asking them for dates. But the glaringly obvious fact is, this guy, like most of the members in the club (a total of ten— eleven now, including himself), probably made the conscious decision to refrain from sex. He probably wasn’t forced into it by parents or pressured by college applications. The club and everything it stands for is a choice, one that Mark himself was forced into without being entirely sure of how he felt about it.
“Oh,” he says lamely, before leaning forward into the table, bracing his arms on the surface. “Well, I’m Mark. Maybe you could show me the ropes around here then?”
The guy pulls the wet sucker out of his mouth and Mark can’t help but follow the slide of saliva down the bulb and to the stem of the stick. “That’s kind of my job,” he says tilting his head, offering a cherry-lip stained smile. “Lee Donghyuck, president.”
Mark swallows hard and makes a mental note to repent for his unholy thoughts.
By the next meeting, Mark’s not so sure of the club’s authenticity.
He feels more like a pack mule than a virtuous member of society, lugging dozens of boxes from Doyoung’s car across the courtyard, up the third-floor stairs to the student activities storage room. Conveniently, over half of the club’s members were busy on this particular Friday, leaving Mark to bear the brunt of all the heavy lifting.
He’s traveled up and down the flight of stairs so many times that his feet are able to memorize each ascension by muscle memory, saving him the embarrassment of tripping over a missed step. Doyoung uses the excuse of not being able to leave his car and Jungwoo simply “isn’t built” for heavy lifting, both sending Mark encouraging thumbs up and offering a warm bottle of water from within Doyoung’s car each time he trollops back, nearly out of breath and covered in sweat.
The boxes are overstock— dozens of banners, and t-shirts with the slogan, “Abstinence is my Choice” printed across them.
“We over-estimated,” Doyoung had grinned sheepishly. Mark would’ve argued that ordering one had been one too many.
He places the last box atop the stack of others in the storage room, leaning against them to catch his breath as the door swings open, jolting him upright as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.
Donghyuck stands in the doorway, balancing a smaller open box of forms against his hip, confusion etched on his face. “What are you still doing here, Mark?”
“You mean besides fucking dying,” Mark breathes, hand pressing against his beating heart. “I just finished lugging all of these boxes in here.” He gestured behind him. “Word to the wise, just a tip as a new member, working people to death isn’t a very sound recruiting strategy.”
Donghyuck frowns. “But we didn’t even have a meeting scheduled for today.”
“But Doyoung and Jungwoo said—” The words die on Mark’s lips as Donghyuck purses his own, desperately suppressing a smile.
“Those bastards lied to me!” Mark exclaims, running his hands through his wet hair in frustration.
Donghyuck steps further into the dim storage room, door swinging closed behind him and sets his own box down. “Yeah that sounds about right,” Donghyuck smirks, digging in his backpack and pulling out a filled water bottle. He shakes it around, the sound of the ice knocking against the canister and extends it towards Mark. “Water?”
Mark takes the bottle, unscrews the cap, and hovers it over his mouth, swallowing down the cold stream before handing it back to Donghyuck and wiping the sweat above his brow. There’s no point in being upset over something that’s already happened— although he’s no stranger to premeditated incidents for the future— and the water is as good of a peace offering as he’s going to get.
He watches as Donghyuck tilts his head back, lips wrapping around the spout of the bottle, throat bobbing up and down, and slivers of water slipping past his lips and dribbling down his chin. There’s nothing erotic about it at all, and yet Mark can’t stop watching Donghyuck’s every movement like a moth drawn to a brightly lit flame.
When he’s caught staring at Donghyuck for the second time since they’ve met, Mark doesn’t bother looking away, and unsurprisingly, neither does Donghyuck.
Donghyuck stares at Mark. He looks at him with unwavering eyes that makes sweat bead at Mark’s temple. His eyes a swirl of honey and cinnamon boring into Mark’s skin so hot that Mark’s sure he knows— there’s no way he doesn’t. He’s one hundred percent sure Donghyuck knows he’s been the subject of Mark’s wet dreams for up to two weeks now. He’s been the source of every fantasy, the cause for blood rushing to his cock, and the reason he comes so hard into his hands nearly every night. Donghyuck on his own is a force to be reckoned with, but in the fabric of Mark’s imaginative mind, Donghyuck is sin personified. He’s the epitome of carnal desires and Mark knows , Donghyuck knows.
“Are you a virgin by choice?” the words leave Donghyuck’s mouth in such a slow drawl that Mark’s taken off guard by how unprovoked and lackadaisical they sound.
Mark swallows. He’s still trying to figure that out himself. “Why do you ask?” He focuses on pushing the boxes against the back wall— turning them, rearranging them around if it gives him something to do with his eyes and hands.
“Just wondering,” Donghyuck lies and Mark knows it’s one. “I’ve seen you around with your friends before. Johnny and Jaehyun, right? They’re not exactly saints.”
“And you are?” Mark replies a bit hastily out of spite but immediately regrets it when he catches the curve of Donghyuck’s full lips in the stainless steel brackets of the shelves lining the wall.
“I never said that,” Donghyuck doesn’t sound offended, more intrigued and maybe it’s Mark’s alarm system that’s misfiring and completely unable to detect a true sense of danger, but the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end and his skin prickles with warmth as if the forming goosebumps sense another body getting closer to his.
There’s not much else he can do with the boxes so he stands slowly and reluctantly turns around to Donghyuck standing several inches closer than he was before, but still far enough to give Mark ample room to retreat if he wants.
Mark doesn’t move. Not an inch. Not a centimeter. After a moment, he actually has to remind himself to breathe— push a breath out and inhale in, calm yourself down — just to reclaim awareness of what’s going on around him.
“You look nervous,” Donghyuck comments, with those golden eyes raking down every inch of Mark’s person. “Do I make you nervous?” he says a second later in a lower octave.
Mark swallows hard and the dry, thickness of his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. “You’re unpredictable,” he decides on rather than openly admitting the truth. “I’m not exactly sure at what you’re thinking.”
It could all be a trick, a ploy, for all he knows. It just doesn’t register that the president of celibacy and sexual refrain could be flirting with him and setting his intention in the confines of the third-floor activities storage room. Everything about it feels raunchy— the dark lighting, the piles of disheveled boxes, and papers thrown haphazardly about, the supplies messily spread across each shelf. Everything in the room is as disorganized as Mark’s own thoughts, begging to be sorted into neat little buckets. Mark’s mind only needs to decipher between two categories: sex-related and non-sex-related, and in the middle is the very thin line that Donghyuck seems to straddle.
“I’m just trying to figure you out,” Donghuck admits, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip and inching forward. “Why are you in the abstinence club? You don’t seem to be the type.”
“And what type would that be?”
Donghyuck looks off to the side for the moment, sucks his teeth, and bears a mischievous grin that lights up his face even beneath the dim flickering bulb. “You know, reserved, shy, a person with morals.”
“I have plenty of morals,” Mark crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You make it sound like I’m some type of demon.”
Donghyuck snorts out a little laugh. “Relax. I’m just saying it’s hard for me to believe someone with friends like yours isn’t just as involved in sex. You know what they say, birds of a feather flock together.”
Mark rolls his eyes and levels Donghyuck with the most stable stare he can manage, all things considered. “That saying’s not true in the slightest. You’re not like your friends.”
Doyoung, from what Mark has seen, is a nervous wreck— a perfectionist if he’s ever seen one and a poster child for a Type A personality. He’s always going like the heart of a hummingbird— always busy and concerned with appearances and impressions. He’s class president, a member of the debate team (according to Jaehyun), and an avid academic with a sure thing guarantee of being valedictorian. Mark can’t see Donghyuck caring that much.
Jungwoo is the definition of meek. He’s definitely the textbook definition of what Donghyuck expects— reserved, shy, and a person with morals. It took up until a week ago for Mark to even notice Jungwoo had been in their grade, hell, even at their school. He doesn’t make splashes, doesn’t stand out, and barely makes a noise. Like most of the other students in the school, Jungwoo will probably phase-out of high school without a trace after graduation, becoming a somewhat familiar face in yearbook photos to those who truly didn’t know him and he was perfectly okay with that. Donghyuck’s very essence demands attention.
No, Donghyuck is nothing like his friends. He carries something about him, something that it’s hard for Mark to put his finger on. It’s a confidence, a sensuality, a heady deviance that makes the heart struggle between thumping out of its cage of flesh and rib bones and slowing to a devastating stop. Donghyuck controls the warmth of his eyes and the dark undertones. He knows the power of touch— the pads of his fingers can graze Mark’s skin with the minor jolts of electricity or he can sink his nails into the ripe flesh of Mark’s bicep, tearing away at his insides. His voice could go from light and playful, what most of the club— most of the school— sees from the elected president of the Abstinence Club. But, for Mark and for Mark only it seems, his voice is heavy and thick, tongue wet with intention.
Donghyuck is a different breed.
Mark doesn’t notice that the distance between them has closed and Donghyuck’s practically pressed against him, forcing Mark between him and the room wall. His face grows hot and he hopes it’s not as red as it feels, or at least that Donghyuck can’t see it in such bad lighting.
“You’re right,” Donghyuck toys with the fabric of Mark’s shirt, messing with the collar and straightening it into place. “You’re so right. I’m not like my friends.” He leans in so close that Mark can smell him— the distinctive scent of sweetness, faint vanilla, and warm brown sugar. “They’re prudes .”
Donghyuck pulls away from Mark’s ear and the expression on Mark’s face is enough to pull out a soft laugh from Donghyuck before he trails his hands down the expanse of Mark’s torso. Mark doesn’t feel surprised per se, it feels like something he knew or should’ve known. It feels like something he could’ve aptly pieced together given the context and all of the clues. Donghyuck is an open book and Mark could’ve easily highlighted his pages and read between the lines to deduce that someone like him is anything but innocent. It’s not an outright shock, but Mark is still at a loss for words when the indirect confession of his sexual partiality breathes the same air between them.
“Are you a virgin?” Donghyuck looks down between them before angling his head back up to stare deep within Mark’s dark eyes. “I promise I won’t tell.” A hand untucking Mark’s shirt from his pants, a hand popping the button of Mark’s slacks.
Mark’s hands feel clammy as he places them against the wall behind him. “I-I’m not lying,” he stutters out pathetically. “I’m actually a virgin, Donghyuck.”
Donghyuck clicks his tongue but the jesting that accompanied Jaehyun and Johnny doesn’t occur as Mark expects. Instead, Donghyuck’s pupils seem to blow wide in an ecstasy, irises darkening in wanton desire and lips parting as a small breath escapes.
“Are you religious?” Donghyuck asks. A hand beneath Mark’s shirt now— fingers dancing along his navel— and a hand dragging down the teeth of his pants’ zipper.
Mark can’t process the question in time to stop the small strangled noise that escapes his mouth. He’s straining hard in his boxers, and if Donghyuck’s hands wander down any further, he’s soon to be privy to that notion. Mark’s sure the tips of his ears have gone completely red at the thought by now, and he tries to repress the lame cry at how he probably looks like a flustered schoolboy right now.
“My parents are—” he starts with a breath before the sentence dies completely. “I believe in things.”
Donghyuck hums in understanding and Mark is grateful to not have to go too much into detail. “I’m the same way,” Donghyuck admits, pulling back the waistband of Mark’s boxers and releasing it with an audible snap against Mark’s skin. “Something tells me it’s not the reason you joined the club though.”
He’s right on the target and Mark affirms with a choking noise and a small nod.
“Do you find me attractive?” Donghyuck asks.
“Is this okay?” Donghyuck raises a brow and lowers his left hand into Mark’s underwear.
Another nod, this time, more firm and insistent.
“I don’t know your reasons for not having sex,” Donghyuck says, right hand up to Mark’s nipple now, thumb circling it lightly. “But even if you’re the kind of person that’s on the fence about it for whatever reason,” his left-hand circles Mark’s cock, “There are ways around it.”
It’s an invitation not like one Mark’s ever received, one he has no qualms about accepting.
“Isn’t it nice,” Doyoung asks again, wiggling his fingers in front of their faces.
Jaehun and Taeyong stare down at the thin silver band encircling the ring finger of his right hand with polarizing expressions. Taeyong, forever the one to wear his heart on his sleeve, purses his lips in search of the right words, while Jaehyun blinks, expression hardly moving away from disinterest.
“It’s something alright,” Jaehyun resolves to say, stretching his arm around Taeyong’s shoulders.
Mark stares too at the ring, unsure of how to react. Maybe he should laugh at the ridiculousness of it, or cry at the fact that the universe has presented yet another opportunity to embarrass him in front of his friends and peers. His mind is definitely in favor of the latter.
“What does the inscription say?” Mark clears his throat, dragging Doyoung’s attention away from the duo.
Doyoung pinches the ring between his index finger and thumb and turns it around until tiny cursive font is semi-visible. “It says ‘I will wait,’” Doyoung smiles fondly at the piece of jewelry like it’s a keepsake passed down from generation to generation. “It took a lot of fundraising on our part last year but I think it was all worth it.”
The ring invades Mark’s line of vision no matter where he looks, gleaming beneath the fluorescent lighting like a beacon, begging for everyone around to take notice of its meaning.
“Well, I think it’s cute,” Taeyong says finally with a nod. “It’s tasteful and it’s meaningful. What’s not to like? Can I buy one? I think it’d look good on me.”
Doyoung retracts his hand and cradles his fingers with his other hand, as if Taeyong admitted to a heinous crime. Doyoung’s wistful smile slowly dissolves, replaced by a defensive frown. “You can’t buy one,” he says pointedly. “You have to earn it.”
“Well, then how do I earn one?” Taeyong pouts.
Jaehyun coughs, arm falling down to his side. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already been disqualified from the basic requirements, Tae.” Taeyong’s brows furrow together and Jaehyun smooths his hand across his back. “But if it means that much to you I’ll get you one.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said you can’t just buy one,” Doyoung repeats.
