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Jinyoung’s hand has been resting on Youngjae’s thigh for the past twenty minutes, gradually sliding further and further up with every passing second.
It’s all Youngjae can think about, his nerves sensitive to the other man’s touch, hyper aware of the warmth that’s spreading through the fabric of his jeans.
And Jinyoung knows it. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Youngjae, rubbing his thick thighs with purpose, teasing him.
Youngjae smirks. People like to underestimate him, and this time is no different.
Slowly, he takes his hand away from his laptop and reaches under the fold-out desk attached to his chair, fingers undoing the button on his jeans.
They’re sitting at the very back row of the lecture hall, on the left side where the overhead lights are the dimmest. They normally sit here because it’s quieter and darker, which makes it easy for Jaebeom to catch a quick nap during class. But he’s not here today, and Youngjae plans on taking full advantage of the situation.
He undoes the zipper on his jeans slowly, the slight metal clang barely audible. But just as he expected, Jinyoung freezes instantly, eyes locked on the professor at the front of the lecture hall.
“What are you doing?” he hisses, not looking at Youngjae.
The smirk on Yougjae’s face grows. “Don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you were leading up to,” he whispers back.
Jinyoung’s eyes widen, pink spreading across his cheeks. “Well...yeah, eventually. But I was thinking somewhere a little more... private.”
“Baby,” Youngjae says softly, and waits till Jinyoung has peeled his eyes away from the professor to look at him. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and watches Jinyoung’s eyes trace the movement. “I want you now.”
Jinyoung’s hand tightens on Youngjae’s thigh involuntarily. He takes a shaky breath, looking around the lecture hall nervously. Youngjae wraps his fingers around the back of Jinyoung’s hand and slides it so it’s resting just over the opening of the zipper, pinky finger slipping in to brush the warm skin of his stomach, thumb still resting on the denim. Jinyoung’s hand is a little cold against his stomach, and he shivers despite the heat in his groin.
A beat passes and Jinyoung doesn’t move his hand. His breathing is heavier than normal and Youngjae can’t tell if he’s panicking or turned on. Maybe both. Hopefully both.
The professor calls on a girl in the front row to answer a question and someone coughs loudly. Youngjae rubs circles on the hand that’s covering his abdomen. “Is this okay?” Youngjae asks quietly. “Do you...do you want this?”
Jinyoung nods once, fast, before looking into Youngjae’s eyes, locking gazes. Then he nods again, this time more slowly. God, he’s cute. Hot and bothered in his collared shirt and crewneck sweater, nervous as he finally puts down the pen that was clutched in his other hand. Youngjae wants to eat him up. Or, more accurately, he wants Jinyoung to eat him up. Anyway.
Youngjae squeezes Jinyoung’s hand once before shoving it down his pants, pressing it hard against his underwear, directly over his dick. Still, Jinyoung does nothing, but his hand is warmer now, a soothing pressure over Youngjae’s already half hard cock.
Youngjae lets out a pleased hum in the back of his throat and starts to rut up into Jinyoung’s palm, getting some nice friction against his balls.
“Fuck,” Jinyoung breathes, “You’re the only one who can make me do things like this.”
Youngjae’s dick is responding embarrassingly fast to his frenzied rubbing, and he’s almost completely erect, dick straining against the confines of his underwear, aching to be freed. “Then please,” he begs, stomach tingling, “Touch me.”
And then Jinyoung is nodding, slipping his hand under Youngjae’s underwear and grasping Youngjae’s dick roughly. He jerks it slowly, testing the waters, thumb sliding over the slit. Youngjae arches appropriately, leaning into Jinyoung’s space.
Jinyoung smiles. He likes pleasuring his boyfriend. Likes making Youngjae feel good.
He speeds his movements up, pushing the skin back and forth, this way and that. It stings a little to have dry skin on skin. Youngjae almost never has any pre-come, it’s like his body is saving it up so it feels even better when he finishes. Jinyoung seems to clue in to that at about the same time that Youngjae does.
Instead of removing his hand like Youngjae thought he would, Jinyoung scans his eyes over the class once before leaning down so his mouth is hovering right over Youngjae’s crotch, warm breath puffing against his jeans. And then he spits, saliva landing on Youngjae’s stomach, below his belly button. Jinyoung lets go of Youngjae’s dick and moves his hand up, smearing his palm through the spit before dragging it downwards through Youngjae’s pubes and back onto his cock.
He starts to jerk it again and the slide is delicious, dangerous wet sounds filling both their ears.
Now Youngjae is hard, and horny, and covered in spit, getting felt up by his boyfriend. Shit. He bites his lip, letting out a low moan.
Jinyoung’s head pops up, a second of fear showing before he smoothes out his features, dark eyes flicking around cooly to make sure no one heard. Because they’re in class, and Jinyoung’s hand is down his pants, and fuck, why is that so hot?
The fact that they could get caught at any time only makes it sweeter, heady with adrenaline.
Youngjae squirms, hips bucking up to start their rhythm again as Jinyoung works him steadily, moving him closer and closer to the edge.
“More, Jinyoung,” he whispers, “Faster.”
This time there’s no hesitation and Jinyoung listens, stroking him faster and harder, the veins in his hand popping out. He pays special attention to the underside of Youngjae’s cock, right at the head where he likes it. Youngjae lets out another choked moan, hoodie sleeve coming up to muffle it at the last second.
“So easy for me,” Jinyoung breathes. And then he’s doing that thing again with the rough pads of his fingers and the sensitive skin of Youngjae’s tip and Youngjae trembles, rocking himself back and forth. “L-like that. More.”
Jinyoung traces his slit before moving down to the balls, fondling them. He cups his hand and squeezes, allowing Youngjae to rut into him, swiveling so both balls get attention. Jinyoung slides his hand up the shaft, gripping Youngjae’s dick painfully tight.
“So thick,” Jinyoung murmurs.
Youngjae is so close, can feel his orgasm building and- shit. He sits up straighter, eyes flying around wildly. He’s suddenly second guessing everything, because he doesn’t have a cloth to clean himself up or an extra sweater to cover up, and he is seconds away from cumming.
“Wait,” he panics, trying to shove away Jinyoung’s hand.
But Jinyoung only smirks, all the nervous energy from before completely gone. “Should’ve thought of that before, huh? It’s too late now, baby. You’re going to cum in your pants like a slut.”
Youngjae shakes his head, whimpering. “No.”
“It’s okay,” Jinyoung reassures, voice husky. He twists his hand fast, circling the slit. “I like them messy.”
Youngjae climaxes without warning, head slamming backwards as he shakes, leaking onto Jinyoung’s hand and spilling into his underwear, the warm wetness soaking through his jeans. He desperately tries to bite back moans while riding out the waves of his orgasm. Jinyoung milks him for everything he’s worth, enjoying the sight of a wet patch growing over his boyfriend's crotch and down his thigh.
He’s making such a mess, and all because of Jinyoung.
After a couple seconds Youngjae finally stops trembling and tugs Jinyoung’s hand out of his pants, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the palm. He tastes spit, and cum, and the soap Jinyoung likes to use.
He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about how wet he is, about how much cum is all over himself, not when Jinyoung is looking at him like that, like he wants Youngjae to bend him over the professor’s desk and fuck him until he’s cumming in his fancy black dress pants, getting choked as Youngjae pulls on his collared shirt.
Youngjae yanks the zipper on his jeans up. He sees the bulge in Jinyoung’s pants and grins devilishly. “Your turn.”