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“So, based on what we’ve just talked about, which of these would be the best decision in a deflationary economy if you’re advising a crude oil giant?”
Answers pop up in a garble of voices, some educated guesses and some plain incorrect. There’s only one who seems to be completely confident in her answer.
“Jane, go for it.”
“Regulating supply to Q-1 until it hits the kink on the curve and the price rises to P-1.”
Before Kaya can respond, a student behind her wrinkles his nose.
“In a deflationary economy? So manufacturing and transportation costs can increase even more?”
“You want prices to increase so there’s greater investment in the economy -”
“How does investment help when there’s -”
“Alright, that’s enough,” calls Kaya, somewhat amused. Both students roll their eyes and each other and face forward. “You’re both right… theoretically. Who can tell me why?”
There’s another mess of answers and she chuckles, her gaze moving instinctively to the back of the class. There’s her thesis advisor, observing her teaching the class. He nods encouragingly behind his glasses, sharing her amusement. Behind him, in the last row, is that student again, the one with the baseball cap still on his head tilted low.
In spite of it, she can’t miss his eyes behind his glasses finding hers, and her heart stutters.
She averts her gaze instantly and takes a step backwards, reaching inside the bowl on her table. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor brings the class to relative silence.
Jane raises her hand again, pushing her glasses up with her other hand. In front of her, the open pages on her notebook are filled with scrawls in black ink of diagrams and text. Feeling a vague sense of kinship, Kaya points at her.
“Increased crude oil prices lead to greater investment in the shale oil space,” she answers immediately, and the guy behind her closes his eyes and sighs, evidently having forgotten this rather important detail. “This leads to an influx of cash in the economy, leading to more jobs and employment. As for the increase in costs,” she adds, turning around conspicuously to look at him, “that’s a side effect that can’t be helped. Those companies would be better off moving from consuming crude oil to shale oil.” Satisfied, she looks back to Kaya.
“Near perfect answer,” she confirms, tossing her a candy.
Despite the compliment, Jane frowns, absently catching the candy. The bell rings then and there’s a rustle as everyone begins standing up and gathering their things.
“Good class, everybody,” says Kaya, doing the same. “Don’t forget your pre-read for Wednesday’s class.”
There’s a murmur of assent as everybody begins heading out through the side doors in front of the class, passing by her desk to do so. Jane bounds up to her.
“Um, just asking for future reference,” she begins, “what was…
not
perfect about my answer? Because according to my notes,” she says, leafing through her notebook, “it was exactly what you said.”
Kaya winces internally, knowing that while teaching the class requires days of preparation, this is the hard part. Straightening up to face her, she sighs.
“Your answer was perfect,” she admits gently. “The gloating was not. Trust me, I’ve been there. Learnt it the hard way,” she adds honestly when Jane’s shoulders deflate and she trudges out with the rest of the class.
There aren’t too many people left in the class now. Another student, the same one who was caught unawares by Jane, stops by her desk. “I should’ve realised it was the shale thing,” he mutters, sounding disgruntled. “I don’t know how I missed it. I missed another thing last class. I don’t know why… is it possible - I mean…” He shuffles uncomfortably. “Do you… do you tutor?”
Hell no . “You don’t need tutoring, Jakob,” she answers instead, hoping she sounds encouraging. “You just need to pay a little more attention.” Kaya turns to switch off the projector, effectively ending the conversation. She doesn’t turn around until she hears footsteps behind her again, and her smile fades when she sees the student with the baseball cap, his hands in the pockets of his open hoodie. His glasses frame his face, and she sees blond hair peeking out from under the cap.
“I was going to ask the same thing,” he says after a moment, voice deeper than Jakob’s. “About the tutoring.”
Kaya swallows, her eyes darting around at the remaining few people still packing up. “My answer is the same as well,” she says shortly. “You don’t need tutoring.”
“I don’t?”
“No. You just need to pay attention in class.”
His gaze travels down her figure, from the slim white top to the pencil skirt she’d worn in hopes of being professional. The way he’s looking at her, though, is anything but. “You don’t make that very easy.”