“Yeah well, every discount jeweler and pawnshop within a five-mile radius says otherwise,” Jaehyun counters. “It’s just a ring. And not a very good one at that. It looks like the ones from those gumball machines that’ll leave the little green marks on your skin.”
Doyoung huffs and rolls his eyes, settling into crossed arms and a grimace. “I don’t care who you get it from. The sentiment won’t be the same as this one.” He turns back to face Mark. “I just came to let you know you can pick yours up today too.”
Mark blinks and he’s sure his eyes have widened to capacity if Doyoung’s stunned expression is any indication. “Mine? But, I didn’t— I wasn’t even a member last semester when you guys raised the money. I don’t deserve one.” Translation: I’m not sure I want to wear one— on my actual person.
Doyoung shrugs, seemingly ignoring the slow creeping panic manifesting across Mark’s neck in shades of crimson and rouge. “You’re apart of the club now and it’s still within the same academic year. Bylaws say every active member is owed one purity ring. Besides, we needed to spend some of our extra funding or the school will cut the amount in half for the club’s members next year.”
Doyoung’s admirable— far more so than Mark, more than he can ever aspire to be. Doyoung worries about the fate of an organization that he loses ties to once he crosses the stage, diploma in hand. He’s the type to return during annual alumni breakfasts and pokes his head into classes to relive the memories of his high school days. He cares about the club and his own sexual refrain. Mark can respect it— only because he can’t exactly mirror the same sentiment.
He’s not invested in high school or some the club no matter how much time is put into either. He doesn’t care about what happens to student funding once he leaves and he’s definitely not going out of his way to make changes that will no longer apply to him. But more than anything, he doesn’t deserve to wear a ring that means so much to Doyoung— that would mean so much to his parents and the other members of the club— when he’s been lip-locked and tongue-tied with Donghyuck for the past three Fridays since the storage closet incident. There is proof beyond a reasonable doubt that Mark’s mind is far from clean, but now, in a matter of a couple of weeks, his body has begun to slowly follow, all at the beck and call of one Lee Donghyuck.
“Don’t be coy, Mark ,” Jaehyun says with a lilt of amusement. “You’ve earned it. Wear your ring proud.”
“Or you can give it to me,” Taeyong offers.
Doyoung narrows his eyes at the couple, before specifically honing in on Taeyong. “Not a chance.”
“Look, there’s gotta be like, someone who wants more than one ring or someone that’s willing to take a second one,” Mark’s nails dig into the single strap of his backpack hanging on his shoulder. “I’m not that much of a jewelry person.”
“Wear it or don’t wear it,” Doyoung shrugs. “You still need to claim it.”
Mark sighs, shoulders sagging down and he outstretches his hand. “Fine, give it to me.”
“I don’t have it,” Doyoung says.
“Bylaw 2 article 5, section 7, line 1: all merchandise representing the club will be distributed by the president. No exceptions.”
And of course , Mark thinks, because what’s a better stroke to Donghyuck’s affinity for mischief and sexual provocation than Mark begging at his feet for a ring of chastity?
Without realizing it, Mark finds himself waiting outside one of the many senior-level English classrooms, hands deep in his pockets and rocking on the soles of his sneakers. He doesn’t remember how or when he moved towards the particular wing of the school, though he faintly remembers departing from Taeyong and Jaehyun as they went to find Johnny at their usual lunch table. He doesn’t even know how he knows this particular classroom is Donghyuck’s fourth-period class before the school breaks for the mandated one hour lunch period.
What he does know is the sound of Donghyuck’s laughter filtering out into the hallway as he crosses the door threshold, hands gripping the strap of his backpack. The guy next to him wears a proud smirk, one that lingers after a successfully landed joke, but Mark’s way too distracted by the tint of his pink hair to dwell on what the guy must’ve said to make Donghyuck smile so hard.
The pink-haired guy notices Mark first, footsteps faltering a few paces shy of the classroom and points his finger in his direction, prompting Donghyuck to angle his head around, eyebrow arched.
Mark feels ridiculous all of a sudden with both pair of eyes on him as he leans against the row of lockers and shifts to push off of them, hands finding the confines of his pockets. He hadn’t realized exactly how intimate it might come off— him waiting for Donghyuck outside of class— especially when the status of their... situationship is up in the air. For all Mark knows, the thing he has with Donghyuck— the kisses, the touching, the dirty words whispered in ears and sent explicitly through text messages— could be a dime a dozen with any other guy in school, pink-haired guy included.
Something about it burns in a way that Mark can’t outright explain, and the longer he lingers around, the more his mind screams for him to withdraw with his tails between his legs and pretend like he was waiting for someone else if prompted later. But then he sees it, a thin silver band shining on Donghyuck’s left hand, and remembers that he has a valid excuse— a scapegoat, if you will, that can save his ass in the face of any oncoming embarrassment.
Donghyuck doesn’t seem surprised, instead his eyebrows fall, expression transforming into one of smugness as he shifts his weight back against one leg. “Jaemin, I’ll catch up with you later. Club business, you know,” Donghyuck nods his head towards Mark and the latter tries to ignore just how much Donghyuck is downplaying their “business.”
Jaemin opens his mouth and nods with a certain realization before clapping his hands on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll see you in a bit. But, don’t wait too long. You know how Jeno gets.”
Donghyuck laughs, Jaemin laughs, but Mark doesn’t because he has no idea how Jeno gets or who Jeno even is, and there’s definitely a certain amount of jealousy that comes with not being in on the inside joke. He watches as Jaemin passes him on his way down the hallway, and returns the passing nod, eyes glued to his person until the pink hair is out of sight and out of mind.
Mark’s gaze returns to Donghyuck as he hears a small sigh slip past his lips and Donghyuck inches forward, stopping a couple of lockers down from him. He deftly unlocks the combination lock and swings the door open, stuffing his backpack inside, before leveling Mark with a knowing smirk that’s cocky and proud but still rouses a noise in the back of Mark’s throat.
“Now you’re waiting for me after class?” Donghyuck muses, digging through the contents of his locker. “I didn’t know you cared so much, Mark Lee.”
Mark scoffs and rolls his eyes but the humor isn’t unnoticed. It’s hard to stop his own mouth from turning up at the corners just from watching Donghyuck rearrange books and photos taped to the metal walls just to keep his hands busy. “I wasn’t waiting on you,” Mark says.
“Oh,” Donghyuck’s brow lifts again. “Then you just happened to be here, enjoying the scenery?”
“You know, you are such a little shit sometimes,” Mark laughs out, head falling backward and exhaling through his nose. “I didn’t come here for you, honestly.” Even the truth doesn’t feel like the truth when Mark says it and it lingers in the air between them. It feels like a lie— dirty and shameful, especially when the light leaves Donghyuck’s eyes, and Mark second-guesses which one of them is actually being honest.
“Okay then,” Donghyuck turns to face him, bracing his weight against the lockers, arms folded. “Don’t tell me you really are here for club business then?”
Mark points towards the band on Donghyuck’s hand. “I just came to get my ring.”
Donghyuck follows Mark’s finger to the piece of jewelry on his finger and snorts. “You actually want it? Just a couple of weeks ago you could barely step foot into the club and now you’re ready to wear the ring?”
“Doyoung made such a big deal about it,” Mark says with a shrug of his shoulders. “And I don’t have to wear it on my finger. I could, like, put it on a chain around my neck or something and tuck it into my shirt.”
“Oh I see, so you’re embarrassed about it.”
“What? No, it’s not that,” Mark holds his arms up in defense. “I just, I don’t feel right wearing it. I feel like I’m sending out mixed signals.”
Donghyuck clicks his tongue and reaches into his locker, pulling out a small white cardboard box, slightly crinkled at the corners and caving in from the pressure of his fingers. “Okay, I’ll give you the ring,” he says, but after a few passing seconds, he still doesn’t move.
“Dude,” Mark blinks. “You have to actually hand me the box.”
Donghyuck closes his locker with a loud slam that nearly jolts Mark out of his skin. He looks behind Mark, eyes surveying the area before landing back on him with a cheeky smile. “I will, but I wanna show you how to properly wear it first.”
It’s Mark’s turn to arch his brow now, dumbfounded and confused but pliant when Donghyuck wraps his arms around his wrists and tugs him down the back hallway to the stairwell. The heavy doors echo as they seal shut loudly behind them, the faint reverberations rising up several floors above them. The entire school is at the cafeteria on the other side of the building so the normally loud and creaking sounds of heavy feet against the metal steps in excited laughter and chatter are nonexistent.
The box is still in Donghyuck’s hand as he toys with it and Mark only watches on, still in the shadow of confusion of why he needs instructions on how to wear a ring, but he doesn’t dare complain out loud. He likes being in Donghyuck’s presence, and though it’s hard to admit, there’s a secret pleasure that builds in him from knowing Donghyuck chooses to linger around with him as opposed to going to lunch with his friends, especially when Mark can 100% say he’s doing the same. The actual words are lost somewhere in translation between them, but deep down, he’s sure they both know they enjoy each other’s company. Perhaps a bit too much.
“Well,” Mark prods. “Are you gonna give it to me now or what?”
Donghyuck clicks his tongue and opens the box, pulling out a shiny silver band unlike the one on his own finger. This ring is two to three times bigger, Mark notices, and has a sliver of encrusted jewels around the center, sans inscription. Donghyuck folds the small paper box into a tiny square and pockets it before placing the ring in the palm of Mark’s hand.
“Hyuck, I can’t wear this,” Mark inspects the ring, then meets Donghyuck’s dark eyes. “This is like, way too big.”
“No, it’s not,” Donghyuck shakes his head and licks his lips. “It’s just right.” Mark’s brows knit together looking between the ring and Donghyuck repeatedly until Donghyuck grows tired of waiting and snatches the ring back from Mark’s hands. “It’s not for your fingers, dummy,” he says, slowly pushing Mark against the wall. “It’s for your dick.”
A gargled choke catches in Mark’s throat as he looks down at Donghyuck. “What— why on earth did you buy me a cock ring?”
Donghyuck tilts his head to the side. “You’re the one unsure about wearing an actual ring. This way you can still wear something that represents restraint without anyone having to know.” He spins the metal ring around in his fingers a couple of times, voice dropping low. “Can I put it on you?”
“Like, now ?” Mark asks looking around the empty stairwell. “We’re in the middle of the stairwell.”
“Oh please, like anyone’s going to willingly come this way during lunch,” Donghyuck says, dragging his free hand— his left hand— down to unsnap the button of Mark’s pants. “I told you I wanna help you put it on. I wanna see how it looks on you.”
Mark sucks in a sharp breath and he knows, Donghyuck knows. Donghyuck is all too aware that just like that, with a few tawdry words and a few fingers grazing the skin right above his beltline, Mark is putty in his hands. He’s moldable dough ready to be stretched, shaped, pulled, and formed into anything Donghyuck desires.
Donghyuck drags the zipper of Mark’s pants down with his right hand, and tugs them down to his ankle by the belt loops. By impulse, Mark wants to reach for them and drag them back up, his mind buzzing at the fact that he’s very much indeed in a public space with his dick practically begging to be released from his boxers, but soon the transmission of that thought loses signal when he feels the skin of Donghyuck’s palm wrap around his hard cock.
Over the span of three weeks, Mark noticed a lot of little things about Donghyuck. He’s ambidextrous, with more effort and worth placed upon doing things in his dominant hand— the right one. But whenever doors are closed and Donghyuck seizes the opportunity to corner him in the activities storage room, or abandoned classrooms, or even that one time behind the locker room on the football field, Donghyuck uses his left hand to do his dirty deeds.
Call it a coincidence, but Mark picks up on the minutia. He’s taken and aced Latin two years in a row and knows that the language has a word for ‘left’ and all things to do with the left— sinister . It could be a happy perchance, but Donghyuck stokes his cock with his left hand, drags his thumb across the wet slit at the tip with his left hand, and spits into his left hand before rolling the palm around Mark’s weeping cock head, eyes dark and glazed, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.
Donghyuck is the definition of something sinister, something wicked. He’s a force you don’t see coming, hidden beneath the guile of pretty eyes and an even prettier smile. He’s a wicked sprite with a voice like dripping honey and words just as sticky, clinging to Mark’s skin with every whisper and every breath. Donghyuck knows how to play to his strengths— his sexuality, his sensualness, his defiance— and he knows it’s what keeps Mark waiting with bated breath.
Donghyuck works him over with his left hand, purity ring sitting on his left finger.
Just as Mark’s balls clench together, warning of his release closing in, Donghyuck lets go of his cock completely with a small laugh, peering up and smirking at the clear lines of frustration etched across Mark’s face.
“Hyuck,” Mark whines. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “You’re impatient today.”
“Lunch is only an hour long. You can’t toy with me all day.”
Donghyuck’s eyes alight with a challenge, as if to say ‘ You wanna bet ’ but Mark lets out the most pitiful noise and Donghyuck seems to show some sort of mercy on him. He slides the pretty cock ring down past the head of Mark’s cock, lingering it right beneath the glans, twirling it around and pressing it against the frenulum before easing it down towards the base. The metal sits tight against Mark’s skin, a little too tight for all the blood rushing to the area and soon it feels like if his dick gets any harder the metal band could fuse right onto his skin permanently.
He tries not to focus on it. On any of it. He can’t think about how bad he wants to come or how fucking sinful Donghyuck looks staring at his dick and layering light touches across the head. Instead, he focuses on the strong smell of the chipping paint from the wall behind him, the creaking of the pipes hidden between the walls and the ceiling, and refocusing his vision, which can’t seem to keep up with all of the overstimulation.
The distraction works, until it doesn’t— until Donghyuck sticks his wet tongue out of his mouth and flattens it against the skin of Mark’s balls, dragging it up towards the base of his cock until the tip touches the faux diamonds on the ring.
“Oh shit,” Mark breathes, nails scrambling for purchase into the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Donghyuck’s laugh comes out in light bursts before he repeats the action again this time, sucking one of his balls into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth and folding the flesh between the swirl of his tongue. He releases it with a slow and loud suck, the suction ringing throughout the hall and Mark’s dick strains even harder, weeping with precum, begging to spit across Donghyuck’s hands, mouth, and face.
