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The Art and Design Center was an unfamiliar building for Mingi; he would pass it if he was heading downtown, but otherwise it was out of ways from his daily life on campus. It was a newer building, standing near the edge of campus border, in contrast to the older buildings where he usually had his classes. The modern structure was a mixture of unpainted concrete shaped into sharp angles accented with stainless steel and windows bigger than five Mingis put together. He fumbled with the strap of his messenger bag before taking a brave step towards the glass front door, carefully pushing it open as he looked around to see only a scatter of students loitering the wide hallway. He observed the open galleries from afar, his eyes skimming through odd sculptures and abstract paintings. He met a junction in the hallway; to his left looked like more gallerias, and to his right a more barren wall, only occupied by closed opaque doors. He walked towards them for a sense of privacy, looking up to see the room number. 131. Room 202, where he was told to meet the design student, was a floor above.
Mingi took the stairway further down the hall, then easily found the classroom. The two-door entryway was already wide open, a few students on work tables fumbling on sewing machines and mannequins, cloth scattered everywhere you could land your eyes on; the floor, the tables, the chairs, the ceiling fan. He rasped his knuckles on the door, clearing his throat.
“Is Kang Yeosang here?”
“Yeosang’s working in the Art Education room,” replied a student on one end of the class.
“Oh,” Mingi said. “And where is that?”
“Just next door. You must be the model; he said to tell you he’s waiting there instead.”
Room 203, unlike the studio classroom, was closed off. Mingi peeked through a rectangular window by the knob of its backdoor, seeing nothing but a bright light coming through the window on the opposite side. Then a figure stood up, a piece of satin in his hands as he looked down with furrowed eyebrows, fingers working on a knotted thread in the hem. Mingi couldn’t help but stare; the boy had blond hair kept behind his ears, which styled round purple earrings on the lobe and a ring clip on the helix. His brows were straight and his eyes slightly sunken, his lips thin, round teeth biting on the thicker lower. The boy blinked, as if realizing Mingi’s presence, looking up with bright round eyes. As Mingi’s own eyes widened in surprise, a curl formed on the other’s mouth; a smile that made Mingi blush.
“Hi! You must be the model that contacted me! I’m Yeosang. Nice to meet you!”
Despite his bright tone, the deep voice was a surprise to Mingi. As he usually does when he gets nervous, Mingi replied in an even deeper voice.
“Hi, nice to meet you too.”
Yeosang hummed at the reply, inviting Mingi in and closing the door behind him. Art Education looked like it belonged in a kindergarten with tables for adults; the room had bright blue painted walls and shelves of stationary from thousands of color pencils mixed with crayons to scrap paper and watercolor paint tubes, brushes standing in cut up plastic bottles, arranged in rows near a sink in the corner of the room. On the opposite corner was where Yeosang had his setup; a mannequin’s torso that stood on a metal rod, a red piece of cloth tacked on its shoulders, and the rest of the fabric strown on a nearby table, some smaller pieces, along with a mixture of various pins scattered on the floor. Yeosang picked up a menacingly huge fabric scissors and swung it around his index finger as he leaned himself on the worktable. The weight of the scissors pulled it down unflatteringly, and Yeosang cleared his throat in dismissal, gripping on to it in his palms.
“Hope you don’t mind that I prefer working alone; company can be distracting. The gossip’s fun once in a while but the third time you cut something wrong because you were so involved in a conversation, it’s just not worth it anymore.”
“Sure,” Mingi replied simply. Yeosang observed Mingi for a moment, then gave him a smirk.
“You’re built perfectly to be a model. What’s your major?”
“Actuarial Science.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It is… and really hard. So I get kudos for being smart.”
“I’ll give you that.” Yeosang rummaged through the fabric on the table and pulled out a yellow measuring tape. “For today we can just take measurements; don’t really have anything for you to wear yet. Also, might have to take a few more pictures, just for reference. Actually let's do that first.”