She pauses, her heart racing. Still aware that they aren’t alone, she bites her lip. “I have a boyfriend,” she murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear.
There’s a shadow of a smile under the cap. He takes a step closer and she catches a whiff of his familiar cologne. He’s taller than Jakob, too… “That’s what you said last time,” he reminds her.
Kaya’s cheeks grow hot but before she can respond, someone else comes over.
“Kaya,” calls Adam, smiling. “Great class. You’re a natural,” he says, coming over and giving her a friendly one-armed hug.
She chuckles in relief, momentarily diverted. “Thank you. I tried to do everything you told me - notes and all,” she tells him.
“You nailed it,” he assures her, patting her shoulder encouragingly. In contrast to the previous conversation, Adam speaks at a regular volume. Tall and lean in his mid-thirties, he adjusts his laptop bag and a file of papers in his other hand. Behind him, the other student has smoothly stepped back and is leaning against Jane’s desk, pretending to pay attention to his phone even though his thumb isn’t scrolling.
“It was… fun,” she admits. “Kind of like a high.”
“The good ones are,” agrees Adam. “The students really respond to you. Keep it up and I can start unloading even more of my classes onto you,” he jokes, pushing glasses up his nose in a move identical to Jane’s.
“Can’t wait.” Kaya grins and waves as he exits the lecture hall, feeling the unique calmness of relief. She waits until he’s well out of sight, leaving only one other person in the room.
“Was he asking about tutoring, too?” he asks, voice a little dryer than before.
The relief still seeping through her veins, she shrugs. “No. He was complimenting my class, as I’m sure you heard.”
“I was going to do that, too.”
She chuckles. “I appreciate it, but Adam is my thesis advisor,” she tells him, now giving him her full attention as he approaches her. “In this case, his opinion matters the most.”
He nods, jaw hardening slightly. “Well, good thing I’m not your boyfriend or that would actually hurt a little,” he tells her, now standing right in front of her. His hand strokes her hip and she gasps softly, grabbing it to move it.
“Not here,” she whispers. “Anyone could walk in.” When he smirks, presumably in anticipation of exactly that, she deliberately shoves his hand away. “And there are cameras.”
“Afraid your boyfriend’s going to see? You weren’t this worried the last time.”
“That’s because the last time we did this , it was in the privacy of your studio,” she reminds him, slipping out from in front of him and grabbing her bag. “How did you even get in here? Didn’t anybody see you?”
“Um… no, actually,” he answers, shaking his head. “I literally just gave my name at the gate and walked in. Security’s not great here, now that you mention it,” he informs her, now at a more normal volume.
Kaya frowns, not expecting this. “Seriously? What - you just said your name is Kim Namjoon and just… walked in?”
“Oh, no, I gave a fake name, obviously,” he says as they walk out together. “But it still worked. No one gave me a second look,” he adds, sounding almost uncertain. “Quite surprising. But a good thing.”
“That is surprising,” she agrees in a low voice, hoping it stays true for the short walk to her office as well. Namjoon is taller than average; even wearing heels, it feels like he’s towering over her, shielding her whole figure. Still, the clothing probably works, for no one seems to pay them any attention. She’s thankful it’s a Sunday - the number of people on campus is fewer than usual. They reach her office in relative silence and it isn’t until they’re both inside and she’s shut the door that she finally relaxes.
“I don’t allow hats and hoods in my class, by the way,” she tells him pointedly, grinning when he takes the hat off. “Don’t make me give you detention,” she warns.
“I can handle detention,” he says easily, running a hand through his hair. Kaya allows herself to admire him freely now, leaning back against her table in the small, air-conditioned office.
“What are you doing here?” she asks him finally, tone softer than before.
“It’s your first class; I wanted to be there,” he answers, coming up to her and placing his hands on her hips again, tracing the shape in the pencil skirt. “And you were amazing. So confident and sexy,” he murmurs, tilting his head and brushing his lips against her collarbone.
Kaya feels goosebumps appear on her skin. “That’s… really sweet. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well…” Namjoon straightens up. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get in,” he admits. “And I didn’t want you to be nervous. Wanted you to focus on nothing but the class.”