“How does it feel?” Donghyuck asks moving back up the base and littering kisses around the cock ring.
“It feels—” Mark breathes out through his noses, nostrils flaring when Donghyuck’s tongue spreads flat against the vein spanning along the underside. “It feels like torture.”
Donghyuck hums, pulling away from Mark’s cock completely with an expression as fake as the sweet tone he musters up. “You mean you don’t like it?” he pouts. “I picked it out just for you.”
Mark goes against his thoughts of weaving his hands through the wavy locks of hair and spreading Donghyuck’s lips taut around his dick, instead, resorting to another miserable groan and forcing his own head against the wall.
“Hyuck, please ,” he says with exasperation. “I’m begging you.”
Donghyuck laughs out, eyes crinkling but hands refusing to move back towards Mark’s cock. “I’m on my knees but you’re the one begging?” he hums out. “Something does seem right about that.”
A cry forces its way out of Mark’s throat and he snaps his eyes closed to hide from the embarrassment of Donghyuck’s eyes on him. “I can make it up to, I swear just, fucking finish me, please.”
Donghyuck hums. “Only if you watch me while I do it.”
Mark’s eyes slowly open, half-lidded when he sees Donghyuck slowly palming himself through the fabric of his own jeans. The sight is enough for Mark to sink his teeth down into his bottom lip, suppressing the groan that’s building and releasing a small puff of air from his nose.
Donghyuck scoots forward on his knees and Mark wonders how raw and red they must look, rubbing against his jeans and the hard metal floor. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to be in any pain, or at least he doesn’t seem to mind it because before Mark can even question it, his hands are back around Mark’s cock, squeezing along the length.
“I can’t tell if you want me to hurry up because you wanna come,” Donghyuck drawls out, tongue flitting across the head quickly, “or because you don’t wanna get caught.” Mark stays effectively silent but heaves another hard breath. Donghyuck pinches the head between his fingers and massages along the glans in little circles. “Which one are you more worried about?” he asks. “Getting caught defiling the president of the purity club or getting caught with the president of the purity club?”
Somehow the question doesn’t feel rhetorical but Donghyuck doesn’t let him answer anyway. He widens his mouth, and engulfs Mark’s cock as far as he can take it until the wet head knocks against the back of his throat. Mark threads his hands in Donghyuck’s hair but doesn’t make any sudden movement that might steer him away from suckling on his cock. He resolves to rub comforting circles into Donghyuck’s scalp, trailing down to the sensitive spot behind his ears, and tugging lightly at his earlobe.
Donghyuck makes a sharp mewl that comes out watery and garbled around Mark’s cock and the noise echoing throughout the corridor sends tingles up Mark’s spine. Donghyuck bobs his head harder, each time Mark’s cock knocks against his throat, a garbled whine slips past his plush lips until globs of saliva force its way past the pulled corners of Donghyuck’s mouth and down the length of Mark’s cock.
Donghyuck pulls off of Mark’s length, batting the thin line of saliva connecting his lips to Mark’s dick with a single finger and rubbing away the tears threatening to prickle at the corner of his eyes. Mark can barely contain himself seeing Donghyuck in this light— wrecked, lips swollen and red, face soft and vulnerable. Donghyuck’s doing all of the work— is giving his complete and utter all to worshipping Mark’s cock and yet he looks like the one pulled through the wringer and wrung dry. Donghyuck watches his own saliva coursing down the expanse of Mark’s cock and licks his lips again, before daring to peak up at Mark.
“Are you close?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.
Mark wraps his hand around his cock, fingers brushing against the wet ring and giving himself a couple of quick strokes. “Yeah, fuck I’m so close.”
Donghyuck pushes Mark’s hands away and slides the metal ring off with quick dexterity, letting it clatter to the ground as he wraps his lips around the head again before bobbing up and down incessantly. The loud squelching and force of hot and wet saliva sheathing around his cock with each thrust, sends Mark over the threshold, gripping Donghyuck’s shoulders in warning and barely breathing out a hackneyed, “It’s coming, it’s coming” just loud enough for Donghyuck to hear.
Donghyuck doesn’t withdraw away like Mark expects or hopes. He rises up further on his knees, pushes a tad bit closer to Mark, and sinks further down his cock until his lips lie in place of the cock ring, a tight vacuum seal around the base with Mark’s tip aimed at the back of his throat.
“Shit!” Mark yells out as the nerves in his body fire off one by one, sending signals down to his toes, curling within his sneakers and his fingers gripping Donghyuck’s hair and releasing it at the onslaught of thick, white cream spilling over into Donghyuck’s mouth. His eyes glaze over and lips part as his chest desperately tries to catch up to the slow and sedated lull as the rest of his body.
Donghyuck gags a little, closes his eyes to control his breathing, and eventually pulls off slowly, leaving residual trails of spit and cum settling along Mark’s dick. When he gets to the tip, he presses a sticky glob of Mark’s cum from his tongue onto the reddened skin, before scooping it back into his mouth and swallowing down all traces of Mark’s essence.
Mark sinks slowly down the wall, but stops himself before he reaches the floor, angling his boxers and pants back up. Once planted firmly on the ground, he rests his head back against the wall and exhales a deep sigh, fingers twitching against his knees. He throws a glance towards Donghyuck as he wipes away the residual mess from along the corners of his mouth and picks up the discarded cock ring from the cold ground.
“You know,” Mark starts slowly, watching Donghyuck’s every move— tentative and slow. “I’m not embarrassed of...this, if that’s what you were hinting at earlier.”
Donghyuck’s fingers stutter along the expanse of the ring but he moves, slowly, to sit next to Mark, back pushed against the wall and knees pulled into his chest. “I wasn’t hinting at that. It was just dirty talk, Mark.”
“Oh,” Mark says and moves to stare at the adjacent wall in front of them, littered with penciled in drawings and permanent marker sketchings.
The silence between them is unnerving, especially because usually the moments following a heated makeout session are filled with lighthearted jokes and conversations about classes. But this isn’t anything like their regularly scheduled makeout sessions on a Friday afternoon. Mark is sated and Donghyuck had his dick in his mouth, not more than minutes ago, on a Wednesday , during lunch. It’s a break from the tradition of things, one Mark doesn’t mind, but it’s certainly not where he foresaw things going. Not that he’s complaining in the slightest.
“You’re not—” Donghyuck starts, then shakes his head as if he thinks better of it.
“No, no,” Mark says, sitting up straighter. “What were you gonna say?”
Donghyuck sighs out and worries his bottom lip between his teeth, refusing to meet Mark’s stare no matter how hard and penetrating it is. “So, you really don’t care, hypothetically, if people knew about us?”
Ah. Mark twists his mouth and takes a moment to find the right words. Donghyuck’s voice is delicate and soft, free of all mischief and his Cheshire ways and replaced with something more demure and timid. His skin paints a sanguine flush across his cheeks and nose, one that matches the swell of lips, and Mark’s sure it has less to do with the heat of the moment and more to do with the nature of what Donghyuck is really asking.
“Well, that depends,” Mark says finally, locking his fingers together in front of him. “You’re really asking two questions there, Hyuck. The first one, depends on the second one, and the second one is really asking ‘what exactly are we?’” Mark looks back at Donghyuck in earnest.
Donghyuck releases his lip and sucks in a breath, but before he answers Mark holds up a hand, effectively pushing him back into silence.
“Before you answer though, I just wanna let you know that I’m not pressuring you into anything,” Mark says, face moved towards seriousness. “This can be whatever you want it to be. I just think you’re like, a really cool person to be around, and I wanna be around you.”
And Donghyuck finally looks at him, with eyes not dark with lust like Mark’s accustomed to, but light and hopeful and shining like the sun. His eyes hold all of the sun’s rays and command attention, directing Mark to face him and his glory like a wild field of sunflowers basking in warmth. Somehow in the span of only a couple of weeks, Donghyuck became a source of warmth for Mark. He became a lover, someone to dote on and unleash all of his pent up sexual energy onto, but he also became a friend, someone that Mark hadn’t realized he was willing to hold on to. Donghyuck is Mark’s own personal sun, just within arms reach to touch.
“I wanna be around you too,” Donghyuck says, finally resting his chin on his knees. “And I think it’s easier if we don’t think about everything else. Let’s just enjoy being with each other okay?”
Mark smiles. “Okay.”
Before they leave, Donghyuck complains repeatedly as Mark uses the random pencil he finds in the stairwell to draw a small H and an M on the wall with a tiny star in between.
And when he thinks Mark isn’t looking, Donghyuck erases the star and draws in a little heart.
With his right hand.
The Friday afternoon meeting is cut short by the first football game of the spring semester. All of the members made plans of attending the game with alternate plans of “wholesome” activities that could be done afterward as opposed to the often liquored up, sex-filled house parties most of the seniors attended post-game.
The idea of reserving a table at a local cafe and playing board games all night doesn’t appeal to Mark any more than the idea of sharing the same bottle of smuggled vodka from someone’s father’s liquor cabinet, but Mark relents, simply because Donghyuck assures him a good time. Johnny and Jaehyun don’t boggle him for excuses of why he’s bailing on another party this time— they’re both too concerned with winning the game to even care about the fact that their best friend is flaking once again. Or to notice the litter of purplish hickeys forming just beneath his collar bone.
The outdoor stadium is alive at seven o’clock, loud with the rumble of feet ascending and descending the metal stands and fans shouting out chants, giving applause, and the occasional boo when the away team scores. The air is salty from the dozens of bags of popcorn floating around and the bright field lights cast a sickly white glow on everything exposed to the stadium. So it’s only a mild surprise when thirty minutes into the game, Donghyuck pulls Mark away from Taeyong’s side, with complaints of “club business” (their motto for: I need to get off right now) and drags him down past several huddled bodies to a darkened corner beneath the bleachers. Mark startles at the sound of loud stomping feet above them and peeks between the gaps of before giving Donghyuck an astonished look.
“I know I said I’d repay you but I am not sucking you off underneath people’s feet, Hyuck,” he says.
Donghyuck rolls his eyes and shrugs off his jacket spreading it flat against the grass. “You’re such a baby,” he replies. “I’m the one that’s the president of the club. There’s no reason I should be more sexually open than you are.”
“I agree. Maybe you should consider resigning then.” Mark jokes and pouts when Donghyuck hits him on his knee. “Yo! That shit hurts!”
“Stop whining,” Donghyuck huffs, grabbing Mark’s hand and pulling him down atop the jacket and straddling him. He angles the cap on Mark’s head backward, moving the brim out of the way and lands a sloppy kiss upon Mark’s lips, frantic and needy.
Donghyuck tastes like the salted popcorn and a tad bit sweet like the cherry slush Mark spied him drinking earlier. The tastes linger on his tongue as they battle for dominance over each other, with Donghyuck eventually coming out the victor as usual.
When they break for breath, Mark leans back on his forearms and stares up at Donghyuck as he licks the taste of Mark off his lips. “You realize there are people right above us, right?” Mark tries again. “They’re walking around, going in and out of the stadium. We can easily be found.”
A slow grin creeps onto Donghyuck’s face. “But you like that don’t you?”
Mark cocks his head to the side and breathes out a short laugh. “What?”
Donghyuck leans forward to plant his hands on either side Mark, fingers wedging into the soft earth. “You like the idea of getting caught.” The bubble of a new laugh dies in Mark’s throat prematurely and a sputtering cough filters out, so hard and violent that Donghyuck has to pat him on the back. “Jesus, Mark. Breathe .”
“You can’t just say shit like that,” Mark wraps a hand around his own neck, soothing the skin there. “Someone might hear you!”
Donghyuck kisses the spot near Mark’s ear, tongue flicking against his earlobe and whispers, “ But that’s part of the fun isn’t it?” He leans back to meet Mark’s gaze and smiles when Mark’s iris and pupils blend into one dark, and thick color, blown and longing. “You want people to know about your secret. A member of the club getting his dick wet in the dirt behind the bleachers, and with the president no less.” Donghyuck drags his fingers up to caress Mark’s cheeks. “I think I’ve figured you out, Mark Lee. You get off to doing things you’re not supposed to do. It would explain why you’re so into me, because I go against everything I represent, and that excites you. I’m right, right?”
Mark sucks in a breath. Something in him has taken notice of everything Donghyuck mentions. There’s a thrill in knowing his parents don’t exactly know about the things he’s up to in the celibacy club, or that his best friends aren’t exactly observant of the recent changes in him, like blotchy bruised skin and frantically scrambling to hide the screen of his cell phone whenever one of them breaches too close (Donghyuck’s no stranger to sexting, even during school hours). He never dwelled on them too long, these things appearing seemingly insignificant but it all makes perfect sense. Donghyuck is a risk and rebellion, two things Mark’s never been privy to a day in his life.
“I’m so right,” Donghyuck smirks but, quickly yelps as Mark flips him over onto his back, dragging him closer to meet his hips.
“Do you want to keep talking?” Mark murmurs, hands gripping Donghyuck by the thighs.
“Hell yeah. I want you to admit I’m right.”
Mark lifts Donghyuck’s legs and wraps them around his waist, leaning close enough for his lips to brush against Donghyuck’s. “Here you are,” he says, pushing his hips against Donghyuck’s, aligning their clothed cocks together, “trying to prove a point, when just a moment ago you wanted nothing more than to be under me.” He brings their hips together in a delicious friction, and a swell of pride bubbles in his chest when Donghyuck’s breath turns shallow and a low moan escapes.
“I’m a firm believer that I can have my cake and eat it too,” Donghyuck mumbles, back arching as Mark ruts against his dick again. The whine that emits from him is cute enough that Mark wishes he could record the audio on his phone and listen to it over and over again.