Yeosang scrambled the fabric again and a phone appeared in sight. He took a picture of Mingi’s wrist and back of his hand; to observe skin tones, he said. Mingi didn’t question it. When Yeosang carefully turned Mingi’s hand to reveal his milk white skin on the inner side, Mingi felt his heart tremble slightly. When was the last time he let a stranger manhandle him like this? Probably when his mom wanted to make him a tailored suit before he went off to college; the black ensemble was now dusting in his closet. Yeosang was soft in comparison, a smile lingering on his face as he amateurly pulled the measuring tape back into reappearance from the silk ocean.
Yeosang’s fingertips felt rough as it touched Mingi’s bare forearm, measuring his arm length, then his cuffs, then writing a note on a scrap piece of white paper where a simple figure sketch was readily drawn. He crouched as he pulled the measuring tape down to Mingi’s feet, his head leaning too close to an area Mingi was hoping he would avoid. Mingi looked out the window, trying to distract himself, but it was to no avail, feeling blood rush down at the presence of warmth, stiffening Mingi into place as he lost control of his stupid penis muscles. He might have a smart brain but his dick was of a middle schooler’s. Yeosang measured Mingi’s shin width, moving his way up to his thighs, then his hip area, each touch more intense than the one before it. He wrapped the yellow tape around his hip from the back, and Mingi’s arms automatically floated midway in the air. Yeosang pulled the tape to the front to meet his other hand near Mingi’s jeans’ zip. The tape tightens on Mingi’s buttcheeks, and the man blushes as he feels Yeosang’s fingers brush his crotch. Yeosang’s eyes fluttered up to the other, making no comment of the matter. He pulled away and quietly made notes on the paper.
“I think that should be it for today,” Yeosang told the taller, the chirp in his voice gone.
“Uhm,” Mingi struggled. “So for the payment…”
“$200 by the end of the semester. Sorry I can’t do anything more, I’m on a budget.”
Mingi shuddered at the sudden change of mood.
“That’s fine. We already agreed on it through text, I just wanted to confirm.” Mingi looked around while Yeosang played with threads on a stitched clothed with the fabric scissors. He didn’t know what else to do other than retreat. The taller swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and twisted the doorknob. “Well… I’ll see you when I see you.”
“See you.”
The knob closed with a click, and the two boys scrunched their eyes close in embarrassment.
What the hell?
Mingi tried not to think about Yeosang often; he distracted himself with school work and exams, too busy to fret over a dumb crush. When he received a message informing him of their next meeting, he was almost surprised. It’d be embarrassing if he got another erection this second time, so he trained himself to think of things he didn’t like about Yeosang every time he found the other attractive. He was worried Yeosang would file for borderline sexual harassment, if he hadn’t considered it already, wondering if he was being set up and cops would actually be waiting for him in the Art Education room. Against all his worries, when Mingi arrived, the boy was alone again.
“I have something for you to try out,” was Yeosang’s greeting, the initial bright tone in his voice returning.
“Good morning to you too,” Mingi replied.
“Not much time for casualties, Myungsoo.” Yeosang raised an aqua colored PVC cloth above his head, airing it lightly. “There’s going to be a Saturday art class going on in this classroom in two hours, so we gotta get things done quick. C’mere.”
“It’s Mingi,” the taller corrected as he neared the other, putting his messenger bag on a table. “My name’s Mingi.”
“Right, sorry!” Yeosang grinned as he turned towards the taller, poking his tongue out slightly. Mingi told himself to not forgive the boy for not remembering his name, no matter how pretty he was.
Yeosang gave Mingi a quick glance. “Well, you’re a grown ass man; you can get out of your clothes yourself, right?”
“Huh?”
Yeosang gestured the blue cloth in his hands. “I don’t think it’ll fit over your clothes.”