She nods, biting her lip and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she says softly, leaning up before stopping abruptly. “Wait, what fake name did you use? I need to know who I’m making out with in my office.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And cheating on your boyfriend with?”
“Exactly.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes but tugs her hips closer to his. “I said my name was Jackson. It was the first one that popped into my head.”
“Jackson?” Kaya frowns, something stirring in her memory. “Don’t you have a friend called Jackson? Didn’t we - hang on, didn’t we go to a party at his house or something?”
“No, that wasn’t Jackson. Jackson was the one who sent me flowers and soup when I got a cold, remember? I think it was May,” he says vaguely.
“Oh, yeah, I remember you told me about that. He was a better girlfriend than me,” she teases, leaning up again.
“You still edge him out just a bit,” he mutters, pulling her closer and kissing her. She sinks into him instantly, the day’s stress, anxiety and relief disappearing in his taste and his scent. She feels his hands roaming her body with ease, running down the curves of her top and skirt, the pads of his thumbs pressing into the flesh, and she can tell here a restrained intake of breath.
“Don’t you think it’s unfair?” Namjoon murmurs, trailing kisses across her jaw. He takes a step forward and backs her into the table.
It takes Kaya a moment to respond. “What is?” she asks, eyes still closed.
“Expecting your students to concentrate the whole time when you’re up there looking like this ,” he answers calmly, softly sucking the skin under her earlobe.
She almost rolls her eyes at this line but the feel of his body pressing up against hers makes it difficult to do so. “If they want that grade, they’re going to have to,” she says instead, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie. “Take this off,” she whispers, running her hands up to his shoulders and slipping it off.
He pulls away slightly. “What else can they do for a grade?”
She grins. “What can they do…” Hooking her fingers through the belt loops on his jeans, she pulls herself closer.
“... or what can you do?”
Being a famous person, presumably, is fraught with the possibility of scrutiny and inappropriate invasion of privacy. Namjoon seems to be an unwilling expert at it, knowing the ins and outs of using disguises, fake names, timed outings and secret exits.
Being with a famous person, at least for Kaya, is a black box. It sounds dangerous and mysterious, like the depths of Tartarus with the sounds of cameras clicking echoing from inside it. She doesn’t do well with not knowing , but this is one area where she’s restrained herself from Googling more than she should, for she knows the kind of stories she’s bound to stumble across.
In a somewhat insane attempt to cope, she’d convinced herself that as long she doesn’t see them, there’s a chance her mind is exaggerating and they don’t exist at all, like Schroedinger’s paparazzi. She hates the phrase, doesn’t believe in it - but Ignorance is bliss seems to be the safest option in this case, letting Namjoon take the lead when it comes to navigating a relationship in secret.
A good thing that’s come out of it? The desire to take advantage of every situation that presents itself, even at the most inopportune moments.
The last time Kaya had been in Seoul, she’d made a calculated decision to ask Hoseok to sneak her into the Big Hit building so she could find Namjoon in his studio.
“With respect, Hobi,” she’d said carefully on the phone, biting her lip, when he’d asked her curiously why she wanted to do this, “don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to?”
It had taken Hoseok a full minute to understand what she might be referring to, during which time she wished very much that Yoongi wasn’t out of town at this time. Still, Hoseok had been kind enough to help her out and she’d smoothly made her way inside and knocked on her boyfriend’s studio, hoping the lace wouldn’t start chafing before it could be taken off.
To her horror, Namjoon hadn’t been alone. His eyes had widened in shock and she’d been ready to turn around and run, but whoever it was with him had frowned and pointed at her, asking Namjoon something in Korean.
Namjoon had stuttered out a response, tacking on “an intern” at the end in English, she knew, for her benefit. There had been some conversation after that which Kaya could make no sense of, following which Namjoon had handed her a folder filled with papers and a pendrive, apparently waving her away.
Fortunately, his companion had also left then, leaving only Namjoon and the intern in the studio.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said instantly, seeming a little confused, “but, what are you…”
“Obviously, since I’m an intern here,” she’d begun wryly, “I am doing my job. I’m… interning.”