Mark hums, burying his face in the exposed skin of Donghyuck’s neck, fingers gripping into his small frame and hoisting Donghyuck’s hips up into his own in search of more relief. All of the sounds in the background fade into oblivion in favor of Donghyuck’s breathing and panting. The whispered chants of Mark’s name leaving his mouth over and over seem to supersede the thunderous fanfare of the marching band playing and the fans hollering at the result of another play. The bleachers rumble above them, a telltale sign of people climbing down, probably in search of more concessions or the restroom, but the fear of getting caught disappears in Mark’s mind. As far as he’s concerned, anyone could show up at this very moment and nothing— absolutely nothing— would stop him from driving his hips into Donghyuck’s crotch, pressing his dick flush against Donghyuck’s own, separated between thick denim.
“Wait, wait,” Donghyuck whispers causing Mark to lift his head in concern. Donghyuck reaches his hand in between them, unfastens the buttons of their pants, and fishes out both of their hardened cocks, Donghyuck’s covered in sticky precum and threatening to spew more along his fingers. “Wanna feel you,” Donghyuck lies back and tightens his legs around Mark’s waist to pull him forward.
Mark lets out a guttural groan and slots his mouth against Donghyuck’s in a languid kiss, hot and wet, with strings of saliva breaking with every flick of the tongue. The sounds of their smacking lips mix in with another round of cheers, the crowd moving to stand up and jump in excitement.
“And ladies and gentlemen, number 29, Johnny Seo has caught the ball and is heading straight for a touchdown!”
“Fuck!” Donghyuck whines in Mark’s mouth as his hips pick up, their cocks rubbing against each other raw and red. Mark breaks the kiss to spit in the palm of his hand, slathering it along both of their cocks before dragging the head of his dick against Donghyuck’s balls.
The uproar from the stadium grows louder and louder each time Mark ruts his hips, slots his cock over Donghyuck’s, and triggers another spurt of precome from Donghyuck’s weep cockhead. At some point, their fingers lock together, sealed into place like the pieces of a puzzle, and the metal of their matching rings (Mark finally receiving his hours after the stairwell incident) clink each time Mark pushes Donghyuck further into the ground.
“ He’s at the 30-”
Mark wraps his hand around their cocks, tongue pressing against the ball of Donghyuck’s throat.
“ The 20-”
His lips suck a prickling bruise onto the thin skin as his hands move faster and faster until he can barely make out the outlines of his fingers and knuckles.
“ The 10!”
“Markmarkmark!” Donghyuck shouts edging away from the building pressure only for Mark to drag him back into place by his hips, never slowing the force of his hand.
“TOUCHDOWN! And number 29 Johnny Seo has pushed the home team up six points, putting them just ahead of the away team right at half time, folks.”
Donghyuck comes in shudders, shoulders rolling back and body trembling as his cum clings to Mark’s fingers for dear life, He blows a breath that ruffles the bangs in his face, cheeks tinted pink. “Did you finish?”
Mark shakes head, taking a swipe of Donghyuck’s cum from his index finger on his tongue before wiping his hand against the faux field grass and fastening Donghyuck’s pants. “Nah,” he says. “Next time.”
“No,” Donghyuck grabs his forearm to stop Mark from standing up. “I want you to finish.” His chest rises and lips part. “ Please .”
Mark’s dick is still impossibly hard and the image of Donghyuck pink tongue darting out of his mouth, lips parted wide in invitation is too good to pass up.
Looking around at the moving bodies leaving the stands for the half time intermission, Mark moves to straddle Donghyuck at his head, fisting his cock in his sticky hand. “Okay,” he breathes. “But really quick. Open.” He uses his free hand to pull down Donghyuck’s bottom lip with his thumb groaning when a sliver of saliva slides across Donghyuck’s pink tongue.
He’s too invested in it, all of the overstimulation has his mind running rampant, and his veins filled with a level of adrenaline that doesn’t feel humanly possible. But there’s no amount of hormone-induced satiation that can make Mark imagine the image of Taeyong watching them near the hidden entrance beneath the bleachers. Taeyong is frozen in his position, as if he’s only arrived, and is unsure what to do with his eyes when they lock on to Mark’s, but the fluster that flashes across Taeyong’s face is as red as the blood rushing to Mark’s cock, and a spurt of precum lands on Donghyuck’s cheek.
“Shit! Taeyong!” Mark whines in an attempt to cover himself and Taeyong snaps back to reality, quickly covering his eyes with his hand and muttering out a rushed apology.
Donghyuck lifts his head back to stare at Taeyong still lingering near the opening (Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s still frozen in shock or if he’s standing guard now) before drawing his eyes back to Mark’s, mouth still pliant and waiting.
“No,” Donghyuck says, softly. “Let him watch.”
“What?” Mark sputters, halfway into tucking himself back into his boxers.
The foxy glint in Donghyiuck’s eyes shines even in the dark shadows beneath the bleachers and he slowly pushes Mark’s hands away from his own boxers, pulling his still hardened cock back out. “Let him watch. It’s what you like, right? Being caught, red-handed?”
Mark doesn’t exactly argue against the accusation but it’s Taeyong , his best friends’ boyfriend and his friend by association. Things can go from weird to uncomfortable in the matter of minutes if Taeyong’s repulse leads to a very awkward confrontation from Johnny and Jaehyun. But with all things considered, Taeyongs still lingers near the opening, fingers hesitantly spreading apart just small enough for him to peek through even when he thinks Mark doesn’t notices.
Mark grips himself into his hand again, bracing forward on his other one and angling his cock back towards Donghyuck’s mouth. His eyes move from Donghyuck’s encouraging gaze to Taeyong, still hesitant about whether or not he should leave or stay, if his stance is any indication.
“Tae,” Mark grunts out with a stroke, scraping his nail lightly against the thin skin right below his cockhead. “Fuck, Tae, look at me.”
Taeyong bites his lip and just as slowly, drops his hand back to his side, eyes locked on to Mark and a deep exhale slumping his shoulders. Mark groans, licks his lips and moves his hand faster across his dick, a small ‘ah’ falling out of his mouth when a glob of precum drips down, painting Donghyuck’s skin.
“See,” Donghyuck coos. “You do like the risk.”
Mark pushes his tongue out of his mouth and wipes the sweat beading across his forehead. He’s not sure who to focus on— Donghyuck, beneath him, edging him closer and closer to an inevitable climax, or Taeyong, whose wide eyes won’t leave the skin of his throbbing cock. Either way, Mark feels good. He feels attractive, and wanted. He feels so close, so close that every cell that makes up his body is on fire with want— pushing him closer and closer, until—
“Fuck!” Mark breathes as a thick spurt of cum squirts onto Donghyuck’s waiting tongue, some of it landing on his lips and nose. Donghyuck lets out a small whimper and shivers as Mark rubs the wet tip across his lips, wiping the excess off his cockhead.
When Mark looks back up, Taeyong is long gone and the racing in Mark’s chest won’t let him process his feelings about exactly what just happened. Donghyuck looks satisfied and sated as always and deep down Mark can confirm that against all of his previous notions, following Donghyuck below the bleachers had been a good idea.
He just hopes he doesn’t get murdered for it.
Twenty minutes later, after Mark’s cleaned himself up in the bathrooms and Donghyuck has returned to his own group of friends, Mark slides back into his seat next to Taeyong, carrying an array of overpriced snacks from the concession stand.
Taeyong doesn’t look at him for several minutes, even after the whistle signaling the end of halftime and the resumption of the game. It’s somewhere in the middle of the third quarter, right when Mark’s anxiety has quelled and he’s calming down into that sweet blissful state of ‘ if we don’t talk about it, it never happened,’ Taeyong looks over at him.
“So,” Taeyong says, reaching for a tortilla chip from Mark’s plate of nachos and scooping up a gob of cheese. “That was something.”
“What? The play?” Mark swallows down a fistful of nachos. “Yeah, I mean, I know Johnny’s been practicing like crazy lately, but I didn’t know he’d gotten like, this good, you know? And Jaehyun’s so quick. He has the ball out of his hands before I can even keep track of it.”
“That’s not what I was talking about,” Taeyong hums, inching closer and grabbing another chip. “I’m talking about you fucking Lee Donghyuck in the mouth during half time.”
Mark hacks up a cough for the second time that night and Taeyong picks up the soda waiting by Mark’s foot, pushes the straw in the cup, and hands it over to him. Mark gulps the drink back without restraint, setting the cup back into his place and tries to come off as unfazed as possible, eyes fixating back on the game, but even he can see his own hands trembling as he brings another chip to his mouth.
“So that’s what you meant every time you guys said you had “club business” to attend to?” Taeyong prods, voice low enough for discretion.
Mark swallows down and thinks it best to keep his eyes focused on counting the numbers on player jerseys. “It’s...complicated.” he resolves.
“I’m sure it is,” Taeyong snorts. “Nothing’s more complicated than fucking Lee Donghyuck.”
Mark whips his head to look at Taeyong, fastening his hand across his mouth. “Tae please,” he whines. “Don’t say that out loud. We’re not...fucking.” He hesitates but reluctantly draws his hand back. “I mean, technically we’re not. Nothing’s...penetrated so it’s not— we’re breaking a rule or anything.”
Taeyong rests his elbow on his knee and places his chin in the upturned palm of his hand. “So you two are dating then?”
“We’re...seeing each other. There’s not really a title to it.”
“But you’re friendly?”
“Friendly enough to come in his mouth?”
Mark shoots Taeyong another glare, but he only laughs in response, eyes finding amusement in the situation. “Tae, please. I’m trying to watch the game.”
Taeyong hums, and turns his attention towards the game for a couple minutes, eyes honing in on Jaehyun launching the ball across the field. “I don’t know why you’re so flustered about it,” he says, finally causing Mark to look at him from his periphery. “I think you two make a cute couple.”
Mark pauses, straw at his lips. “You do?”
Taeyong nods. “He definitely balances your uptightness.”
“My pleasure,” Taeyong smirks and angles his body away from Mark, placing full focus on the game. “But next time you want a third for your little sexcapades, just know that I’m no voyeur. I’m a straight-up exhibitionist.” Taeyong pinches the skin beneath Mark’s chin.
“Oh God, gross,” Mark whines. “Don’t even put that thought in my head. I don’t wanna know where Jaehyun or Johnny’s ass has been around this city.”
“Mm think closer,” Taeyong hums. “Think more local .”
Taeyong laughs, bumping Mark’s shoulders with his own before stealing the box of gummy candy unopened on Mark’s lap. Mark cradles the near-empty drink cup in both of his hands, palm wet front the cold condensation brimming the outside, before looking at his friend again.
“You’re not gonna, like, mention this to Johnny or Jaehyun are you?” he asks, voice laced with worry.
Taeyong pops a gummy in his mouth and chews slowly savoring the taste so long that Mark isn’t sure he’s even heard the question, but after a swallow, he says. “Of course not. But, I don’t think it would matter if I did. They’re your friends and me walking in on you turning Donghyuck into your own personal cum bucket is the least of their concerns. Although, I’d love to rub it in their faces that you’re an absolute true bonafide freak.”
A throat clears behind them, and they angle around sending apologetic looks to an older woman with a frown permanently etched on her face.
“Can you not be so loud,” Mark whines, burying his face in his hand.
“Fine, we’ll just drop the conversation entirely,” Taeyong relents. “But I am going to talk to Doyoung first thing Monday morning, because there’s no way in hell I’m not getting a ring if you and Donghyuck are doing that.”
Mark doesn’t bother to lift his head from his hand, but rather extends his ring finger towards Taeyong. “Just take it already.”
It’s not like there’s anything pure left about him anyway.
After the game, the Abstinence Club reserves the table at the local cafe as planned and runs through several games of Monopoly and UNO, and runs up a high bill that’ll set Mark back weeks in allowance. But it’s fun, just as Donghyuck promises.
He comes to learn just how funny Jungwoo is when his walls are down and how witty Doyoung can be when he’s outside of school. Even Jaemin and Jeno (who Mark comes to find out have been Donghyuck’s closest friends since before they were even potty trained) stops by and recants a plethora of embarrassing stories about Donghyuck in elementary and middle school. The whole time Mark feels the press of Donghyuck’s hand comfortable against his thigh beneath the table and the slow and subtle way he inches closer into his side as the night progresses.
It’s Doyoung, of course, that notices Mark’s missing ring, obvious from the faded skin encircling his finger.
“I lost it,” Mark scratches his head sheepishly, averting his eyes to the watermelon smoothie before him.
“Don’t worry,” Donghyuck pats Mark’s shoulders, lips curling into a grin. “I have a backup.”
“Soooo,” Johnny draws out from his desk adjacent to Mark’s. Their mid-morning Calculus class has barely filled, some students still lingering in the hallway before the final bell rings, and unceremoniously, Johnny isn’t one of them. “You’ve been pretty MIA lately.”
Mark looks up from scribbling down half-assed answers on the homework worksheet. “What do you mean?”
Johnny drums his fingers on the desk, before sliding his own worksheet over for Mark to copy, the latter sending a silent prayer of appreciation and resuming to scribble fiercely. “I mean, usually Jaehyun and I are busy, you know, with practice and such. It’s normal to only see you at lunch and in passing then. But, football season ended back in March and we still don’t see you.” He twists his mouth to the side. “Sometimes we don’t even know if you’re at school on odd schedule days when we don’t have classes together.”
Mark looks between his worksheet and Johnny’s, groaning at the obvious similarities and crosses out a few correct answers. He doesn’t need a perfect grade. He just needs it to be believable, and there’s no way Mark Lee’s scoring a perfect score on a calculus assignment without the help of Google, YouTube, or one Johnny Seo.
“Sorry man,” Mark says, half-listening as he slides Johnny’s worksheet back over to him. “I’ve been busy. You know, college applications, school work, Abstinence Club. And you know I’ve been working on weekends now at my dad’s store.”
Johnny frowns. “What? You didn’t tell me you started working at the book store.”
Mark pauses. That’s right. He must’ve told Donghyuck instead.
“Oh,” he says slowly. “I guess I forgot to mention it.”
Johnny nods, eyebrows still knitted together. “And do you think this slip of the mind may be because you’re hiding something?”