“Oh,” Mingi replied. He pulled off his sweater and started unbuttoning his inner shirt, not knowing where to look. Yeosang had the yellow measuring tape hanging by his neck, and he tiptoed around pieces of the aqua PVC that lay on the floor, picking up paper scraps and safety pins and a pencil. When Mingi threw his clothes on top of his bag, Yeosang approached to put the bright blue top over Mingi’s shoulders. The taller slid his arms through the holes on the side, sleeves absent. Yeosang offered to button the front, the transparent buttons and its paired holes in odd places that Mingi didn’t know how to match them up. Yeosang stepped back and observed his work, his stare untelling to Mingi. He started scribbling something on the paper and came back, pulling and folding the cloth. Mingi again didn’t know where to look, so he looked out the window on the opposite side. The weather was starting to warm up, and Mingi himself had resolved to just sweaters lately. Mingi could see Yeosang’s lightweight padded jacket lying on the floor over what looked like his backpack.
“It’s been getting warmer,” Mingi said in a low grumble, trying to strike up a conversation.
“Really? Hadn’t noticed,” Yeosang replied. It was near April and he hadn’t felt the warmth? Mingi didn’t know what to make of it. Soon Yeosang repelled himself and grabbed cylindrical fabrics from the worktable, pulling Mingi’s arms through them and pinning it onto the armholes of the shirt. Yeosang asked if it felt comfortable, and Mingi nodded, only half sure. The blond then returned to his backpack, pulling out a plastic bag filled with bright red feathers. Mingi’s lower lip jutted out as Yeosang started arranging the feathers in a line that started on Mingi’s shoulder, tacking them into place. Mingi didn’t complain when the pins pricked him; at least it occasionally woke him from his wandering daydreams.
It was like that the next time they met as well, but Yeosang was already working on a different piece; a moss green jacket that hung loose on Mingi’s shoulders, its fabric a matted mixture of cotton and spandex, falling softly on Mingi’s lean silhouette. Mingi pretended he didn’t see Yeosang gulp a little after stepping back, watching Mingi’s bare torso a second too long before looking away for his notes. It was what the scrap papers were, Mingi noted; Yeosang didn’t have a notebook, just scraps of paper that he eventually folded along with the fabrics of the piece he’s working on.
Yeosang’s red ears made Mingi nervous, so he tried to make conversation again.
“You don’t listen to music while working?” Mingi asked bravely.
“Oh,” Yeosang looked around for his phone. “I do, I thought it’d be distracting though, for you.”
“I’m just standing here,” Mingi stated matter of factly.
“Right,” Yeosang grinned nervously. He unlocked his phone and handed it over to Mingi. “Here, I have a bluetooth speaker, you can just play whatever you want.”
Mingi browsed Yeosang’s music player. He had Justin Bieber as his last played, and Mingi tried his best to not pull a judgemental face. Mingi searched for Kid Milli and a song started playing through a round speaker on a table past Yeosang’s chosen worktable. Yeosang didn’t comment on it; instead he pulled out a pair of pants from his bag (today it was a big brown canvas bag) and aired it before handing it over to Mingi.
“Do you mind putting this on, Mingyu?”
“Mingi,” Mingi reminded, taking the pants from Yeosang timidly.
“Sorry,” Yeosang chuckled lightly. “And can I have the jacket? I wanna work on some beading.”
Mingi felt bare as he walked into a corner where Yeosang wouldn’t see him, exchanging his jeans for the similar cotton and spandex mix, slightly thinner with the absence of lining, its cuffs elastic and snugged at Mingi’s ankles. Yeosang seemed focused on his sowing so Mingi approached the table quietly, sitting on a stool nearby and resting his face in his palm. White pearl beads scattered on one side, a few on the jacket as Yeosang stitched them onto the jacket carefully by hand. The music suddenly felt too loud for Mingi’s comfort.
“Your pieces always seem… embezzled,” Mingi commented, almost at a whisper.
