Turn to page 394 and recite from the beginning (oneshot)
Title: Turn to page 394 and recite from the beginning
Pairing: Gwangchul/Injoon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2529
Summary: Revenge comes in all forms.
Notes: For gwangchul and raenism. ♥
"Injoon-sshi."
The voice is faint and familiar, the tone stern enough to make Injoon stir a little, but he drifts off almost as soon as he starts to come to.
"Injoon-sshi."
It's closer now, right next to him, and this time the voice is accompanied by a sharp jab in the shoulder. Injoon blinks slowly at the blinding fluorescent lights, hesitating a few seconds before bringing his face completely out of the safety of his folded arms. He's greeted by a cheerful argyle print and black leather belt, and doesn't even have time to contemplate why exactly he's sleeping at a desk and not in his bed before he's jabbed again. The offending object turns out to be a ruler, and Injoon lets out a yelp as it jabs him a third time.
"Does this look like nap time to you?" the voice asks him, annoyed but laced with a strange kind of amusement. Though he recognizes the voice, his brain is incapable of catching up with his ears until, finally, he looks up at the person standing before his desk.
"Gwangchul?" he says with an awkward, choked laugh and he goes to stand up. A firm hand shoves him back into his seat accompanied by a sharp glare. While Injoon gapes at his fiend, Gwangchul turns without a word and strides to another desk-- bigger, the kind meant for a teacher-- at the front of the room and sets his ruler down with a smug smile.
A quick scan of the room confirms Injoon's suspicions, as little sense as they make. Desks sit in neat rows surrounding Injoon's, which is at the very front and center of the classroom. A large white board covers the wall behind where Gwangchul stands. Through the windows on the wall to Injoon's right, he can see that it's night-time, but there's no clock in the room. Wait, that can't be right.
Gwangchul doesn't give him much time to consider the strangeness of it all, though, because he plucks a thick blue marker off of the desk and turns to the white board. In his scrawling hand-writing he scribbles something Injoon doesn't understand, but it looks something like English. "I didn't know you could write English..." Injoon wonders aloud. Gwangchul gives him a scrutinizing look over his shoulder while he continues to scribble.
"You didn't know that your English teacher could write English?" he asks, that amused, but commanding tone returning to his voice. It makes Injoon instinctively straighten in his chair. As Gwangchul scribbles the last few words on the board, a thought sparks in Injoon's mind.
"Hey, sunsaengnim," he says, noting the split-second smirk on Gwangchul's face as he says it. "Where are the other students?" He glances around casually and raises an eyebrow. Gwangchul sets his marker down and nods in satisfaction at his work. For a moment, Injoon thinks his question is going to go ignored, but Gwangchul turns and looks right at him. Unhurried, he shoves his hands into the creased pockets of his slacks and approaches Injoon's desk.
Another easy grin, and Injoon almost misses the words, "This is a special class; just for you, Injoon-sshi." A flush spreads across Injoon's face and neck, making him look down in shame. With a light chuckle, Gwangchul adds, "Someone like you would need remedial lessons, you know."
In a flash of anger, Injoon gets to his feet and shoves Gwangchul's arm. "Cut the bullshit, Gwangchul. What's going on here?"
Any surprise registers as a slight widening of Gwangchul's eyes. Placing a firm hand on Injoon's shoulder and locking eyes in an almost threatening glare, Gwangchul forces him back down into his seat. "Is that any way to talk to your teacher?" he asks, not expecting an answer. Injoon gulps as Gwangchul continues, leaning in until his face is so close to Injoon's that he can feel his breath on his cheek, "You will call me sunsaengnim." Goosebumps rise on Injoon's arms.
Now that Injoon is sitting, Gwangchul turns back to the board while leaning against the edge of Injoon's desk. "Tell me, Injoon-sshi, what is the first person singular pronoun?"
Though he's tempted to stay quiet, Injoon answers in a low mumble, "It's 'I.'"
"What was that, Injoon-sshi? Speak up, please." Injoon can feel Gwangchul's smile in his smug tone.
"I said it's 'I,'" he says again, a bit louder.
