“Junhui, I swear to god if you poke me with that pen again I’ll fucking shove it down your throat,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath to the brunet next to him, hissing and swatting at Junhui’s hand when it comes dangerously close to his cheek once more; pen in hand and ready to poke him again. Junhui just grabs Wonwoo’s hand with his free one, moves it away, and pokes Wonwoo anyway. Wonwoo grunts in annoyance and frowns as he turns to narrow his eyes at Junhui, who just looks at him with a sated smile.
Wonwoo turns back to the front of class. Their Theology 101 professor, Mr. Branson - some short old man with black rimmed glasses and greying hair - is at the front of the lecture hall, going over something nobody really cares about in that loud monotonous voice of his that echos in the near empty room. Wonwoo is pretty sure less than half the class showed up to the afternoon lecture because Junhui and he are the only ones seated anywhere close to the back, and the only other people who aren’t on their phones, sleeping, or chatting with friends who aren’t even in the class (and making a little bit of a ruckus), are those two religious girls and some Joshua Hong guy who probably goes door to door and asks people if they want to find Jesus on the weekend.
Mr. Branson turns around to the blackboard and grabs a stick of chalk before he begins to write something that Wonwoo can’t see too clearly from the back of the room, but he squints and tries to scribble it down the best he can on this notepad anyway. He’s actually trying to concentrate and ignore the fact that Wen fucking Junhui is next to him and basically breathing down his neck. His head snaps up when he feels a breath ghosting over his ear and he growls a little when Junhui leans in a little closer, hand resting firmly on Wonwoo’s thigh.
“I really wanna suck you off,” Junhui says, voice low and a little hoarse. It makes Wonwoo’s stomach drop, face flush an embarrassing shade of pink - so he pushes Junhui away with a frown and another annoyed grunt. He’s oddly not surprised at the declaration just because it’s so much like Junhui, but to say it didn’t catch him off guard would be a blatant lie.
“We’re in fucking theology class,” Wonwoo gripes, his voice having to be reduced to a whisper because god forbid someone actually overhear their conversation. His eyes search in front of them just in case, but everyone else is either too preoccupied or asleep, and Mr. Branson is paying more attention to the board and the theology textbook he’s reading from to even notice that the two people in the front row are basically eyefucking each other from either side of the room (Wonwoo swears the girl is putting on too much of a show and making it way too obvious, but he’s really not one to talk).
Junhui just shrugs and smiles, hand on Wonwoo’s thigh giving a gentle squeeze before it begins travelling up, and Wonwoo doesn’t feel like he has the heart to actually say no when his eyes flicker over to Junhui’s crotch and sees that he’s already probably half hard. It’s obvious through the jeans he’s wearing and Wonwoo wonders why and how Junhui is getting so turned on by fucking Theology 101 and Mr. Branson’s boring ass narration.
Wonwoo needs to gather his composure though, because they’re in theology class, so he rests his hand atop Junhui’s and shoots the older boy a warning glance, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “I’ll take care of you later,” he whispers to Junhui, eyes flickering from the Chinese boy’s eyes to the front of the class and back again. Junhui shakes his head, biting his bottom lip and his hand continues to move up to Wonwoo’s upper thigh.
“I want you now,” Junhui tells him, but it’s more of a request than a statement, “it’ll be okay.”
“Fuck, what if someone sees us?” Wonwoo hisses at him, fingers grasping Junhui’s hand desperately as the older boy runs it up and down Wonwoo’s thigh slowly. Wonwoo can feel his face burning and his pants start to feel a little tighter than usual. Wonwoo can’t help but think about how hot Junhui would look nestled between his thighs, lips wrapped around his cock so fucking prettily, and he’s regrettably getting hard just from that. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and looking over at Junhui who still has that stupid smile of his plastered over his features, and Wonwoo wants to smack him.
“It’s theology,” Junhui says with a shrug, and Wonwoo feels the warm hand on his upper thigh stop dangerously close to his growing hard on and it’s so extremely distracting. “Nobody pays attention in this class, Wonwoo.” Junhui’s point seems to be emphasised when one of the girls in the corner bursts out laughing from something her friend said and Mr. Branson continues to talk, barely batting an eye at the outburst. “We’re only here because we skipped the last few classes and you wanted to be all good and studious.”
“So, let me be good and studious,” Wonwoo deadpans, removing his hand from Junhui’s and picking up his pen, twirling it in his fingers before he starts writing again, but he’s not even sure of the words that end up on the paper. Junhui’s fingers are so tight around his thigh, so goddamn distracting, but Wonwoo can feel it when Junhui’s hand makes a move again, fingers brushing over the growing bulge in his jeans.