“M-hm.”
There had been a moment where they’d met each other’s eyes and it occurred to Kaya that her surprise visit could unearth more than just a quickie in his studio.
“Anything else you need?” Namjoon had asked after a moment, taking a seat in his chair, elbows resting on his thighs and feet flat on the ground.
He was playing along. Kaya’s heart had raced in excitement and she’d tried to suppress her smile. “I’ve always admired your work,” she’d ventured, feeling just the tiniest bit ridiculous. But she’d tried to push the thought out of her mind and stay committed to the bit. “Could you teach me something?”
Namjoon hadn’t responded for a moment and she’d cringed, hoping it hadn’t gone from sexy surprise to average porno in three seconds straight. But then he’d cleared his throat and gestured for her to come closer. “Sure. I can teach you.”
Kaya had walked over and once she’d reached him, pretended to look around the studio. “Um… there’s no other place to sit,” she’d said, ignoring the four seater sofa and armchair. “From where I can see the monitor,” she’d added quickly.
He’d nodded thoughtfully and simply leaned back in the chair, gazing up at her calmly. Even sitting down, he was almost her height, torso long and broad, jeans stretching over his thighs and making his lap look most inviting.
“Have a seat.”
Her toes had curled inside her shoes and she’d nodded mutely, carefully resting on his knee while his hands lightly guided her hips. The slightest touch made her heart palpitate, as though sitting on his lap wasn’t one of the most natural parts of her days with him.
“Are you comfortable?” he’d asked.
Kaya had nodded. “Yeah. I mean,” she’d shrugged, going where her inspiration took her, “my boyfriend won’t like it, though.”
She’d felt him stir then, just a bit, underneath her. The next moment, he’d leaned forward so his chest was touching her back and his nose brushed her hair.
“ Jackpot ,” he’d whispered.
Kaya had only gone over with the intention of surprising her boyfriend during a busy week, maybe making out for a while like they had in his home studio years ago, maybe sneaking out to go grab a coffee. Unearthing a rudimentary fantasy that neither of them knew existed had not been part of the plan, but they’d rolled with it to achieve vastly satisfying results.
Now, Kaya feels similar stirrings low and deep in her abdomen, the same impulse in response to how intensely Namjoon is gazing at her, almost amused, but mostly hopeful - and this time, on her turf.
“I’m sure I can offer you something in return,” he suggests after a moment.
She raises an eyebrow, trying to ignore the leap in her chest. “Are you bribing me for a grade?”
“I’m bribing you really well for a grade,” he corrects her, reaching for her hips and gently squeezing her arse. “Fuck, that’s tight,” he mutters, his eyes falling to her skirt.
Kaya gasps, feeling her core tingle suddenly. “So far, you’re only teasing me for a grade,” she retorts, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
Namjoon grins, dimple popping and eyes darkening. Without another word, he lowers his head to kiss her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth instantly. He squeezes her arse again before bringing his hands up higher, his fingers tightening on every curve and quietly grunting in pleasure when he reaches her chest.
“Have I mentioned how much I love this top?” he murmurs against her lips, squeezing her left breast and swallowing her sigh. “It makes your boobs look so sexy. I couldn’t look away the whole time,” he adds quietly, running his thumb over her nipple. Even through her bra, he can feel it hard and straining against the fabric.
“I can take it off,” she offers, struggling to keep her legs pressed together and her wits about her amidst his body up against hers. She fumbles in the chiffon ruffles for the string and tugs at it, loosening the top and feeling the tops of her breasts exposed to the cool air conditioner. She moves to take it off but he stops her.
“Keep it on,” he says, catching her wrist and bringing it down. “It’s too pretty to take off.” His lips move down her jaw to her neck, cupping her breast and thumbing her nipple again.
Kaya finds herself torn between regretting and being glad that she isn’t wearing a padded bra today. She lets out a soft sigh as he thumbs it again, his hair brushing her neck as she drops her head back slightly. His lips move lower, sucking a mark above the hem of her bra and she waits eagerly for him to pull down her top, knowing he’ll take his time.