Mark’s eyes widened and his fingers graze the ballpoint of the pen in his hand, smearing black ink across the pads of his fingers. He swears under his breath, and tries rubbing the ink off but only spreads a streaky stain across the formerly pristine homework sheet. Now it looks like a Mark Lee original for sure.
"Hiding something?" Mark lifts a brow, though his eyes are still glued to the mess of a worksheet in front of him. "What could I possibly be hiding? You know, I suck at secrets."
"I do know," Johnny leans forward, arms crossed and pressed against the desk. "Which is why I know you're acting weirder than usual. You're super secretive-- you don't even show me things on your phone anymore and you're strangely invested in this Abstinence Club thing now. More so than you originally planned and definitely more than any of us thought you'd be."
A pang of guilt hits Mark and he moves his hands to rest folded in his lap. So maybe he's been more than a little fixated on Donghyuck lately. Weeks have come and gone faster than he anticipated and Donghyuck quickly became a mainstay— a commonplace — in his life. He didn't mean to slowly push away Johnny and Jaehyun in the process, but soon it grew harder and harder to juggle the act of a double life.
At home, Mark Lee is still the prodigal son that parents want their kids to bring home. He does his chores, does what he's told, and due to admitted horrors of the past, attends church every Sunday. His parents garnered a new level of trust allowing him the responsibility of working in his father's small bookstore for a considerable amount of pocket change and promises of a car if he graduates and makes it into a top tier college. It's an offer he'd be stupid to pass on.
At school, Mark is a bunch of things to a bunch of people. Some see him as the newest member of the Abstinence Club, but a guy that's way too down to earth and open-minded to have a stick up his ass. He's the friend to Johnny and Jaehyun, well known and well-liked personas and by association, others have moved to speaking to him in the hallways and extending invitations to him for events, sans Johnny or Jaehyun (it is a little hard to bear the disappointment when he turns them down, but it's still nice to be thought of again).
But with Hyuck, Mark feels most like himself, completely free to say and think what he wants without judgment or guilt. Donghyuck is understanding— not that Johnny and Jaehyun aren't, but it's a different kind of comfort that comes with being in the presence of someone so uninhibited in every single way.
And sure, maybe he's a little whipped when Donghyuck knows just the right ways to use his mouth on the sensitive skin right below Mark's clavicle.
"They're actually really cool people," Mark breathes out as more of their classmates filter in. "It's not like a 'let's shame people' kind of organization it's...chill."
"So chill that you and Donghyuck seem to be attached at the hips nowadays," Johnny comments.
Mark tries not to get too worked up at the mention of Donghyuck's name, knowing the cherry flush creeping up the back of his neck may be a dead giveaway-- an admission of guilt. He refocuses his attention on the front of the class, expression perking up as Jungwoo walks in, head nearly glued to the ground but lifting momentarily to offer Mark a genuine smile and a small wave before taking his seat across the room.
"Yo. Mark," Johnny interrupts his train of thought again clapping his hand on Mark's shoulder and nearly jolting him out of his seat. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah, I am," Mark lies.
Johnny frowns. "Then why haven't you responded to what I just said?"
"About Lee Donghyuck ," Johnny grouts out in frustration. "Is something going on between the two of you?"
Mark fidgets with the pen again, tapping away on the desk. "He's...we're close , if that's what you mean?"
Mark sighs and sinks down into his seat, head hanging back. "Yo, what's up with the third degree all of a sudden? You're acting like you're in love with me or something."
Johnny drags his arms off of his desk and leans back into his own seat. "Maybe I am. It seems like that's the only way to get your attention these days."
Mark meets his best friend's eyes and sighs, dragging his hands across his face. "Look, Johnny-"
"Okay class," the teacher chimes with feigned enthusiasm, right on time as the final bell rings, closing the classroom door and making his way towards the dry erase board. "Pass your homework forward and take one of these worksheets and pass them around. Today we're going to work on derivatives."
Mark's words die in his throat as Johnny turns straight, passing his homework forward. The guilt is alive and well in his stomach.
Second-floor bathroom, fourth stall.
The phone nearly slips out of Mark’s palmy hands when he reads the message in the middle of class. If his teacher thinks he’s being extra fidgety, he doesn’t make a comment, simply ignoring the sudden sound of a shifting chair and desk, and returning to writing equations on the dry erase board.
Mark stares at the message again mouth drying and heart racing. The collar of his shirt feels tighter around his neck, a vice-like grip around his throat stopping the hard swallow he tries to force down in anticipation. His throat grows irritated and weary of suppressing his excitement and constricts on its own, forcing out a loud and obnoxious cough that draws the attention of nearly everyone in the classroom.
Johnny looks up from his worksheet beside him, thick brows high and curious but Mark ignores the gaze in favor of addressing his teacher’s annoyed sigh.
“Mark Lee,” he says, arms drifting to fold across his chest, and equations long forgotten. “Is there a reason you’re so distracted today?”
Mark can list several reasons. He can count them on his fingers, kick off his favorite pair of sneakers, and tick them off his toes. There are many reasons that his mouth goes dry in the middle of the morning and his pants grow a little tighter than what he’s sure they were when he pulled them on.
He’s just sure that no one will ever believe that every single one of those reasons involves the president of the Abstinence Club.
“I,” he swallows down another building cough. “I just, need to go to the bathroom, for a bit.”
Johnny eyes him suspiciously, hands slowing to a stop, pen lingering between his fingers but Mark pretends he doesn't notice it, eyes fixed on the teacher's expression.
His teacher lets out a less than impressed sigh and nods towards the door, muttering out explanations of differentials when Mark reaches the front of the class and skitters out the door.
He’s so glad he left his backpack in his locker. Something tells him he won’t be coming back before the bell rings.
On my way
“Hyuck,” he whispers when the door swings closed behind him. The plumbing wheezes and groans, a couple of the sinks drip asynchronously, but no one replies. There isn’t so much as even a groan.
Mark blinks, squats down to his haunches, and angles his head for a clear view beneath all five stalls. Empty.
He pulls his cellphone out of his back pocket and pulls up the original text message just to make sure he's read it correctly, and sure enough the instructions are the same. He sighs and shakes his head, bracing himself against the wall near the sinks. It's just like Donghyuck to orchestrate a plan only to get trapped in class. They've joked several times about how the one thing Mark loves and admires about him (complete and utter recklessness) is also his one major character flaw, often leading to a series of punishable incidents on Donghyuck's end and a bunch of miscommunication on their end— present situation included. There's not much Mark can do but wait around, he decides. If he goes back to class and Hyuck manages to escape, there's no way his own teacher will buy the coughing story twice. Not when it's so close to fourth period and Mark hasn't even put a dent in his classwork. It's way easier to just wait it off, fingers and legs crossed that Donghyuck hasn't planned for spontaneity prematurely.
His mind drifts back to Johnny and the pang of guilt resurfaces. A part of him wants to point out the selfishness in his friend's words. When Taeyong came into the picture Mark never made either of his friends feel guilty about the lack of time spent together, and it was because Mark understood the need to have everything in separate buckets: family, friends, school, relationships.
But it'd be unfair for him to wave that in Johnny's face because the fact of the matter is, Johnny and Jaehyun tried to keep Mark involved when their trio became a quartet. They always invited him to things, even when they knew the likelihood of Mark accepting would be low. They always ate lunch with him and even when they both had practice late until the evening, they always vowed to give Mark a ride home as long as he was willing to wait around. Mark can't say the same type of consideration has been reciprocated on his behalf.
Most of his lunch days are spent eating with Donghyuck and the rest of the club members or eating with Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno. And on the rare occasion that Donghyuck is actually busy— making up a test or staying back late to finish an assignment— Mark resolves to hang out with Doyoung and Jungwoo, making plans for the club. The idea of returning to his old roots and seeking out his old friends at their regular lunch table, flitted through his mind a couple of times but, the idea of walking on eggshells just to avoid the things he's been hiding over the last couple of months was far too daunting for him to ever follow through.
It's his own fault, really. There's nothing really to hide.
But people talk, and people speculate. The idea of his involvement with the Abstinence Club being a complete farce (due to ineligibility) ruining his chance of making it to an actual university is definitely a concern of his, but just as big is the concern of Donghyuck's reputation. All of it is a "worse possible case scenario" kind of thing, and though they haven't actually had sex (technically) their recklessness is enough to create the kind of rumors you never live down. And Mark couldn't bear being the cause of that.
Wrap that all up with the neat little bow tying in the fact that he still isn't quite sure what the status of his and Donghyuck's relationship is, and you’ve got one beautifully polished pile of shit, that is Mark Lee's life.
And that’s excluding the additional pile of shit he’s bound to be knee-deep in if his mom catches whiff of what he's been up to these days.
His phone vibrates in his hand again and he opens the pop up of Donghyuck's message.
Well, did you see it yet?
Mark frowns and looks towards the fourth stall. See what , he thinks? He's terrified of what he might find, especially since he's come to the realization that it's something he's looking for, not someone . What if someone managed to make it to the bathroom before he did and discovered whatever it is that Donghyuck has left him? No one's entered the bathroom within the last ten minutes but that's not to say someone couldn't have come by minutes before him. His mouth goes dry as he pushes into the stall, and slides the lock in place behind him.
He sits on the toilet and stares at the faded green stall walls surrounding him as if the answer is bound to leap out at any minute. Instead it’s just him, sitting in an empty bathroom stall. His eyes scan the area surrounding the toilet until landing on the small metal trash can attached to the stall wall. He flips the lid open and sure enough, there’s a brown paper bag inside, folded shut and sealed with two wispy strands of tape. He pulls the bag out and delicately unwraps it, pulling out a black cylinder.
Mark flips the cylinder over and his breath hitches.
Oh my fucking God.
The opposite end is rounded like a dome, molded from flesh-colored silicone with puffy lips flowering out. Mark stares at the object, a little shocked at the realization that Donghyuck’s gifted him a fleshlight but even more surprised by the fact the silicone is warm to the touch, almost as if it’s been used.
Mark’s tongue juts out and he touches his index finger to one of the lips, carefully pulling it aside to widen the hole in the center and a loud groan echoes throughout the bathroom as cum pools near the entrance, dripping down onto the bathroom floor.
Donghyuck’s words ring loud in his ear. It’s not sex if it’s indirect. Mark didn’t understand the meaning behind the conversation— couldn’t even fathom the thoughts that lingered in Donghyuck’s mind as he tried to explain it to him days ago.
“It’s like an indirect kiss”, Donghyuck had said as they walked out of the meeting room, shoulders bumping as they walked side by side. “Just because I kiss you doesn’t mean you’ve kissed all the guys I’ve kissed, right?”
Mark had looked at him, brow arched high, a smirk gracing his face.“All? Just how many guys have you been kissing?”
Donghyuck had rolled his eyes, grin matching Mark’s. “As of late, only you.”
And the conversation had died there.
But Mark should’ve known better by now to realize that nothing Donghyuck says ever really ends and the end of the conversation is always the beginning of a new thought waiting to overthrow the objectivity of the last. The leaking fleshlight in Mark’s hand proves it.
Mark scoops up some of the cum on his index finger and licks it clean, a shudder rippling through his very being. The taste is familiar— a bitter, salty base with undertones of sweetness that folds onto the tongue like honey. It’s Donghyuck, definitely no argument about it and Mark feels his cock stir agonizingly in his pants, begging to be released and touched. Mark groans. If Donghyuck’s plan is to torture him, it’s definitely working.
He pulls down his pants in one go, ignoring the scrape of fabric against his skin and pulls his hardening cock out of his boxers, stroking it slowly, eyes never leaving the opening of the toy. He’s too frantic to properly work himself up, desperate to feel Donghyuck— all of Donghyuck— sheathed around him, tight and wet, filled to the brim with cream. The toy is symbolism, Mark knows, and represents something that they’ve skated around for months— a conversation neither them breach but always remain unacknowledged like a huge elephant in the room.
Sex . Full-blown, penetrative, cock in ass sex.
The fleshlight is Donghyuck’s way, in complete Donghyuck fashion, of tiptoeing into the subject and luring Mark into the possibility of discussion. And damn it, Mark’s weak, he knows he shouldn’t give in so easily when Donghyuck’s being sneaky and borderline manipulative, but he can’t stop himself from pushing his dick deep within the toy’s center, Donghyuck’s cum squelching around him and slipping out past the crevices.
“Oh fuck,” Mark breathes out, dragging the toy up to the tip of his cock and watching the cum paint a thick glossy trail along the vein pulsing along the length. The toy tightens around him as he brings it down once again, the sound of wet skin growing louder and louder between the walls of the bathroom stalls. It quickly becomes entrancing and Mark can’t stop, repeatedly thrusting into the used toy, spreading the leaking streams of cum across his balls and squeezing them in his hand as he picks up the pace, hips lifting off the seat of the toilet. The toy breathes with every thrust, letting out a rhythmic puff of air as Mark bottoms out getting closer and closer to his climax.
He braces his hand against the wall and slowly rises to stand, hips stuttering into the toy, and breathes out as his balls contract, spilling his seed deep inside. With record timing, his phone vibrates from the floor, and he swipes across the screen to open the message.
Do you want me to...wash it out after or...
You came in it?
And of course wash it out
Unless you want me to clean it out 👅
Mark slumps back down on the toilet and exhales.
“You seem distracted lately,” Donghyuck says, stuffing a forkful of pasta into his mouth.
Mark picks his head up from his lunch tray and blinks before furrowing his brows. “Huh? What?”
Donghyuck pauses in chewing, pointing his fork at him. “See. You’re not even listening to me.”
“It’s kind of hard to focus when you’re always talking,” Mark jokes half-heartedly, resuming the staring contest with the pizza on his tray.
Donghyuck hums at the pitiful attempt and swallows down another bite before nudging Mark’s foot with his beneath the table. “Seriously,” he says, tone far from his usual one. “What’s wrong? Are you upset with me or something?”