“Yea?” Yeosang smiled, but he didn’t look up. “You should see some of my classmate’s pieces. Honestly, I’m probably not brave enough.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t know, maybe a mix of wanting it to look classy and wearable, instead of something a dog chewed up and threw back out, but also wanting it to be abstracted into something more meaningful. I wanted to experiment with color too, but I always go back to… this.” Yeosang gestured at the darker fabric he was working on. Mingi noted that it was more subdued color than what he had the last time.
“Are any of these for your final piece?”
“They’ll all be displayed at the end of the year. I’m not sure if I wanna show diversity or have them be a set theme.”
“They could be a theme,” Mingi bargained. “Like, maybe a pattern theme. Since a color theme is out of the question.”
Yeosang raised an eyebrow at the taller. “You have a lot to comment on, for a math genius.”
Mingi raised his hands to his sides in defense. “It’s just a suggestion. Sorry if I overstepped.”
Yeosang sighed. “No, you’re not wrong. I’ll take it into account, thanks. I’m just glad you’ll look good in anything.”
He listens to Justin Bieber, Mingi reminded himself. And he still doesn’t know your name.
The following week, Mingi wondered if he was right to push Yeosang to experiment more when they had another meeting in the Art Education room. On his waist was a loose floral patterned cotton fabric in different shades of brown, pinned on a waistband, in the earlier stage of its make. Mingi felt the breeze through the holes of the piece, cooling his crotch area. He wondered if his neon green boxers showed through. Yeosang rubbed his chin as he observed from afar, not making a fuss over it if it did.
“I wanted to make a skirt piece,” Yeosang mumbled to himself as he approached Mingi to pull the hem higher, revealing Mingi’s calloused knees. “Seems your legs are a bit muscular for the soft look.”
“Sorry,” Mingi said guiltily, trying not to kick away Yeosang’s hand as it accidentally tickled the side of Mingi’s thigh.
“No no, it’s fine,” Yeosang sighed softly, then smiling up at Mingi reassuringly. “I think I just need a different material, for a stronger piece. Song Minni, you’ll be modelling a skirt for my finals. Aren’t you excited?”
“Mingi,” Mingi corrected again. So close. Yeosang giggled at the comment, making Mingi’s heart skip a beat. He went back to the table and grabbed a top which he draped over the taller’s shoulders. It was a loose kimono wrap with a brown sash on the waist that Yeosang pulled gently as he tied it loosely against Mingi’s front. The floral motif was similar to the skirt’s but with greens and reds accentuating the pattern, bright against Mingi’s black tank top on the inside.
“It’s too bad that we couldn’t pull it off, the top’s perfect.” Mingi was sure Yeosang hinted something in those words; how he said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, how his breath fell hot on Mingi’s neck, how Yeosang’s eyelids fluttered as he glanced up at the taller, how his hand rested a second too long on Mingi’s chest. He felt a bit of death from the obscurity as Yeosang backed up and returned his focus on the top, pulling himself into a deep thought. Mingi tried to force thoughts of how imperfect Yeosang was (Justin Bieber, the name, the skirt, on a mantra) when he heard the nearby door creak open.
“Yeosang?” a man about an inch shorter than Yeosang peeped in, his eyes round and bright, nose at a perfect tip, a lime green beanie on his silver head.
“Hongjoong!” Yeosang gasped in surprise. “Hey! Come on in.”
“You’re not busy, are you?” the man stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He had a sharp grin on his face and a black leather jacket over his printed tee and jeans. The man dressed to impress, Mingi noted to himself. In contrast, Yeosang often chose light colored shirts that were probably too thin for the weather. Maybe that was why he couldn’t feel the warmth of Spring coming. “Thought I’d come by and say hi, do some recon.”
“Not really, in fact I probably need to head out again. Need to buy new materials.”
“Oof, did something go wrong?”
“Just a change of idea.” Yeosang explained how a stronger look would suit Mingi better compared to the floral skirt he had on now, and how he might have to rely on uncomfortable PVC again. Hongjoong came closer to the unintroduced model, playing with the fabric loosely and pinning on sides as he demonstrated to Yeosang how the problem could be dealt with.