Wonwoo’s breath hitches when he feels Junhui slowly pull down his zipper, hand slipping inside his briefs to pull out his cock, almost half hard already from Junhui’s fucking talk and flushed pink at the head. He feels the heat rise to his face and he’s probably (definitely) completely red. He looks around the room again to see if anyone’s noticed, and it feels like everyone knows, but nobody is facing them or calling out the weird gay couple being gross in the back corner. “God,” whispers Wonwoo, dropping his pen on the table and bracing himself on the edge of the table with his hands when Junhui thumbs over the slit, “you’re so impatient. I promise I’ll let you fuck me later.”
“I’m not as impatient as you are,” teases Junhui, and the brunet shuffles back slightly before ducking down between Wonwoo’s legs to lick at the head of his cock, tongue wet and warm and the whole situation is already enough to make Wonwoo’s head spin, “besides, I said I wanted to suck you.” Junhui murmurs against the side of his cock, and Wonwoo wants to moan, to tell Junhui that if he’s going to suck his dick, he better do it quickly; but he stays quiet, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches Junhui stroke his cock to full hardness. It takes less time to get him fully hard then Wonwoo likes to admit, and Junhui pulls on the waistband of Wonwoo’s jeans, Wonwoo lifting his hips up so Junhui can pull them down to his thighs along with his underwear.
Wonwoo flinches when his ass makes contact with the bare seat and he’s suddenly regretting this a little because it’s kind of weird and uncomfortable. “Can’t you fucking wait until class is over at least?” Wonwoo mutters, hand fisting the hair on the back of Junhui’s head, pulling the older boy’s head up with a sharp tug. Junhui huffs when he looks up at Wonwoo, his hand returning to its place on Wonwoo’s dick, stroking Wonwoo lazily. Junhui’s cheeks are dusted slightly pink; Wonwoo thinks it’s really pretty, really wants to pull Junhui up just a little more and let Junhui’s tongue tangle with his. A soft whimper escapes from Wonwoo, and he watches as another smile spreads across Junhui’s features.
“I wanna try this,” Junhui states, strokes getting a little faster and fingers grasping Wonwoo’s dick a little tighter. Wonwoo is scared someone might hear or see something because this is new and god, neither of them have ever done anything like this in class before, but the chatter and Mr. Branson’s loud voice is probably enough to obscure any lewd noises as long as neither of them are as vocal as they usually are.
“It’s going to make a mess,” Wonwoo tries to reason weakly, “I don’t have anything to clean us up with.”
Junhui lets out a breathy laugh, leans down again to lick at the bead of precome that’s settled on the tip and kisses the head of Wonwoo’s dick which makes Wonwoo suck in a sharp breath. “I’ll take care of it,” he murmurs, pushing Wonwoo’s shirt up from his torso so he has more space for himself to move. Junhui rests a hand on Wonwoo’s exposed stomach to steady himself as he licks a wet stripe from the base of Wonwoo’s cock all the way to the tip, eyes focused on Wonwoo, and although Wonwoo’s guts are twisting up inside of him, he can’t seem to look away.
“Shit,” Wonwoo lets out once Junhui’s lips are wrapped around his dick. He lets his head fall back, his feet planted firmly on the ground. One of his hands is grasping the edge of the table in front of him and the other is still fisting Junhui’s hair, tugging roughly on the strands as Junhui sucks lightly; Wonwoo tugs hard enough to probably hurt, but he knows Junhui likes it a little rough like that. “Fuck,” Wonwoo gasps, because Junhui is doing that thing with his tongue in the slit of Wonwoo’s cock, moaning softly around it and the vibrations are making Wonwoo feel weak. “Go easy,” he warns. Junhui instead sucks a little harder.
Wonwoo’s heart is beating loudly in his chest, he’s so overwhelmed. There’s other people just a couple meters away and the professor is scanning the class now, looking for someone who’s actually paying attention before his eyes flicker back to the textbook in his hands. Junhui’s mouth is hot and warm and wet around his dick and he can hear how slick it is with spit when Junhui strokes whatever he can’t fit in his mouth. It’s thrilling, honestly, that they could be caught at any second, that other people are seeing him like this, and Wonwoo now knows why Junhui wanted to try it so badly.
His eyes move over to Junhui once he’s sure the professor is engrossed in his reading again, and Wonwoo’s eyes travel over the curve of the older boy’s back, up his neck and over his own hand that’s tangled in gentle brown locks. Wonwoo’s breath catches when his eyes meet Junhui’s, and it’s so lewd, how Junhui is sucking on his cock like this in class, eyes connected and pupils blown. Wonwoo moans softly, pushes Junhui down further on his dick and the boy takes him all in eagerly; until his nose is buried in the tuft of hair at the base.