Mark shakes his head, and pushes the tray towards the center of the table, moving his head into its place “No, it’s not you at all.” he mumbles. “Just, things are kind of weird with Johnny and Jaehyun. I haven’t really hung out with them in a while.”
Donghyuck follows Mark’s line of vision to the table feet away, with Johnny and Jaehyun having a somewhat animated conversation and Taeyong listening passively. Johnny and Jaehyun seem indifferent to everything and everyone around them but Taeyong must feel a pair of eyes boring hard into his flesh because he picks up his gaze, and lands it directly on Mark and Donghyuck, offering a small, welcoming smile.
“So then go hang out with them,” Donghyuck resolves with a shrug, eyes landing back on Mark. “You don’t have to spend every waking moment with me, you know. I never asked for a shadow.”
Mark lifts his head. “I know, I know. But, I don’t really know how to explain things.”
“Explain what?” Donghyuck takes another bite of pasta.
Mark sits upright now, hands gesturing vaguely between them. “You know...us, and what we’re doing.”
Donghyuck blinks. “They’re your friends. Just tell them the truth.”
Mark’s eyes widen and he sputters out a series of ‘buts’ and broken syllables before settling on the simplest sentence his mind can contrive to form. “Did you tell your friends about us?”
“Of course,” Donghyuck deadpans.
A slow flush stamps across Mark’s cheeks. “So, Jeno and Jaemin, even Jungwoo and Doyoung know?” he asks slowly.
“Well, yeah,” Donghyuck says through a thin veil of transparency. “But, it’s not like they hadn’t already guessed it. It’s pretty obvious.”
“It is?!” Mark panics.
Donghyuck slows his chewing and lowers his fork back to his tray. “Come on Mark. We’re not exactly overt. The only people who probably haven’t completely put it together are Johnny and Jaehyun, and let’s be honest, they’ve probably sustained enough head injuries to deserve a pass.”
Every emotion humanly possibly crosses Mark’s face as he weaves his hands through his dark hair, gaze glued to the tabletop. “Oh my god,” he says. “Oh my god.”
“Hey,” Donghyuck pushes a finger into the center of Mark’s forehead. “What’s wrong now?
Mark swallows back the bitter taste lingering on his tongue. “How much , exactly, do they all know?”
Donghyuck cocks his head to the side, watching Mark’s movements with scrutiny. “The only thing they needed to know: you’re my boyfriend.”
Mark freezes, all the concerns running and bouncing in his head dissipating into a thin haze that clears in the forefront of his mind, to reveal one glaringly obvious word.
“Wait, what?” Mark rubs the bridge of his nose, before refocusing his eyes on Donghyuck. “I’m your what?”
Donghyuck’s eyes narrow. “My boyfriend. What do you mean ‘ wait what ’?” He mocks. “Don’t act like you didn’t already know, Mark Lee.”
Mark stares at Donghyuck, unblinking.
“Oh my god,” Donghyuck pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes. “You didn’t know we were dating.”
Mark leans forward, hunching over the table. “Dude, how the hell was I supposed to know that’s what this was?” he asks. “We never gave a title to it.”
“I didn’t think we had to!” Donghyuck groans out. “Remember what you said? ‘This can be whatever you want it to be.’ I’ve only seen you exclusively for three months, you’ve been to my house and met my parents— not to mention both your mouth and dick have been in places that aren’t exactly open for public use. What do you think we are, Mark?”
It hadn’t really resonated with him— the hours and hours of texting, the late-night phone calls Saturday night that spiraled deep into early Sunday morning, hours before Mark was due to be up for church— it all seemed intimate from an objective point of view. But Mark was just so used to Donghyuck, and being around him, that none of those things ever felt anything but natural to him. He hadn’t realized that their connection had somewhere along the lines transitioned from an initial lust-driven attraction to genuine romantic feelings.
“I-” he closes his mouth for a moment, reviewing his words in his mind. “I honestly don’t know.”
Donghyuck twists his mouth and scratches his nail against the table’s edge. “Do you not want to be my boyfriend?” he asks, avoiding locking his gaze with Mark’s. “You seemed a bit concerned a moment ago.”
“No— not because of the boyfriend thing,” Mark interjects with a wave of his hands. “I just didn’t want to ruin your reputation or give anyone reason to start things about you. I didn’t want our... club business … to be anyone’s business.”
Donghyuck stares at Mark, expression unreadable, body unmoving. Mark sighs and sinks lower into his chair. Of all the ways he could possibly fuck up, this has to be number one. Donghyuck had expressed to him early on that Mark’s perception of him and everything they did together was a cause for insecurity and freaking out about the possibility of someone finding out all the sordid details of their relationship, isn’t exactly reassuring. He expects Donghyuck to leave, to get angry, or to give him the silent treatment (an act Mark’s experienced before— the three longest days of his life).
But instead, Donghyuck laughs. Hard and loud— so loud that he has to muffle the sound with his hand and bite his palm to stop the tears from flowing.
“Why are you laughing?” Mark scratches his head.
“Because,” Donghyuck says through a fit of giggles. “I can’t decide if your concern is incredibly sweet or incredibly dumb.” He wipes away a stray tear from the corner of his eye, leveling Mark with a soft gaze. “Mark,” he stifles the last remnants of his giggles. “Your best friends are in a polyamorous relationship. Jungwoo’s dating a college guy. Jaemin and Jeno can’t even go to prom because they were caught doing God knows what in the boy’s locker room—”
“Ok, stop,” Mark interrupts.
“My point is,” Donghyuck enunciates slowly. “No one’s gonna give a fuck about what we’re doing. There’s always someone else doing worse or more scandalous things. It’s high school. Everyone’s an idiot. And when he leave here in two months, the last thing on anyone’s mind will be you dicking down the president of the Abstinence Club.” He reaches across the table to pinch Mark’s cheek. “But it’s cute of you to try to protect the little bit of virtue I have left. Honestly. You’re too cute.”
Donghyuck pushes to stand up and grabs his tray in his hands. “Come on,” he nods towards Johnny and Jaehyun’s table. “Let’s go sit with your friends.”
It’s only when they approach the table and Johnny and Jaehyun welcome them with gentle smiles and open arms that Mark realizes exactly how clueless he’s been. Donghyuck fits the mold, assimilating perfectly into the dynamic of his friends just as Mark had his. Donghyuck and Taeyong share a few commonalities— both fond of dance and designer clothes— and even Johnny and Jaehyun laugh every time Donghyuck makes a cheap joke at Mark’s expense. But Mark hones in on the fact that he had been wrong all along. He didn’t need three separate lives or three separate buckets— just the one, because the things that were meant for him were able to coexist beautifully and he’d never have to pretend otherwise.
As finals approach, Donghyuck frequents Mark’s house more often than he anticipates. It turns out that his boyfriend is not only surprisingly good at calculus— better than even Johnny— he’s already garnered enough college credits to cover all of his university math requirement. Working with Johnny is futile since he serves as too much of a distraction for even Mark’s mother to bear, so he defaults to the next best thing, which coincidentally, is also the next worst thing.
Mark’s parents have constantly fawned over Donghyuck since the moment they met him, a few days shy into spring break when Donghyuck begs to come over to play one of Mark’s new video games. All of the nervousness held inside him about his parent’s potential to read his awkward body language and piece together the fact that Donghyuck’s been inside his mouth more than the family dentist, ebbs away once Donghyuck eases his presidency into conversation. Within minutes, the switch of trust was immediately flipped and over the next couple of days, Mark was sure his parents may have actually liked Donghyuck more than they did him. His mother babied him, fixing all of Donghyuck’s favorite foods anytime he stopped by and his father always jokingly referred to him as his “second son”. Even Mark’s grandmother would ask about Donghyuck in passing every time the thought breached her mind. The simple appointed title had granted Donghyuck a line of credibility in his household, a level of power that Mark wasn’t sure Donghyuck should have. Conveniently, the conversation of Donghyuck being Mark’s boyfriend never came up as easily— had it, there’d be no way the two of them would ever be able to step foot in Mark’s room with the door closed shut.
He erases the blur of numbers on his paper for the third time, the white sheet turning a faded gray from so many erase marks that Mark had to print out a another sheet to transfer his final answers for submission. He looks at the problem with scrutinizing eyes, replaying the steps in sequence again in his head before spinning around in his chair to eye Donghyuck. “Finished.”
Donghyuck holds up one of Mark’s hoodies up to his chest, sizing himself up in the mirror hanging on the back of his closet door. “It’s wrong,” he says without sparing Mark a glance. He pulls the hoodie over his head and frowns when it hangs baggy and frumpy over his form.
Mark makes an unsatisfied face and clicks his tongue, waving the paper in the air. “You didn’t even look at it, Hyuck. How can you tell me it’s wrong?”
“Because,” Donghyuck says simply as if the single word is enough to override the entire conversation’s purpose. “If it takes you that long to solve that one problem, there’s no way it’s right.”
Mark breathes through his nose and grabs the nearest item on his desk — a crocheted lion that Jaehyun got him for his tenth birthday— and chucks it at Donghyuck’s head, the latter whining upon contact. “Stop being a brat and come check my work. I didn’t call you here to steal even more of my clothes.”
Donghyuck rubs the spot on his arm as he steps over discarded piles of clothes and hovers over Mark’s shoulder to look at his boxed answer. “It’s wrong,” he sings, returning to Mark’s closet. “Try again.”
Mark growls in frustration, erasing so hard that a small tear forms in the paper. “You know, this would go a lot smoother if you actually showed me how to do it rather than have me figure it out myself.”
“Maybe,” Donghyuck shrugs. “But it’ll connect better if you learn it yourself.”
“Then what the hell do I need you here for?” Mark huffs in annoyance.
“For emotional support of course.”
Mark takes off his reading glasses and lays the circular frames on the desk. He closes his eyes, stroking the bridge of his nose as a sigh escapes past his lips and his shoulders sink forward. “Hyuck, my test is Monday. I don’t need emotional support, I need to be able to get a C.”
He takes Donghyuck’s silence as a sign of defiance and spins around again to complain, but Donghyuck’s busy staring at an array of photos tacked to the small corkboard hanging behind his closet door.
“I never noticed these before,” he says, fingers touching the glossy edges of the polaroids.
“Oh, yeah. They’re just old pictures from middle school,” Mark waves off.
Donghyuck pulls the tack out of one of the polaroids and closely inspects the photo before angling it towards Mark’s tired eyes. “Who’s this girl?” he asks.
Mark’s eyes rest on a picture from his eighth-grade dance. He’s dressed in a black tuxedo, a little too long in the arms but still well-fitting enough to look nice, black hair slicked back and bow tie, knotted to perfection beneath the collar of his dress shirt. The girl next to him, clings on to his arms like her life depended on it, a bright smile painted and outlined in passionfruit pink lip gloss, the same shade of neon as her perfectly pink dress. Mark remembers taking the photo with the girl, and going off to the dance in a limo his parent’s rented just for the occasion, only for him to ditch the girl in favor of hanging out with Johnny and Jaehyun all night. He never spoke to her again.
“Just some girl,” he shrugs off. “I went to a dance with her years ago.”
“What’s her name?”
Donghyuck raises his brow. “You went to the dance with a girl and you don’t even remember her name? I’m surprised at you, Mark Lee. You don’t seem like the type.”
“I remembered your name, didn’t I?” Mark lolls his head to the side. “I always remember the people that matter the most to me. I barely knew that girl.”
“Then why do you still keep her picture up?”
“Because I look good in it.” Mark laughs as Donghyuck returns the stuffed animal, full force against his chest. “I’m kidding, geez. I don’t know, it’s just a nice picture.”
Donghyuck hums and Mark hopes it’s the end of a dead conversation, but the next question rebounds just as quickly. “You went to a dance with a girl you hardly knew?”
Mark sets his pencil on his desk and slides his house slippers off his feet, clearly aware that his practice problems aren’t going to be finished any time soon. “Well, it’s not like I really had the chance. My parents wouldn’t let us hang out at her house and she couldn’t come to mine either. We barely had classes together so the few times we did see each other, there wasn’t much dialogue.”
“Did they not like her?” Donghyuck frowns.
“No, that thought she was a nice girl,” Mark says slowly. “They were just worried that too much time together might lead to…” the sentence dies at the end of his tongue.
“Yeah,” Mark says. “Exactly.”
Donghyuck places the photo back in its place and moves to sit on the edge of the bed inches away from Mark’s position in his desk chair. “Did you ever like another girl?”
“I didn’t even like her ,” Mark admits. “Well, not in a romantic way at least.”
“You’re not answering the question.”
“No, Hyuck,” Mark looks at him. “I didn’t even think about anyone romantically again until I met you. Why all of the interest so suddenly?”
Donghyuck leans back on the mattress and folds his arms behind his head, eyes meeting Mark’s. “Just thinking back to a couple of weeks ago,” he muses. “when I let you borrow my toy. You came pretty hard into it.”
Mark looks at his closed bedroom door cautiously, holding his breath before lowering his voice. “That’s because it was already full of your cum, Hyuck. What are you trying to get at?”
“I’m just wondering what about it makes you come that hard,” Donghyuck muses and Mark tries his damnedest not to fall into the trap his boyfriend’s set up.
He turns back around, giving Donghyuck his back and focuses his eyes on the math equation. “I already told you why.”
“Yeah,” Mark hears the mattress creak beneath Donghyuck’s weight and knows he’s shifted up into a sitting position. “But then I used it on you again and you still filled it to the brim. Kind of makes me wonder,” Donghyuck’s off the bed, edging closer to Mark’s person. Mark can smell him. The sweet scent grows stronger with each step he takes until he’s resting his chin on Mark’s shoulder, watching him struggle to redo the calculus problem. “Makes me wonder if you’d come just as hard if I had the same body parts? You know, if I was a girl?”
The lead of Mark’s pencil snaps hard against the paper and he cranes his head back to take in Donghyuck’s entire face. “What are you even talking about? I’d come whether you were a guy or a girl. It’s you that I’m interested in.”
Donghyuck hums, circling his arms around Mark’s neck and layering kisses on his cheek. “So it really wouldn’t matter to you?” he mumbles.