He never does, though, straightening up as his hands smoothly moving down her chest and to her hips.
“I hate you,” she groans softly, her heart fluttering at his chuckle next to her ear.
Namjoon reaches down and pulls her skirt up her thighs until he can slide his hand in between her legs. He places his palm against her cunt and squeezes it, feeling her soaked through her underwear. “No, you don’t,” he murmurs, swallowing her gasp.
He rubs her through her underwear, his palm at her clit and his fingers right at her entrance. Kaya’s hands fall backwards to land on the table, supporting her as her knees feel weaker by the second. Namjoon holds her to him, though, his other hand on her arse as he presses her into his palm.
“Take it off, take it off,” she whines, dropping her head on his shoulder and grabbing his forearm for support. She breathes a sigh of relief as he silently tugs her underwear down, feeling the fabric fall down her legs just before he resumes his position: his palm rough against her clit and his fingers slowly sliding inside her walls.
“How close are you?” he asks against her lips, his tongue teasing hers.
“So - so fucking -” She breaks off into a moan as he moves his hand in a circular motion, giving her exactly the friction she so desperately needs. “Yes, yes …”
Namjoon pulls her closer as she climaxes, kissing her exposed neck and holding her as she screws her eyes shut, breathing heavily as she comes down from her high.
“Shit,” she whispers, eyes fluttering open after a few moments when she feels his hands slide off her. “That was - that was - wait, what are you doing?”
He simply raises an eyebrow as he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, his erection straining through the material of his boxers. “What do you think?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her waist and hitching her up on the table. “I’m earning my grade.”
Kaya laughs breathlessly, her heart racing at his strength and the desire in his eyes. “You know this is my office, right?” she tells him as he gently spreads her legs and comes to stand in between them. “I work here.”
“And I work in my studio,” he replies, lowering his head to kiss her. “Didn’t mean I couldn’t take a break.”
It’s true, she agrees privately, kissing him back. The intern bit had gone on only for a few minutes before she’d felt Namjoon’s hand come up from behind her and slide in between her thighs, palming her until she’d silently unbuttoned her jeans in response. He’d fingered her there, too, muttering soothingly that her boyfriend would never find out - that, as his other hand reached up her top to squeeze her breast, her secret was safe with him.
His mouth is on her clit now, sucking softly at the swollen nub. The thought of him on her knees for her, here, in her office, only gets her wet again. His lips, soft and ample, glide through her folds as he holds her legs apart, hands gentle but firm on her thighs.
“God, I want you so bad,” he mutters, standing back up and wiping his mouth. Kaya tugs him closer by the t-shirt, kissing him while he lowers his boxers until she feels his tip on the inside of her thigh. She whimpers in anticipation into his mouth, their lips separating but brushing against each other as he eases himself inside her.
“Yes - oh, God …”
Namjoon feels so big, so thick inside her that she doesn’t even register when he starts moving, his groan low and throaty. She leans back slightly, resting her elbows back on the table so he can get a better angle as he keeps going, his arm tight around her waist.
“Fuck, you feel amazing, baby,” he murmurs at her neck, his voice reverberating through her bones. His lips trail down her collarbone, to her breasts, partially uncovered and moving in rhythm with every whimper she makes. He grabs her other thigh, fucking her harder with each thrust.
“How am I doing?” he asks after a few moments, pulling her up to kiss her again.
“What?” she answers absently, her hands reaching for his neck as she kisses him back. One of her hands glides through his hair and he grunts at the feel of her nails against his scalp.
“How am I doing?” he repeats pulling away slightly and picking up the speed. “Grade-wise?”
“Oh.” She chuckles, pulling playfully at his hair. He suspects she can barely focus on what he’s saying until she meets his eyes, her lips an inch away from his. “B-minus,” she murmurs, her body still moving from the intensity of his thrusts but her gaze steady.
Namjoon’s chest leaps. “Have to fix that,” he mutters, pulling out abruptly. Ignoring her momentary gasp, he picks her up to put her back down on the floor, before holding her shoulders and turning her around until she’s facing the table. She falls forward on her hands in surprise, feeling him sweep her long hair over one shoulder.
