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Geonhak sighs with relief when he finally pulls off his sweat-soaked jersey. The locker room is empty, unsurprising considering how many people pulled Geonhak aside after the game — Coach, classmates, his parents, Youngjo who played cornerback for the university he’d absolutely reamed, but had been Geonhak’s best friend since diapers.
“Ah shit,” Youngjo had said when they realized the stands had emptied out while they were talking. “Get changed and meet me at my mom’s? We can watch a movie and kick it?”
“Sure, man,” Geonhak agreed. “Gimme an hour.”
Which is what found him here, alone, peeling padding off of his body with a scrunched nose. He loved football, but honestly he was glad that he was in his final year of playing, if only to not have to deal with the gear and how disgusting it got after every game.
“Hey.”
Geonhak jumps, and with his leggings halfway down his legs he ends up tripping into one of the benches and falls back onto it, sit bones smarting from the force of his landing. He can see the outline of someone leaning against the lockers across from him, face hidden by the shadows of the emergency lights. Even so, Geonhak knows who it is. He can recognize the short stature just as much as he can register the voice.
Geonhak mostly knows Hwanwoong from the sidelines of the field where he cheers with an enthusiasm and sexiness that is definitely distracting. Hwanwoong made cheer captain the fall of his freshman year, previously unheard of, and his solo dances during half-time pulled just as many people to games as Geonhak’s winning streak. Maybe more.
They haven’t talked much, but there’s been a couple of times that Geonhak has bumped into him at parties. He likes to talk to Hwanwoong, but they run in different circles, and it’s hard sometimes to keep up with someone who has a new boyfriend every week and is a workaholic. So their interactions have been limited to flirty remarks on the field or coy suggestions in hallways or the occasional drunken kiss in dark kitchens.
“Hey,” Geonhak finally says when he realizes that he’s just been sitting with his pants around his knees. Hwanwoong steps forward so that his face is illuminated, swaying his hips and, by doing so, swishing the red skirt that’s part of the girls uniform. Geonhak’s cheeks get hot and his mouth goes dry.
“You, um,” he says, pausing to swallow. “You weren’t wearing that while you were cheering.”
Hwanwoong’s lips quirk up into a smile, expression coy. Enticing. He looks like he’s still performing, daring everyone in the stands to fall in love with him, and Geonhak is helpless to it.
“You noticed me?” Hwanwoong asks, dragging a finger along his bare thigh, lifting the hem just slightly before he lets it drop. He must follow Geonhak’s gaze because his smile widens. “You played really well today, Geonhak.”
“Um.” Geonhak isn’t normally this flustered about compliments, isn't normally so tongue-tied, but he never knows what to do with himself around Hwanwoong.
Hwanwoong laughs, and then he’s crawling into Geonhak’s lap, strong hands tangling in his hair and smooth thighs bracketing Geonhak’s own. Geonhak stiffens. His whole body goes hot and then cold and then hot again, burning from the inside out. He starts to grab Hwanwoong’s hips, then chickens out and grips the bench instead.
“What—“ his voice sticks in his throat. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t this how it goes in movies?” Hwanwoong purrs against the shell of his ear. “Football star plays a good game and his slutty girlfriend fucks him as a reward?”
“You want to fuck me?”
Hwanwoong pulls back just enough for Geonhak to catch the way the fluorescent light glints in his eyes before he leans in and kisses him, hard and filthy. Hwanwoong’s tongue is thick in Geonhak’s mouth and his lips are thin and chapped and his teeth are small and sharp, but Geonhak loves it. He always loves kissing Hwanwoong, loves how rough he gets, loves that he can just yield to the force of him. Geonhak presents himself to Hwanwoong, keeps his lips loose and pliant for Hwanwoong to do whatever he wants with him, and Hwanwoong spares him no mercy. He sucks on Geonhak’s tongue and bites his lips and along his jaw. He sucks a mark into his neck, bites hard enough that Geonhak knows he’s drawing blood.
“Are you afraid to touch me?” Hwanwoong whispers, and Geonhak realizes that he hasn’t released his death grip on the bench. “That’s so cute, Hak.”
“I—“ Geonhak’s words get stuck in his throat as Hwanwoong starts on another hickey. He has questions, so many questions. Aren’t you dating that pastel pretty boy? The one with the makeup Instagram? Don’t you normally go for pretty guys? Do you really want this? Want me?