“Not in the slightest.”
Donghyuck hums again and points at the rewritten equation on Mark’s sheet. “You got it right this time.”
And the conversation dies there. But Mark knows Donghyuck better by now to know that the topic is far from over.
Donghyuck shows up to his house the next day wearing two things: a smile that’s far too wide and proud to be innocent, and Mark’s favorite basketball hoodie that mysteriously went missing two weeks ago. He doesn’t get a word in edgewise when he opens the front door, just Donghyuck grabbing him by the wrist and offering quick greetings to his parents with excuses of approaching finals and ‘much studying needing to be done.’ It isn’t a lie at all in Mark’s eyes, his calculus skills hadn’t improved in the slightest from the previous day.
The moment Mark closes the bedroom door behind them, he clasps his hands together, face taking on a stern expression, voice thick with exhaustion. “Hyuck, you know I’m always happy to see you but I really, really need to be able to pass this final so if you’re gonna be as much help as you were yesterday, then you might as well not get too comfortable.”
Donghyuck pouts from his position on Mark’s bed, kicking off his sneakers and reclining back onto his forearms. “You’re writing me off before we even get started.” he says. “I told you, I’m 100% here for emotional support.”
“I don’t need emotional support,” Mark breathes. “I need strategy and answers.”
“And you’ll get them,” Donghyuck assures. “Just start with problem number one.”
“I’ve already done one through four,” Mark says.
Donghyuck brings one leg to bend at the knee, playing with the drawstring of his sweats. “Yeah, I saw those on my way in. You’ll need to start at number one.”
Mark sighs out.
Mark’s finishing off his seventh problem when he hears it— the subtle whisper of his name, growing louder until Donghyuck’s voice is insistent and annoyed. Mark huffs out a sigh, angling his head around over his shoulder to look at his boyfriend stretched out across his bed.
Donghyuck’s done with playing games on his cell phone, the background noise long faded into the silence of the room, and instead is propped up against Mark’s headboard, eyes heavily lidded and grin devilish.
He pokes his tongue out the corner of his mouth playfully, fingers dancing along the band of his sweatpants before he dips his finger beneath the waist and pulls back a lacy pastel pink string with a hot pink ribbon sewn onto it. The band snaps back into its place beneath Donghyuck’s sweats as quickly as Donghyuck reveals it to him, and Mark has to rub his exhausted eyes to make sure he isn’t fucking hallucinating.
“Hyuck, what are you— what are you hiding?” his voice betrays him with a crack that’s several octaves too high and unstable.
Donghyuck licks his lips and slots his hands into the front pocket of Mark’s hoodie. “You’ll have to find out,” he teases with a lilt in his voice. “But only if you’ve got all of your answers correct.”
Mark turns further in his seat to face Donghyuck completely, mouth dropping open and eyes wide behind the frames of his glasses. “Are you fucking kidding me? You know that’s not gonna happen.”
Even with weeks of studying with both Johnny (occasionally) and Donghyuck, Mark’s still grasping for straws, barely understanding the basic concept of integrals and derivatives. With his test two days away, he’s already done enough practice problems and practice quizzes from the back of his textbook to default to his final two options: beg his professor for an extensive and unreasonable amount of extra credit under the pretenses of him being a graduating senior, or cross his fingers and pray to God that the test is multiple choice. Donghyuck, a survivor of AP Calculus from the previous year had assured him that it wasn’t, but Mark was raised on the grounds of strong faith.
“I think I’ve figured out your problem,” Donghyuck hums.
“That makes one of us,” Mark mumbles.
Donghyuck ignores him in favor of adjusting the wild strands of hair falling into his face, pushing the fringe off to the side. “You don’t have enough incentive. Everyone knows learning is best cemented with positive reinforcement and reward. So, if you get these ten problems right,” Donghyuck slides his left hand down the front of the hoodie and settles it on the crotch of his pants. “You’ll get a reward.”
Mark narrows his eyes, mouth fixed to gripe at the fact that Donghyuck’s piss poor tutoring strategy of explaining things once and then letting Mark sink or swim is ineffective, but stops short when he notices it.
A missing silver band from the left finger of Donghyuck’s left hand.
Mark’s gaze travels up to meet Donghyuck’s, mouth agape. “Hey, where’s your—” Donghyuck tilts his head, fingers dancing along the embroidered thread around the waistband of his sweats and Mark straightens in his chair, realization setting in. “Wait, are you serious? Like, right now?”
“Only if you get the problems right,” Donghyuck holds his finger up in contest. “That’s my only condition.”
Without even saying it, Mark’s cock jumps beneath the fabric of his basketball shorts, eager and willing to accept the incentive fresh on Donghyuck’s mind, but his brain wails in lament, too plagued with ideas of what exactly is waiting for him beneath the dark gray sweats and between Donghyuck’s thighs to be able to focus on calculus.
“That’s so not fair,” Mark objects, the grip on his pencil tightening. “You know there’s a high chance that I’m not going to have even one of these right.”
“You’re not trying hard enough. You know this stuff,” Donghyuck rises up slowly. “I know you do. So come on, finish your last three problems and I’ll check your work.”
Mark groans and reluctantly turns back to his desk, willing away all thoughts of Donghyuck lying in his bed with a semi-hard cock waiting to be touched, kissed, sucked, and rutted against. His pencil dances across the page without much thought, even when he isn’t exactly aware of how he’s answering the problems. He just tries to remember the things taught in class— when he actually paid attention—, tries to recall the little hacks and tips Johnny passed his way every time they did homework together, and clings desperately to any cheesy mnemonic he found on Google and Youtube. He garners every weapon in his arsenal, desperately hoping that for once fate catches him a break, sees how hard he’s actually trying, and cuts him some slack.
By the time he finishes the final problem, his worksheet is a mess of smudges and thumbprint marks, but the answers are bolded and boxed, outlined with the hard drag of pencil. He hesitates to turn to face Donghyuck, who’s been unceremoniously quiet throughout the entire process, but the paper lifts out of his hands, and Hyuck’s standing behind him, eyes darting across each answer, lips moving silently.
“Hey, wait, I wasn’t ready yet!” Mark stands up to grab the paper back, but Donghyuck angles out of the way, still checking each answer.
“70%,” Hyuck says, handing the paper back. “Barely a pass, but a pass.”
Mark’s shoulders slump and a groan rips from his throat. “I told you this wasn’t fair.”
“What are you griping about,” Hyuck says fingers untying the strings of his sweats as Mark slumps back into his chair. “You still get your reward. You passed.”
“But I thought you said I needed to get all of them right,” Mark says before mentally kicking himself to shut up.
Donghyuck hums, head rolling around with an audible crack, eyes landing on Mark’s. “I’m a very easygoing teacher. I believe in extra credit.”
Mark lets out a breathless laugh and reaches forward to pull Donghyuck between the space in his legs by his drawstrings. “You know my parents are right downstairs, right?”
“Did you lock your door?”
“Then it’ll be fine,” Donghyuck answers, leaning down to meet Mark’s lips with a feverish kiss. He props his knee alongside Mark’s thigh, leaning into his space as their lips mold together, tongues sliding across teeth and flesh, saliva slipping through the crevices of each other’s mouths.
Donghyuck’s the first to break for air, lightly panting as he slips both of his hands beneath the waistband of his sweats and tugs them down past his colorful character socks and stepping out of them. Mark’s hoodie is too long, hanging down on Donghyuck’s toned caramel legs like a baggy dress and Mark makes a noise of impatience when Donghyuck refuses to lift the sweatshirt up immediately.
“Hyuck, we don’t really have the gift of time,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “Are you gonna show me or not?”
Donghyuck’s lips curl into a slow grin and he grips the ends of the hoodie, slowly dragging the purple fabric up beyond his navel and watching Mark’s eyes transition from shock to intrigue to lust in a matter of seconds.
The panties are pink and frilly— lacier and more babydoll-like than Mark’s sure any girl would actually wear, but the sight of them creasing into the junction of Donghyuck’s thighs and brushing against his soft skin every time he moves causes a pool of saliva to form in the dip in Mark’s tongue. The face of the underwear is sheer, prominently showing off Donghyuck’s balls perfectly perched in the seat of the fabric and his pretty cock neatly tucked within, cockhead sticking out past the fancy pink ribbon pinned in the center with a shiny faux diamond in the middle to the knot.
“Fuck,” Mark breathes and dares to look up at Donghyuck’s waiting eyes. “What’s— what’s all this for?” Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders like the idea was a spur of the moment thing but Mark begs to differ. This has calculated planning written all over it.
“I guess I just wanted to know what it would feel like,” he admits finally, right hand still holding up the hoodie, left hand dropping down to cup himself over the crotch of the fabric. “You said you’d like me either way, so I wanted to see what’d you think.”
“I think,” Mark breathes out watching Donghyuck’s fingers tease the tip of his peeking cock. “I think you look fucking hot. Like you always do.” He tears his eyes away. “But you’re not doing this for the wrong reasons are you? I already told you I like you the way you are.”
Donghyuck releases his hold on the hoodie, panties once again hidden from Mark’s line of view as he slides to straddle Mark in his chair, thighs bracketing around Mark’s waist. He leans in, layers a soft yet wet kiss along the slope of Mark’s jawline before breathing hot into Mark’s ear.
“I know,” Donghyuck reassures with a whisper. “But I like the way you look at me like this .” he trails his fingers through Mark’s scalp, down the back of his neck and along the toned line of Mark’s clavicle, exposed from the drooping collar of his t-shirt. “I want you to look at me like this , like something you’re not supposed to have.” Donghyuck’s relentless, rutting against Mark’s crotch, only the thin fabric of his panties and Mark’s polyester shorts separating them from the delicious friction of skin. “I wanna be the little dirty secret you hide from your parents, Mark Lee.”
Mark’s cock jumps and twitches and there’s definitely a wet spot growing on the fabric of his boxers, but Donghyuck isn’t done with him yet, sliding his hands down to the edge of Mark’s shirt and pushing them underneath to ghost across warm skin.
“I wanna be like the girls they never let into your room,” Donghyuck presses the pad of his thumbs against Mark’s hardening nipple, flicking the bud and rolling it in slow circles. A grin peeks through when Mark hisses, mouth dropping open in a shaky exhale, and Donghyuck leans forward to place a chaste kiss on Mark’s chin. “I want them to never suspect that you fuck me like your life depends on it— that you fill me with your cum like you’re trying to get me pregnant.”
Mark doesn’t know why the words affect him so much but his erection is painful and his heart is threatening to jump out of his chest with every touch, every breath, every word falling from Donghyuck’s mouth, laying dominion in the palm of his hands.
“I wanna be their worst fear .”
Mark doesn’t process, hoisting Donghyuck up by his hips and he’s glad Donghyuck has enough restraint to muffle the surprised noise into Mark’s shoulder, an amused giggle vibrating against Mark’s skin until he pins the boy down on his mattress and slots a knee in between Donghyuck’s thighs.
“Don’t even play with me like that,” Mark says, the latter end of the sentence coming out in a whine. “Are you being serious right now?”
Donghyuck’s giggles still bubble out of his throat but his eyes are serious, as serious and warm with rings of swirling honey and cinnamon, like that day in the activities storage room, with Mark pressed in between him and the wall. “I’m serious,” Donghyuck says when he has more control over his voice. “I really want you to fuck me.”
Mark lets out a breath and hangs his head low, eyes closing for a moment to catch a grip on his sanity. “You know I’ve never really...done this before. Are you sure you want to? Like, really, really sure?”
“And I have ?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes.
Mark looks back up at him, both brows lifted high. “Wait, seriously? But I thought-”
“Because I’m so open with my sexuality?” Donghyuck finishes for him. “I’ve done things Mark but I’m not the president of the Abstinence Club for no reason.” The tint that spreads across his cheeks is as faint and light as the pink panties pressed against Mark’s knee. “Besides, the most I’ve ever done has been with you. So yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
Mark breathes out and nods slowly, pressing a sweet kiss against Donghyuck’s lips. “Well, I’m not gonna say no,” he says. “But just two conditions: one, you tell me if you’re uncomfortable at any time and in any way, and I’ll stop. And two,” Mark looks back at his bedroom door before returning his gaze to him. “Try not to make too much noise.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Like, I wanna broadcast to your parents that I’m getting dicked down feet away from their bedroom.” He raises his legs up, resting each one on Mark’s shoulder. “Come on, I wanna do this.”
Mark’s hands grip Donghyuck at the hips, pulling him flush against his crotch as he dives in for another heated kiss, lips locked together and hips moving in any and every direction, seeking out some gratifying form of friction. He pulls away from Donghyuck’s swollen lips, rutting hard against his thinly veiled cock, pushing his sweatshirt up Donghyuck’s torso until he sees the push and pull of Donghyuck’s abdominal muscles.
“I don’t have any lube,” Mark breathes out. “I can’t— fuck— I can’t properly—”
Donghyuck shakes his head, lips parted slightly with small ‘ahs’ leaving every time Mark pushes his dick up against his. “I already— at home. Before I came,” he chokes out.
“Yeah?” Mark bites his lip, delivering a particularly rough thrust that arches Donghyuck’s back and makes him bite into the arm of Mark’s hoodie. “You already worked yourself open for me?”
Mark’s fingers come to rest between, thumb and index playing in the sticky pearls of precum pooling at the tip of Donghyuck’s cockhead and spreading it across the front of the panties. He loops his index finger around the bottom of the underwear, tugging them aside to get a better view of Donghyuck’s pink rim, fluttering and twitching from the cold air of the room. The rim and surrounding skin are glossy— wet from Donghyuck’s own preparation and Mark doesn’t hesitate to press his tongue against Donghyuck’s perineum, trailing it down to the thinning skin just near his entrance, but avoiding the rim altogether. Donghyuck skin tastes as musky and sweet as always, a flavor profile forever embedded on Mark’s tongue.
“Mark,” Donghyuck whimpers quietly from above him, fingers clawing into the dark sheets. “Please, just the tip. Please !”