“And I have some extra brown leather in my locker if you want it; you don’t have to scrap the whole idea, just make it more subtle.”
“That sounds great!” Yeosang smiled, brighter than Mingi had ever seen him. Yeosang usually appeared a few hours lacked of sleep, often mumbling to himself, assuming that Mingi wouldn’t have much input in what ran through his mind, and Mingi didn’t disagree. For the first time, Mingi saw that Yeosang was in the company of someone who understood his point of view. He watched as Yeosang bit his lower lip before asking. “Also, since you’re here, do you mind looking through my other works? I’m getting a bit anxious about presenting them for finals.”
“Sure,” Hongjoong smiled. He sat on a stool near a table and pulled out an energy bar. “I haven’t seen much of your stuff too, it’ll be fun.”
Mingi felt nervous as Yeosang started undoing his clothes in front of the stranger and putting on the aqua blue PVC suit. Yeosang was buttoning on the short sleeve top when Mingi looked up to meet Hongjoong’s eyes.
“I’m Mingi by the way.”
“Hongjoong,” the other replied, food bunched on one side of his cheeks. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Sorry,” Yeosang apologized in a whisper, grinning hastily. “You don’t mind modeling for my friend for a bit, do you?”
“Of course not.”
Yeosang seemed more nervous than usual, but Mingi didn’t question it. It probably had something to do with the presence of the other, and he didn’t want to embarrass Yeosang. The boy left another gentle caress on Mingi’s chest before stepping back to observe the piece next to Hongjoong. They threw comments on the placement of the red feathers and how it could trace all the way down to the darker blue pants of the similar material, its bottoms flared slightly, making a reference to 70’s fashion. Yeosang explained that he wanted to sew on some ruffles near the pants pockets, but it might contrast the feather’s texture too much. Hongjoong made a few more suggestions that Yeosang noted down, then they repeated the cycle with the moss green jacket ensemble. Yeosang let Mingi keep his black tank top on while modeling for Hongjoong. By the end of it, Mingi felt like he understood 10% more about art and fashion, ‘felt’ being the keyword; he wouldn’t dare contribute in a critique for Yeosang’s pieces any time soon after hearing Hongjoong’s more eloquent vocabulary.
“Overall, you can kinda see your background in painting with all of these,” Hongjoong grinned. “You probably don’t see it yourself. Your color experiments, and your sense of composition.”
“You don’t mean that,” Yeosang brushed off.
“No, really,” Hongjoong sat up straight. “It’s really abstract compared to what I’ve seen in your class. You just need to work on your sowing. Neaten up the basics. You’ve got what it takes, trust me.”
Mingi watched as Yeosang smiled shyly. It confirmed his suspicions; Yeosang had a crush on this dude. An addition to the list of How to Not Be Attracted to Yeosang. Hongjoong excused himself to get the leather fabric he had aforementioned.
“Do you like him?” Mingi grinned playfully.
“What?” Yeosang whispered. “No, he’s just an upperclassman. He has an impressive portfolio. I look up to him.”
“Right.” Mingi undid his clothes and Yeosang came nearer to help. “I didn’t know you had a painting background.”
“I changed my concentration over a year ago,” Yeosang stated monotonously, piling pieces of clothes on his forearm. “Painting was a solitary experience; now I work with people, make new friends. It’s fun.”
“You still work alone though,” Mingi observed. Yeosang looked up at Mingi, unsaid words hiding behind his doe-like eyes.
“And why do you think I do that?”
Hongjoong stepped through the door, then pulled back at the sight of the two.
“Whoops, sorry to burst into you guys like that,” he exclaimed, slightly embarrassed.
Mingi started to say something before Yeosang walked past him, nearing the door to accept Hongjoong’s leather with a smile. “Thanks for this. I owe you.”