“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” he finally says, and Hwanwoong releases his bruised skin with a loud pop and scrape of his teeth.
“A girl?”
Geonhak shakes his head, and Hwanwoong’s expression softens. He hadn’t even noticed the slight pinch between his brows until they smoothed out.
“Who, then? A boyfriend?”
Geonhak shakes his head again. “Youngjo,” he says. “He plays for—“
“Oh, I know Youngjo,” Hwanwoong says with a soft laugh. “He won’t mind if you’re late.”
“I should—“ Hwanwoong kisses down his neck and starts to roll his hips in small circles, and for a moment language completely escapes Geonhak. He’s sweaty and his underwear is sticking uncomfortably to his skin, but he feels like if Hwanwoong stops moving against him he may actually die. “I should tell him.”
“So tell him.” Hwanwoong straightens up and places both of his hands on Geonhak’s shoulders. At first Geonhak thinks that he’s going to get up, but then Hwanwoong grinds down even harder, with purpose, helped by the leverage of Geonhak’s shoulders. His mouth drops open, and Geonhak realizes, as he gasps, that Hwanwoong is mirroring his own expression.
“You can even call him if you want,” Hwanwoong continues, rolling his ass against Geonhak’s hardening dick. “I don’t mind if he listens.”
Geonhak groans and grabs Hwanwoong’s hips, thrusting up against him as he crashes their mouths together. Hwanwoong chuckles against his mouth, and it’s amazing how even while trying to take control Geonhak still feels completely untethered. He thinks that maybe he will always feel untethered around Hwanwoong. Hwanwoong is magnetic; no one stands a chance against him.
“I didn’t know you were into that,” Hwanwoong says with a Cheshire Cat grin “If I’d known I would have just fucked you on the field.”
Geonhak whines. He moves his hands to Hwanwoong’s thighs, running his fingers along the smooth skin and up under his skirt. He doesn’t run into fabric, no underwear to stop his wandering hands, and he whines again.
“Thought you’d like that,” Hwanwoong says, his voice colored with laughter. “Most straight guys do.”
If Geonhak wasn’t so overwhelmed by Hwanwoong’s smooth skin and the general amazement of Hwanwoong in his lap, he’d probably do a double take. As it is, he just stares at Hwanwoong, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“I’m…not straight,” he says slowly. Hwanwoong’s eyebrows also slant down, and Geonhak briefly wonders what people would think of they were walked in on right now. How ridiculous do they look, half naked and staring at each other with furrowed brows and gaping mouths.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Geonhak’s voice has a slightly defensive edge to it. “I mean I’m not — why would you think I was straight? We’ve kissed.”
“At parties ,” Hwanwoong says. “When you were drunk. ”
“I’ve never been drunk drunk—“
“And haven’t you fucked all the girls on the squad?” Hwanwoong’s face is pinched again, and he leans so far back that Geonhak instinctively supports his low back to keep him from toppling backwards. “Girls talk, you know.”
That accusation isn’t entirely inaccurate. There was a period, in his first few weeks at university, where Geonhak made the rounds through the cheer squad and through the sororities. He was a people pleaser, loved to make people happy, and once word got out about how eager Geonhak was to get between someone’s legs, he wasn’t short of offers.
It got tiresome though, the endless girls who’s names he never learned and who never asked for or offered their number. So he stopped. And he dated a couple of people, men and women, but it never seemed to work out.
“I haven’t fucked a girl on the squad in years,” is what Geonhak says, and Hwanwoong traces his finger along Geonhak’s jaw.
“How about a guy?”
“It’s just been you,” Geonhak answers, and Hwanwoong scoffs, but his cheeks flush a pretty pink.
“You haven’t fucked me.”
“Not yet,” Geonhak says. He’s aiming for cocky. Self-assured. He’s aiming to sound like the captain of a team that just won a season championship, but he doesn’t. He sounds hopeful and eager, ready to lap up anything Hwanwoong is willing to give him. And based on the way Hwanwoong looks at him, eyes suddenly sharp, he knows it.
“I’ve got another idea,” Hwanwoong says. He kisses the tip of Geonhak’s nose and then slides off of his lap. He leans against the lockers beside him and fiddles with the hem of his skirt, teasing at tantalizingly pale skin. Geonhak can see that he’s hard, can see the slight tent in the pleated fabric, and his spit wells like a Pavlovian response.