Mark chuckles lowly, spreading Donghyuck’s cheeks open with a tight grip on his thighs and flattens his tongue against the rim, allowing a river of saliva to kiss the entrance. He pushes the tip of his tongue inside, barely in far enough for any real stimulation, before withdrawing and layering kisses on the puckered rim.
“Fuck you,” Donghyuck whines now and Mark can’t stop the giggle from surfacing. “You know what the fuck I mean.”
“You’re so needy,” Mark laughs, looking up at his boyfriend from his position with fond eyes. “It’s cute.”
And Mark knows Donghyuck’s bound to spit out some sassy retort that’s brattish and barbed, but his tongue pushing deeper— deep past the contracting muscles of Donghyuck’s rim, kills any form of retort on Donghyuck’s lips. He sucks lightly before pulling out again, pushing a single finger inside and rubbing the pad of it against Donghyuck’s walls.
Donghyuck squeezes his thighs shut at the new sensation, letting out a frustrated whine when Mark pushes them back open wide, prodding his index finger deep inside, rotating his wrist in loose circles until he brushes against a small bulb, soft and pliant.
Donghyuck mewls so loud that Mark snaps his free hand over his mouth, pausing all movement, eyes glued to his bedroom door. The pad of his finger is still flush against Donghyuck’s prostate sending shuddering trembles coursing through Hyuck’s body but Mark doesn’t move an inch until he’s sure he doesn’t hear the creaking of the stairs or the muffled voices of his parents.
“What did I say?” he turns an accusing look towards Donghyuck, poking against the gland slowly and repetitively, despite the sight of Donghyuck unraveling further and deeper into his mattress.
“C-can’t help it,” Donghyuck cries out, fists clenching the hoodie at the neck. “ S’good. So good.”
Mark hums, finger still massaging against Donghyuck’s prostate, bending slightly to graze his nail against it. Donghyuck chokes down a sob, pleasure rolling through him in rivulets, and edges up the mattress in an attempt to get away from Mark’s finger. The stimulation is blindingly good, a pleasure that’s too much to handle all at once, but Mark grips him by the thighs again, dragging him back down to the incessant prodding of his finger.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mark quirks his lips, mouth falling open as he searches and finds the bulb again. “Stop running.”
“If you keep touching it I’m gonna come!” Donghyuck whisper-yells harshly.
Mark presses a heavy touch to the gland, and Donghyuck’s eyes snap shut, fingers bringing the neck of the hoodie into his mouth and sinking teeth and nails into the fabric to suppress the building scream that rips out of his as his dick shoots pearls of cum onto his stomach and against a portion of the pink panties. Donghyuck’s chest rises and falls quickly even seconds after the first orgasm and Mark brings out his finger to suck, rising up the expanse of Hyuck’s body to hover over him.
“Fuck...you..” Donghyuck breathes, still lacking control of his heart rate.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” Mark smirks and dodges the weak attempt at a swat from Donghyuck’s limp arms. “Can you still go?” Mark murmurs against Donghyuck’s damp neck. “I think I can make you come two more times before I do.”
“Two?” Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “You’re being a little ambitious don’t you think?”
Mark lolls his head back and forth with half a shrug, half a nod. “Maybe. But if the president of the Abstinence Club sacrifices his virtue for me, then I’d better make it worth it, right?”
Donghyuck’s not in a position to argue, not when Mark’s sinking back down, eye level to his fucked open hole and pushing in two fingers this time, spreading him open and exposed. Donghyuck’s body reels almost immediately from overstimulation and its too much— too good for Mark to stop, but an uncomfortable feeling that makes him sink his nails into Mark’s biceps and ruin his teeth into his bottom lip.
“You’re so wet down here,” Mark notes, dancing his fingers in every direction inside of Donghyuck’s clenching walls. “You really did all of this yourself?”
“Mark, “ Donghyuck whines, a thread away from breaking. “ Please , no more teasing. I can’t take it.”
Mark lifts a brow, but pulls his two fingers out nonetheless, spreading the wet fluid across his bedsheets. “You think two fingers will be enough?”
“I don’t care ,” Donghyuck stresses the last word, hands smacking against the mattress. “Just fuck me already.”
Mark clicks his tongue and shakes his head. He’s not exactly an expert on sex (all he knows comes from overexaggerated porn videos off the internet and the sexcapades of Johnny, Jaehyun, and Taeyong), but he knows that sex the first time can be painful and downright unpleasant if it isn’t done correctly. Donghyuck’s hole stretches open wide and malleable to Mark’s touch, even with only a few minutes of preparation, but Donghyuck is insistent and Mark himself, deep down, is impatient.
He pulls off his shirt and tosses it into the laundry hamper near his bedroom door, stepping out of his boxers and shorts in one go and kicking them under his bed. His cockhead is an angry red, throbbing in the palm of his hand as he dry strokes it, pulling the skin down to stretch and circling the sensitive ridge of skin beneath the glans. He moves towards his dresser, pushes aside the clutter of items covering the top, and opens a jar of petroleum jelly, slathering it down his member and coating his cockhead.
“Vaseline? Really?” Donghyuck jabs.
“You’ll thank me when your ass isn’t ripped in half,” Mark says, moving back over to the bed, lifting Donghyuck’s legs to wrap around his waist. His fingers reach for the band of the frilly underwear but Donghyuck catches his wrist, pushing his hands away.
“Leave them,” he says. “I want you to fuck me, just like this .”
A low growl rips from Mark’s throat as he pulls the panties aside, the tip of his cock aligned with Donghyuck’s rim, the greasy salve sticking the flesh of their skin together. Mark looks at Donghyuck again, checking for any sign of resistance or reconsideration on his face, but finds none. Gripping Donghyuck by the hips, he sinks into the tight heat, stomach tightening at the vice-like grip Donghyuck’s ass has around his dick.
“Holy shit ,” he breathes, once he bottoms out. One look at Donghyuck’s shattered expression, eyes hazy with inebriation, and Mark’s sure Donghyuck’s just as fucked up, if not more fucked up, than himself.
“Hyuck, can I move? Are you okay?” he asks, tone low and thick with desperation. It’s a borderline whine, one that Hyuck would normally tease him about to no end. But this Donghyuck— Donghyuck filled to the brim and completely penetrated— barely registers the noise or anything , just the pleasure filling his body and pushing him over the edge.
“Y-yeah,” Donghyuck rasps out with a shaky swallow. “Move. Please.”
Mark sets his pace slow, pulling out of Donghyuck’s hole, just before the tip of his dick can catch on Donghyuck’s rim and sinking back down until he’s so far deep that their hips slot together. Each slow push and pull knocks a different sound out of Donghyuck— a soft ‘ah’, and muted whine, a hitch in his breath— sounds that Mark never thought could sound so beautiful, or erotic.
Mark’s fingers tangle into the thin fabric of the panties, using them as a grip to inch himself harder and faster into Donghyuck’s heat, nearly salivating at the sight of Donghyuck’s pretty cock spitting pearls of precum on the neatly folded bow. In the back of his mind, Mark laughs. It’s a stroke to his ego for sure that for once in his entire semester of knowing him, that Donghyuck’s silent, and been effectively reduced to speechlessness. His eyes are a centimeter away from snapping shut, fingers still gripping hard into the hoodie and, mouth agape in a plea, silently screaming and mouthing for more, more, more .
“You’re so pretty, Hyuck,” Mark murmurs, hips slapping against Donghyuck’s, breath lodged in his throat. “You’re so fucking pretty. How can you spread your legs for me like this?”
Donghyuck cries out a helpless ‘ Mark ’ and turns his head away in embarrassment, the tint of flush deepening to a bruised rouge. Mark reaches up with his free hand to cup Donghyuck’s cheeks and turns his head back to face him, thumb pulling down his lip.
“Don’t look away,” Mark breathes, a hard thrust knocking his headboard against his wall with a soft thud. Mark slows his pace down then, careful not to make the same mistake, but too eager to let up now. “I wanna know how you could just give me your pretty hole like this. Your pretty , wet, filthy , sloppy hole.”
Donghyuck tightens around Mark’s cock triggering a reflexive moan followed by a laugh from Mark, whose hips stutter in surprise.
“Ah,” Mark says with realization. “I see you like that.” he lets go of the panties in his hand, allow them to rub against his cock with each thrust and pushes Donghyuck’s hands above his head, pinning them into place. “You like it when I talk to you this way?”
“Yes!” Donghyuck whines. “Fuck, Mark .”
Mark angles his hips a tad bit higher, searching with sheer muscle memory for the tiny bulb of flesh until his cockhead just barely grazes it and Donghyuck keens beneath him. “You want me to come inside you?”
“Y-yes, Mark! Fuck yes!” Donghyuck pants. “Yesyesyesyesyes!”
“You sure?” Mark teases with a smirk.
“I swear to god—” Donghyuck’s words are cut short by a hard thrust, sentence dying behind prickling tears and a suppressed sob.
Mark pushes forward, pounding deeper and harder into Donghyuck, rhythm varying but cockhead perfectly angled in the right spot to send Donghyuck coasting through waves and waves of pleasure. Mark releases Donghyuck’s hands, bringing his own down to cup his boyfriend’s cheeks, thumbs moving to graze the sensitive spot behind his ears.
“You want to have my baby?” Mark murmurs, eyes locked to Donghyuck’s— obsidian and dark against honey and gold.
The ‘ yes ’ is faint but audible and Donghyuck goes tense beneath him, eyes glazing over and turning glossy as he comes for the second time within twenty minutes, Mark’s favorite hoodie falling down to catch most of his spunk. Mark slows his thrusts to a stop, fingers still stroking Donghyuck behind the ears, eyes scanning his face for discomfort.
“You good?” Mark breathes out a laugh when, Donghyuck slowly rolls his eyes forward to stare at him lazily.
“How—” Donghyuck clears his hoarse throat, “have you not finished yet?”
Mark shrugs. “I guess all that cock ring training, had an effect on me, huh?” He taps Donghyuck’s bare hip. “Turn over.”
Donghyuck’s body is spent, used up, and sticky, and he barely has the strength to flip onto his stomach. Mark helps angle his hips up off the mattress, stroking Donghyuck’s hair as he buries his head against the pillow, hoodie sliding up to reveal the small dimples of his back.
“One more?” Mark asks, hands sliding down Donghyuck’s back.
Donghyuck nods, managing enough strength to wiggle his hips. “One more.”
Mark squeezes the flesh of Donghyuck’s ass, pulling the damp panties down mid-thigh, just enough to expose his raw entrance. He doesn’t waste any time pushing back in, his own release near, and threatening to spill over. Donghyuck muffles his moans into Mark’s pillow as Mark bottoms out repeatedly, pushing Hyuck further and further into the springs of his mattress.
A muffled cry emits from Hyuck’s mouth, louder than the subdued moans and whimpers and the creak of Mark’s bed frame ache with each rock and thrust.
“M-Mark,” Donghyuck raises his head, faint tear streaks staining his cheeks, fringe glued to his forehead. “I c-can’t— I can’t go anymore,”
“Okay, okay,” Mark shushes, leans forward to wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s torso, pumps falling erratic. “I’m right there, can you make it a little longer? Can you take it a little longer, for me baby?” He cups Donghyuck’s cheeks in his right hand, angling his head to lock lips in a fragile kiss, left hand snaking to wrap around Donghyuck’s sensitive cock.
Donghyuck nods into the kiss— broken, shattered, a shell of his former self— and maintains eye contact as he nods again. “Just a little,” he whispers out.
“It’s coming now, baby,” Mark breathes, hot air warming his skin and littering damp layers of sheen on Donghyuck’s already sweat-stained skin. “One,”
Donghyuck pushes his back flush against Mark’s torso.
Mark tightens his grip at the base of Donghyuck’s cock.
Donghyuck falls forward into the mattress, body convulsing in rippling trembles as he cums, dry and in shuddering waves that start at his shoulders, progressing to the curve of his toes. Mark’s heavy body follows shortly after, his own cock emptying his seed deep inside, so full that cum runs down Donghyuck’s thighs and stains the sheets.
Their breathing falls in sync with one another, back to chest, hearts on the same wavelength. And finally, Mark gets it. He understands the hype. He understands the sentiment— the attachment and desire, of mindblowing sex.
He rolls off of Donghyuck to lie on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling before, falling to his boyfriend’s face. “Hyuck, you good?”
Donghyuck’s face is still buried into Mark’s pillow. “Don’t talk to me for twenty minutes. I’m still recovering.”
Mark barks a laugh into the crease of his arm, nudging Donghyuck with his foot. “Yo, you are so dramatic.” He pulls Donghyuck into his arms, against the boy’s struggle and whines, and litters kisses across his cheek.
“Honestly, Mark,” Donghyuck dodges another onslaught of kisses. “I’m pretty sure your dick scrambled my brain. Give me a minute.”
“Okay,” Mark sits up, reaching for the pouch of disposable wipes on his nightstand. “But I can guarantee we have a good five minutes before my mom’s up here,”
“Hmm,” Donghyuck hums completely unfazed and disinterested.
Mark cleans the faded streaks of tears from Donghyuck’s cheeks, wipes of the dried saliva from the corners of his mouth. He wipes away all the residue of Vaseline, sweat, and cum from Donghyuck’s thighs, before tossing the disposable wipes in the trash beneath his desk.
Before Mark can even finish redressing in his bathroom, he hears the faint sound of snores leaving Donghyuck’s mouth. He angles his body back, peaking out the doorway of his bathroom and sees Donghyuck, redressed in his sweats, hoodie long discarded in favor of one of Mark’s graphic tees, curled on his side and fast asleep.
Mark chuckles to himself and moves over towards the bed to run his fingers through the still damp and matted strands of Donghyuck’s hair. He pushes the fringe back, dances his fingers across Hyuck’s cheek, and rests his thumb on his bottom lip. All with his left hand.
Mark chuckles to himself and places a kiss on Donghyuck’s lips.
Maybe he’s the sinister one.