Wonwoo wants to fuck into his mouth, wants it so badly; but it would end up being way too obvious that something was going down in the back corner and Wonwoo couldn’t risk being any more daring. Wonwoo settles for letting Junhui do whatever he fucking wants when he swallows around Wonwoo before pulling off completely with a wet sound and fuck, Wonwoo’s cock is twitching as Junhui’s hand continues to stroke him, his other hand trailing from where it was resting on Wonwoo’s stomach to play with his balls. Wonwoo’s pretty sure he’s about to lose it, but Junhui leans back in to take his dick into his mouth again and Wonwoo is the one who nearly chokes.
“Shit, Junhui,” Wonwoo croaks, chest heaving and breath ragged as Junhui’s brown eyes flicker back up to look at him, “you’re so fucking gorgeous like that.” Junhui hums in response, head bobbing at a steady pace, hands busy, and Wonwoo’s shivering in his seat, eyes flickering up to quickly scan the classroom again before they fall onto Junhui’s lips around his dick. Wonwoo can feel the heat pool in his stomach, his orgasm building and he’s so scared that he might not be able to keep his voice down when he comes.
Wonwoo tugs up on Junhui’s hair, trying to warn him but he doesn’t move off Wonwoo’s dick. “I’m so close,” whispers Wonwoo desperately, tugging again and this time Junhui moves himself off, an obscene string of spit following his lips as he rests his head on Wonwoo’s thighs, hand still working his dick. Wonwoo can feel it building up and he’s digging his nails into Junhui’s scalp, scratching the table and one, two, three strokes and- “Fuck, fuck, what the fuck.”
“Sorry,” comes Junhui’s voice and Wonwoo can only whine in frustration as Junhui’s fingers wrap tightly around the base of his cock, “I want something from you first.”
“Junhui,” Wonwoo chokes, and he feels like he’s going to fucking cry because what the fuck. Junhui just smiles again, lips curving up oh so innocently and Wonwoo is so tempted to pry Junhui away and fuck into his own fist while the whole class watches. “Let me fucking come.”
“Tell me how you wanna be fucked tonight,” Junhui murmurs against his cock, breath so hot and fingers wrapped so tight. Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say, or what Junhui wants, and he’s blabbering under his breath as he watches Mr. Branson flick on the television and slip in an old tape into the player.
“Fu- not here Jun- please,” Wonwoo pleads as the video starts playing and god it’s about some holy Jesus crap and Junhui is still smiling up at him from his lap, pressing kisses to the inside of his thighs. Junhui shakes his head, uses his other hand to start stroking Wonwoo again too slow. Wonwoo brings both his hands up to press against the table and it’s probably the only thing that’s keeping him sane while Junhui pushes him closer to the edge.
“Tell me, Wonwoo,” a tongue darts out from Junhui’s lips to lap at the head of Wonwoo’s dick, and it makes Wonwoo’s hips buck up involuntarily.
“Fuck,” Wonwoo hisses, snapping his hips up again with a soft cry at another lick, “someone is going to hear me- fuck Junhui- please.”
“They won’t,” Junhui assures quickly, shushing Wonwoo when he lets out a particularly loud moan just to spite Junhui and prove a point, but the video is playing loudly and nobody fucking knows what the hell is going on. “Tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll let you come,” Junhui says gently, pressing another kiss to Wonwoo’s thigh, “how do you want me to fuck you tonight?”
“I want your fingers inside me,” blurts Wonwoo desperately, voice barely a whisper but Junhui hears him, his smile growing wider, the hand on Wonwoo’s cock speeding up. “I want you to- fuck- stretch me open- ah- touch me all over,” Wonwoo’s voice is cracked and rough and breathy, but he manages to get the words out somehow, “I want your dick inside of me, Junhui- shit- I want- fucking hell- I wanna ride you.”
Wonwoo nods, says, “I- I want you to come inside of me,” in such a small, choked voice that Wonwoo isn’t sure if Junhui heard anything. He secretly hopes he didn’t.
The older boy just bites his lip and smiles a little wider, continuing to stroke Wonwoo a little quicker. “Good,” Junhui whispers, “you’re so good.” Wonwoo doesn’t know what else to do. He can feel the familiar heat pooling again and it’s distressing because Junhui has still got his fingers wrapped around his dick, tight as ever and when Junhui’s tongue licks at the precome that’s oozing from the tip again, Wonwoo arches off his seat, hands grabbing at Junhui’s arms, clawing at the flesh as he comes hard, but nothing dribbles out of his cock as Junhui’s hand helps him ride through it, but he’s far from satisfied, still painfully hard and throbbing and frustrated.