The rest of the day was quiet; Mingi didn’t want to bring up their conversation, and Yeosang didn’t mention it either. He did last minute fittings, and they didn’t see each other until a day before Yeosang’s finals critique. Yeosang had made the final design changes and Mingi was in just to make sure the pieces would stay sound as he wore them, tying up loose ends and amateurly gluing things together. Yeosang had added two white plastic ribs to contrast the pearls on the green jacket, and the pockets of the dark blue PVC pants were now lined with soft feathers that matched the ones that crossed its top piece. He had gotten braver with his designs, Mingi thought to himself, and tastefully so.
They had reached the final piece; the skirt outfit, which Mingi saw had fit him better than he had expected. Yeosang had kept the soft floral cloth, a loose cut that fell over Mingi’s knees, softening his otherwise boxy legs, lined with a comfortable cream colored fabric. The patterned fabric stopped halfway around Mingi’s right thigh and continued with the brown leather that Hongjoong had offered, going all the way to the back. Transparent fabrics were sown onto the waistbands, falling gracefully against the two contrasting materials to harmonize them. Yeosang made a loud mental note to bring stockings for Mingi tomorrow, making the taller blush at the thought. The kimono top fell perfectly on Mingi’s shoulders, the hem ending just by Mingi’s butt, the loose fit accentuating the skirt’s waistband against Mingi’s lean abdomen. Yeosang told Mingi to wear his usual black tank top tomorrow with this outfit.
“How do you feel?” Yeosang sighed softly as the two watched the taller through a tall mirror; Yeosang had pulled it in earlier along with the three mannequins that he had kept his works on.
“Nervous,” Mingi admitted. “It looks great, but I don’t know if I can pull it off.”
“You’re already pulling it off, don’t worry ‘bout that,” Yeosang smiled reassuringly. Justin Bieber. Name. Crush on upperclassman. Repeat.
Mingi turned his hip, looking at himself from a different angle, then hugged his torso, rubbing his arms anxiously. “You mean that, right? I mean, I feel okay, but I have to make sure I’m not being delusional.”
Yeosang clicked his tongue. “Trust me, so many people are gonna thirst over you after they see you in this. Did I mention you’re the perfect model material? You look gorgeous.”
Mingi felt blood rush through his head. The mantra wasn’t working, and he had to turn to look at Yeosang with his own eyes instead of through the mirror. “How sure are you?”
Yeosang found Mingi’s stare, irises jumping, looking for something that was left a mystery between them. “I’m about a hundred percent sure,” he whispered.
Mingi didn’t know what he was doing, but he assumed Yeosang knew better for not pulling away when Mingi lowered his face near his own. Mingi felt his warm breath on Yeosang’s lips before he touched them softly, then feeling the moisture, he pressed on harder, separating his lips to nurse Yeosang’s lower lip. Yeosang’s hands trailed on Mingi’s sides, up to his shoulders where he clung on. Mingi pulled Yeosang in, settling himself on a nearby table and letting the other lean into him as their tongues meet, thirsty for the other’s kiss. Mingi felt a burst of pleasure spread through his bloodstream. It was always Yeosang touching him; adjusting a hem here, tugging a cloth there. Now he could feel Yeosang’s warmth on his palms, his hands travelling down Yeosang’s back, observing the smoothness that led to his ass. Mingi squeezed it, making Yeosang gasp slightly at the touch. He wanted so much more, one hand feeling Yeosang’s arm, and the other going down his thigh. He let Yeosang feel him too, hands on Mingi’s waist and thumbs caressing his abdomen, making Mingi heat up with every brush. He pulled away slightly, staring at the other in a daze as he held Yeosang’s soft cheeks.
“Um,” Mingi hesitated.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you okay with this?”
“Yes? I mean,” Yeosang pulled back, holding himself up with his hands on the table. “Are you … not okay with this?”
“I’m good! I mean, like,” Mingi stuttered. “I thought- Hongjoong-”
Yeosang stretched his lips to the sides. “I told you I look up to him, that’s it.” He stepped back, crossing his arms against his chest as if considering something. He then took a strand of hair, pushing it behind his ear awkwardly. “What made you think I wasn’t interested?”