He kisses the other shoulder softly, one arm coming protectively around her waist. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” he whispers clearly next to her ear, kissing her cheek tenderly.
Kaya nods, feeling his arm tighten around her and knowing the moment has passed. She bends forward a bit more as he enters her, trying to suppress her groan so it doesn’t carry out of the room but it’s too difficult. He feels incredible ; the new angle allows him to hit every nerve ending he couldn’t reach before and he begins moving again, sliding smoothly in and out of her, his low grunts in sync with his movements.
Back then, in his studio, Kaya had been the one to change the tone, turning around on his lap and straddling him on his chair. Ground-breaking music swept aside, she’d rode him in the Big Hit building until they’d both cum together for the first time that afternoon. The walls were soundproof and there had been no fear of being heard; the sounds Namjoon had elicited from her less than hour later when they’d fucked on his couch had been unbelievable, leaving her with legs too shaky to walk herself out after that.
Now, in a quieter work environment, the air is filled with sounds of pleasure; her whimpers increasing in frequency and the soft sounds of skin on skin escaping in between. Namjoon’s hands are tight on her hips, holding her steady as he pounds into her.
Kaya has no opportunity to warn him when she cums again, finally letting herself moan out loud as he hits the spot and she feels the the heat travel from her core to the rest of her body. She shudders and falls forward on her hands, trying to catch her breath as Namjoon keeps going, faster now, his grip on her hips tightening.
“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum…” Namjoon’s thrusts are harder, his hips slamming against her until he pushes forward with a muffled groan against her shoulder, followed by two more slower thrusts, emptying himself inside her. As he pulls out slowly, Kaya feels his seed drip down her legs; cringing slightly, she reaches for the box of tissues at the corner of her desk and wipes herself down as Namjoon pulls up his jeans and zips them up.
“Come here,” he murmurs, turning her around gently and capturing her lips in a kiss before she has a chance to respond. It’s less desperate this time, more loving. Kaya, still trying to breathe normally, kisses him back but pulls away quickly.
“I need a moment,” she says tiredly, leaning back against the desk and panting. He chuckles and nods, wrapping his arms around her waist and lowering his head to her shoulder.
“How about now?” Namjoon murmurs against her skin, stroking her back and pressing soft, lingering kisses to her neck. “Did I do better? Oh, hang on.” He notices something on the floor and kneels down.
Kaya’s forehead clears when she remembers. “Oh. I guess you talked yourself into an A,” she ventures, looking down when he taps her leg. It’s her underwear on the floor; a blush creeping up her neck, she awkwardly steps into it, her hands on his shoulders for support. He pulls it up her legs and she adjusts her skirt over it, biting her lip as he stands up again.
“Okay, an A plus,” she allows, giggling as he pulls her back into his arms.
He winks. “I thought so. Although, I really feel like I have to clear this up,” he adds, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “I was… I was a really good student. A grea student, in fact. I studied really hard and never skipped a class, so I never actually needed to go the extra mile or do anything that -”
Kaya laughs, pushing him away playfully and stepping away from the desk. “I never doubted you, honey. Don’t worry,” she reassures him, rifling through a stack of test papers before stopping. “I still have a quick meeting with Adam about the next class… do you want to wait? Or I can meet you at home?”
Namjoon frowns slightly before shrugging. “I can wait.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He nods, linking his fingers with hers. “I’ll take you out to dinner after, at that place by the river,” he adds, tugging slightly and kissing her cheek.
Kaya chuckles. “You love that place. Alright, I’ll be back in about half an hour, I think.” With a massive effort, she steps away from him and grabs her bag.
“Alright, love you. Oh, wait -” He reaches forward and adjusts the sleeve of her top, covering the corner of a hickey on her chest. “There.”
“Stop it, you already got the grade you wanted,” she teases, walking backwards.
Namjoon grins. “Don’t let him keep you too long,” he warns her as she leaves, “or I might have to come find you and ask for another grade.”
—