“I hear that you’re good with your tongue,” Hwanwoong murmurs, lifting his skirt so that Geonhak gets the briefest hint of his cock. “Do you want to show me?”
Geonhak is on his knees before his brain can even catch up with what he’s doing. His leggings are still bunched around his knees, and he’s thankful for the slightly extra cushion as he crawls towards Hwanwoong and runs his hands up his legs.
Hwanwoong shaves. Or waxes. His legs are smooth to the touch and corded with muscle, promising a strength that Geonhak never forgets that Hwanwoong has. He’s watched Hwanwoong long enough to know that he could probably rip Geonhak to pieces if he set his mind to it.
Geonhak glances up at Hwanwoong, looking for any sign that he may not want this, but Hwanwoong just runs his fingers through his hair and smiles.
“Go on,” he coos, and Geonhak drags his lips along the inside of Hwanwoong’s thigh. He watches through his lashes and he kisses his way up and under the skirt, watches the way Hwanwoong bites his lip, watches the way his eyes seem to get impossibly darker. He notices that Hwanwoong responds more when Geonhak is a little rougher, when he drags his teeth along the skin, or nips sharply at the junction between hip and thigh. Hwanwoong hisses, blunt nails digging into Geonhak’s scalp as he tugs his hair, and Geonhak loves it.
“Are you going to suck my cock or not?” Hwanwoong grits out when Geonhak starts on the other thigh, and Geonhak just hums.
Perhaps it’s weird to admit that he’s dreamt of this. Not of this exactly— never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined Hwanwoong in a skirt — but he’s thought of Hwanwoong. He’s craved him even though he’s been too shy to ask for more than what Hwanwoong already offered him. He wants to make this last, wants to be the best. He wants Hwanwoong to maybe call him, maybe kiss him somewhere besides someone’s shitty bathroom or an empty locker room.
Hwanwoong tugs his hair suddenly, hard enough to pull Geonhak’s mouth away from from his thigh. It rips a moan out of him, the sudden pain and loss of control sending a rush of heat down his spine.
Hwanwoong adjusts his grip on Geonhak’s hair and then shoves his head in between his legs, and Geonhak just opens his mouth and lets Hwanwoong’s cock slip in between his lips.
Geonhak has a small mouth, but Hwanwoong doesn’t seem to care. He shoves Geonhak’s head down, shoves and shoves until his mouth is full, until Hwanwoong hits the back of his throat, until he coughs and gags and sputters and only then does Hwanwoong pull back. Just a little, just enough for Geonhak to take a sharp breath in through his nose, before he’s shoving Geonhak back down.
And on it goes, Hwanwoong moving Geonhak exactly how he wants him, shoving in completely before he pulls off, as if Geonhak is nothing more than an oversized fleshlight. Geonhak has never thought of himself as submissive in bed, has never thought about being used, but he finds that he wants nothing more than for Hwanwoong to do exactly that. He wants Hwanwoong to take everything he wants; he doesn’t even care if he comes or not. Nothing else matters. Nothing matters beyond Hwanwoong’s choked off moans and the way he holds up his skirt with one hand and the way he rocks his hips into Geonhak’s mouth. Nothing matters beyond the way Hwanwoong says: “that’s it baby, just like that” over and over like he’s saying a prayer.
He doesn’t expect it when Hwanwoong tugs his hair and pulls him off. His teeth catch on the head of Hwanwoong’s cock, and the sudden emptiness in his mouth makes him feel a little hollow, a little lost. He whines and scrambles at Hwanwoong’s hips, desperate to get him back, but Hwanwoong pulls on his hair so hard that it hurts.
“Stay,” Hwanwoong says, voice low and stern like he’s talking to a bad dog, and for a moment Geonhak’s stomach swoops all the way to his throat. He stills, even places his hands on his knees, and Hwanwoong smiles at him. He releases his hair and runs his fingers down along Geonhak’s cheek before he cups his chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Geonhak can feel the way his dick throbs, can feel the way he’s started to leak, beads of precum gathering inside of his shorts. He’s sure that Hwanwoong knows, too, is sure because Hwanwoong has the filthiest smile on his face, even as he leans back and starts to pull at his cock.
It’s still shiny with Geonhak’s spit and it’s flushed a deep red. Precum drips down the shaft and gathers in between Hwanwoong’s fingers. Geonhak’s mouth waters, and he finds himself rocking in time to Hwanwoong’s hand, desperate to be a part of the pleasure that Hwanwoong is feeling.