“You don’t even know my name.”
Yeosang laughed gleefully. “So it worked!”
“What worked?”
“I was just messing with you, about the name thing.”
“You mean you forgot on purpose?”
“Your number is literally saved on my phone as Song Mingi. Did you really think I’d forget?”
Mingi scoffed. “Why did you do that?”
“For fun, or maybe, I just didn’t wanna appear super into you just because you got a boner the first time we met.” His own version of How to Not Be Attracted to Song Mingi. Yeosang chuckled. “Also your face every time I say it wrong is so funny.”
“So you only like me for my dick.”
“That and your pretty abs, and your broad shoulders-”
“Like a boy toy then?”
Yeosang grinned. “Like a pretty dress up doll. You don’t like that?”
Mingi pulled the other by the waist and gave him a sloppy kiss, making Yeosang giggle into his teeth.
“I love it.”
He went in for another kiss, taking Yeosang’s knees up to his side so he could feel Mingi’s hardened length against his crotch, the soft fabric of the skirt riding up Mingi’s thighs, wrinkling messily against Yeosang’s jeans.
“God, you’re so pretty,” Mingi breathed.
Yeosang slipped his hand under the skirt, trailing Mingi’s thick thigh and stopping near his crotch, tracing Mingi’s hip bone. He left a wet kiss on Mingi’s cheek. “I can’t believe I made you look even more fuckable than you already were.”
Mingi’s breath hitched under Yeosang’s touch, his glare soft but still controlling, making Mingi’s shoulders melt as he felt Yeosang’s hot breath on his ear. Mingi rested his face against Yeosang’s neck and softly kissed it, leaving wet trails. Yeosang felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, rutting his own tightened crotch against Mingi’s abdomen, feeling Mingi’s hardness against his clothed hole. Their mouths latched onto each other again, hands grabbing onto whatever they could. Yeosang pulled Mingi’s boxers down, catching the length and stroking it gently under him, feeling the precum on the tip wet his palm.
“It’s gonna stain,” Mingi told.
“Then I’ll make sure I don’t miss a single drop.” Yeosang dropped on his knees and took the dick with his mouth, hands clenching on Mingi’s hips, unseen beneath the skirt. Mingi groaned, grabbing the back of Yeosang’s head over the fabric as he felt sparks in his head. A few moments later, as he sank into the pleasure of Yeosang’s tongue wrapping around his length, he raised the skirt to reveal platinum blond hair, like clouds between his thighs, frizzed from the friction. His head is so round, Mingi thought to himself. Yeosang looked up, his eyes darkened with lust, tears forming as he took the dick in his hollowed mouth, making Mingi’s breath hitch again.
“You’re doing so good,” Mingi whispered. Yeosang flushed at the praise, pushing himself as far as he could. Mingi bottomed out, clutching onto Yeosang’s already tousled hair and staying in place as his whole dick felt tightness and moisture, the other holding back his gag reflex. Warmth filled his twitching stomach, and he bucked into Yeosang’s mouth before cum sputtered into the hollow throat. Yeosang swallowed the thick liquid as Mingi pulled back in slow thrusts, then wiped away spit from his lips with his sleeve, looking up adoringly at the taller.
“See? Perfectly clean. This skirt was made for you.”
Mingi pulled Yeosang up into a kiss, then turned him towards the table behind him, laying him gently on top of it.
“I think I should say this properly before we go any further,” Mingi said, tasting the cum on Yeosang’s tongue. His pupils were blown out but he didn't care if Yeosang saw it; he wanted to look the boy in his doe-like eyes. “Kang Yeosang, will you go out with me?”
Yeosang let out a soft chuckle, a blush spreading across his cheeks, lips red and swollen. Mingi swore he had never seen a prettier smile in his entire life.
“Of course, Song Mingi.”
--
“I’m still getting my $200, right?”
“You literally just deepthroated me, and you want more pay?”