“You’re so hot, so fucking beautiful.” Junhui coos, and under normal circumstances, Wonwoo might preen at the words, tell Junhui that’s he’s a delusional asshole who compliments him too much, but all Wonwoo can manage is a strained “please,” and a choked sob when Junhui finally lets go and takes Wonwoo into his mouth one more time. Wonwoo grasps the back of Junhui’s shirt, nails digging into muscle and flesh and everything is so hot and wet and Wonwoo is in such a daze that he only has time to tug on Junhui’s shirt a moment before he comes again.
Junhui ends up taking it all, sucking on Wonwoo’s dick until nothing else spurts out. Wonwoo’s thighs are quivering and he almost forgets to breathe, vision going white and Wonwoo doesn’t care anymore if anyone sees him like this, mouth hanging open and a silent moan of “Junhui” ripped from his throat. Just as well, Wonwoo thinks after Junhui sits up, a little bit of come dribbling down the corner of his lips. If he wasn’t as flustered and overwhelmed as he was, he probably would’ve alerted the whole university that he’d just had his dick sucked by his boyfriend.
Wonwoo reaches a hand to wipe the come off Junhui’s face with a thumb, bringing the finger up to his own lips and licking at it so he can taste himself. Salty, and kind of bitter, but he doesn’t mind. Junhui looks at him like he might kiss him, but instead he sits back in his chair, facing the class with a shuddering breath and a hoarse cough into his fist. Wonwoo rests his hands on his thighs for a while, sucking in deep breaths he’s missed out on taking and looks over at Junhui, whose lips are swollen and pink and really fucking hot.
“Shit, Junhui that was really fucking risky,” Wonwoo hisses once he’s properly composed himself, lifting his hips a little as he pulls his jeans and underwear back up around his waist, “you know I suck ass at being quiet. We could’ve gotten caught.”
Junhui turns to him and laughs lightly, “but we didn’t get caught,” he says, and it’s true, although Wonwoo still feels a little sick to his stomach. “You did a really good job keeping it down, I’m proud of you babe.”
“Fuck off,” Wonwoo grumbles back, shifting in his seat to get comfortable, “the class is full of ignorant assholes, including you. I hate you so much.”
Junhui scoffs, reaching over behind Wonwoo to wrap his fingers around the nape of his neck, and pull him in for a kiss. Wonwoo leans into the touch of lips, letting Junhui delve into his mouth. Wonwoo can taste himself on Junhui’s tongue; makes him want to kiss a little longer, but Junhui pulls away with a short laugh, hands slipping from their place. “You’re still gonna help me get off though, right?” Junhui teases, hands already at his zipper.
Wonwoo laughs. “Yeah,” he breathes before he reaches down to pull Junhui’s dick from his briefs, thick and heavy and warm in his hand, slender fingers wrapping around the width. Wonwoo hears Junhui suck in a breath when he thumbs over the tip, spreading precome. “Fuck,” Wonwoo says in awe, licking his lips, “you’re still so hard.”
Junhui just grins from his seat as Wonwoo strokes him languidly, eyes focused forward, and he even smiles apologetically at Mr. Branson when the professor looks over at them when Junhui accidentally kicks the table because Wonwoo starts to rub his thumb over the slit repeatedly. Wonwoo decides that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea and he murmurs an apology in Junhui’s direction. Junhui laughs under his breath, hand resting on Wonwoo’s knee as Wonwoo jacks him off under the desk.
Wonwoo isn’t as much of a fucking sadist as Junhui is, so when the older boy whispers that he’s close, Wonwoo just smiles and leans over to nibble the shell of the older boy’s ear as Junhui stains his hand with come. Wonwoo strokes him until Junhui’s a shuddering mess, whispering Wonwoo’s name desperately into the crook of his neck. Wonwoo pulls away, a satisfied smile on his features. He brings his hand up to his lips and licks away at the come, eyes daring Junhui to do something, anything really. Junhui does. He pulls Wonwoo’s hand towards himself and sucks on a come stained finger, tongue lapping at the pad of Wonwoo’s thumb. Wonwoo laughs incredulously, raising a brow before he leans in to take Junhui’s lips again.
“Thanks,” Junhui grouses with a grin, tongue darting out to lick his lips habitually. Wonwoo just shrugs and tells him he better have asked those questions earlier for a good goddamn reason. Junhui assures him that he most definitely did.
There’s about half an hour left of class when Mr. Branson takes the tape out of the player, Junhui using the small commotion to press another kiss to Wonwoo’s lips before he readjusts himself and and tries to look at least a little more presentable. The two of them intertwine their fingers under the table for the rest of the lecture, and when they walk out of the room together, hand in hand, Wonwoo tries his best not to laugh when some freshman walks in after them and asks why the back corner smells like sex.