Hwanwoong drags his thumb over Geonhak’s bottom lip, presses down, and then shoves two fingers into his mouth. He pushes on Geonhak’s tongue, and Geonhak lets his mouth fall open, lets the spit drip down along his chin. Hwanwoong’s breathing picks up, loud and ragged, and Geonhak can feel the tremble in his body through his fingertips.
“So good,” Hwanwoong groans. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”
Hwanwoong’s hips stutter suddenly, and then there’s warmth hitting Geonhak’s cheek. Hwanwoong shakes as he comes, and his moans are airy and high pitched, matched in time to each rope of cum that gathers on Geonhak’s nose, his lips, his neck. When he’s done, Hwanwoong presses the head of his cock against Geonhak’s cheek and smears the mess with a low hum.
“If only the girls could see you now,” he murmurs, undisguised glee in his voice. “Can I take a picture?”
Geonhak should say no. He knows the risk of compromising pictures, even though he doesn’t think Hwanwoong would do anything with them. He should say no, but Hwanwoong is looking at him like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world, like he’s a work of art, and beyond that Geonhak would probably do anything that Hwanwoong asked for. He nods, and Hwanwoong pulls out his phone from the waistband of his skirt. He hums as he aims the camera at him. Geonhak has no idea how many pictures he’s taking, if he’s taking any, or how he looks, but he looks into the small lens anyway. He wonders if Hwanwoong can see it, how much Geonhak is whipped for him.
Hwanwoong tucks his phone back with a small flourish, then lets his skirt flutter back around the tops of his thighs, hiding his softening cock. He runs his fingers through Geonhak’s hair with a low hum.
“What to do with you?” He muses. He slides a white sneakered foot forward, just enough to put a slight pressure on Geonhak’s cock. The sound that tumbles out of Geonhak’s mouth is too loud, too needy, and Hwanwoong laughs.
“My, you are just a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He presses his foot harder against Geonhak’s crotch, and Geonhak rocks against him without thinking. Hwanwoong runs his fingers through Geonhak’s hair again, then grips it and tugs lightly.
“Go ahead Geonhak,” he whispers. “Hump my leg until you come.”
And it should be embarrassing, the way Geonhak immediately clutches at Hwanwoong’s thigh so that he can rut against his foot. It should be mortifying, the way his hips roll desperately against Hwanwoong’s sneaker. But Geonhak can’t think past how good it feels, can’t think past Hwanwoong’s beautiful face and fond expression, can’t think past the comforting feeling of fingers combing through his hair.
“I’m gonna come,” he whines. His dick aches and he feels wound up and too hot. Everything is too hot and so good. “Fuck Hwanwoong I’m gonna—“
“Go on then,” Hwanwoong says, tilting his foot up so that it presses against Geonhak’s balls. “Make a mess for me.”
Geonhak tries to muffle his moan into Hwnawoong’s thigh, but it still echoes throughout the locker room. His cum leaks through his shorts, smears onto Hwanwoong’s sneaker, leaving a shiny streak that is hardly noticeable but still makes Geonhak’s stomach flip with an emotion that he isn’t ready to name. Hwanwoong continues to play with his hair as he comes down, only pulling away when Geonhak sits up.
“Um, thanks,” he finally manages to say after a few moments of awkward silence. “For my reward.”
Hwanwoong sniffs and shrugs. He adjusts his skirt, fiddling with the pleats.
“It was fun,” he says with a forced nonchalance that makes Geonhak feel a little queasy. “You should get to Youngjo.”
“Yeah, uh—“ but Hwanwoong is gone before Geonhak can even stand, just a wisp of red fabric around the lockers and then nothing. Geonhak heaves a sigh, drags himself to the shower, and pretends that the ache he feels in his chest is from a tackle during the game.
He doesn’t see Hwanwoong, but three days later his phone buzzes with a text from a number he doesn’t recognize. There is a picture attached, and Geonhak’s mouth goes dry at the sight of himself, on his knees, eyes hazy, cum smeared on his face.
unknown: I’ve jerked off to this so much already.
Warmth prickles Geonhak’s ears as he saves Hwanwoong into his phone.
geonhak: you can always have the real thing
geonhak: if you want
A response doesn’t come for a long time, but when it does, it has Geonhak scrambling for his keys.
hwanwoong: if you think you can keep up with me
hwanwoong : cum on over ;)