"It's 'I,' what?" Gwangchul leads him with a smile over his shoulder.
"The first person singular pronoun is 'I,' sunsaengnim," he practically growls, his hands fisted on the desk's surface. Gwangchul nods toward the board and steps away to draw a crooked line under where he'd written the same word on the board.
He adds a small smiley-face next to the word before glancing at Injoon. "Good job, Injoon-sshi, would you like a gold star? You're improving already." Every word is dripping with cheerful sarcasm and Injoon has to bite the insides of his mouth to keep from shouting. Nothing makes sense, but all he can do is respond, try to understand, and for the love of God not piss off Gwangchul. Something about the entire situation feels dangerous. "Now," Gwangchul continues, drawing Injoon out of his pensive thoughts. "How about second person singular?"
"'You,'" he replies automatically.
Another nod and Gwangchul draws another smiley-face next to the word. "Second person plural?"
"'You.'"
He expects more fake praise, but Gwangchul pauses and considers Injoon seriously. "What was that, Injoon-sshi?"
Injoon binks, suddenly unsure. "Um, 'you,' sunsaengnim," he repeats in a submissive squeak that makes his skin crawl. More than anything he wants to jut out his chin and act indifferent, bu Gwangchul's frown and the way he stares down Injoon so intently makes Injoon shift in his seat.
"Are you sure?" Injoon nods and Gwangchul's frown deepens. "Use it in a sentence."
"I, um-" he stutters, only to be cut off by Gwangchul who shakes his head and grabs the marker from the white board.
"Write a sentence on the board," he says with obvious disdain. Wiping his sweaty palms on the cotton of his uniform pants, Injoon slides out from behind the safety of his desk. Gwangchul hands him the marker with a small smile and pats him on the arm. "Show sunsaengnim what you know." He turns to the board and immediately his mind goes blank.
He knows this, he knows he knows it, he just has to know it. With a shaking hand, he slowly writes in huge, crooked letters, 'You,' and pauses. Something doesn't feel write. He wants to write, 'You go to the store,' but that sounds as if he's referring to one person, not two or more. How do you show it's more than one person? All his mind keeps shouting at him is, 'you.' Only when the marker suddenly springs from his fingers with an audible pop does he realize how hard he'd been squeezing it. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and pretends not to notice Gwangchul's soft laughter behind him.
"Is something wrong?" he asks as he hands Injoon the marker. He can see Gwangchul's smug smile out of the corner of his eye, but he focuses all of his attention on the board in front of him. Not that it helps, as the more he thinks about it, the less he knows. A foreign alphabet floats before his eyes and he feels like sinking into the dusty linoleum floor. What keeps him from literally sinking to his knees are a pair of arms which wrap around his waist as Gwangchul rests his chin on Injoon's shoulder. Injoon's knows that he should be bothered by this, but he's too busy conjugating strange verbs and contemplating what is and is not plural to care.
A tired grin spreads across his face as he ever so slowly writes out, "go to the store" next to his giant "you," and he lets out a small "ha!" in triumph. The mouth at the crook of his neck and the heavy breathing in his ear let him know that Gwangchul doesn't and isn't going to notice the accomplishment, but Injoon takes a moment to gaze at the words with eyes struggling to focus. "You aren't a teacher," he chuckles and leans back against Gwangchul's chest. He closes his eyes as Gwangchul's quick hands unbutton his white, standard-issue school shirt. "You can't even speak English!" He turns his head to meet Gwangchul's eyes, which blink and crinkle in a happy smile at him. "And you're not even really here."
There's something sad in those words, and it makes the bright light in Gwangchul's eyes dim a bit, so Injoon grabs the back of his head and pulls him into an awkward, somewhat painful over-the-shoulder kiss. Their teeth knock together and Injoon is fairly certain he bites Gwangchul's tongue in a lame attempt at biting his lip.
The hands at his waist drift up to his stomach, tickling Injoon through his undershirt and making him squirm. In retaliation Injoon forces his tongue into Gwangchul's surprised mouth and enjoys the way Gwangchul's arms tighten around him. "That's new," Gwangchul says, wonderfully breathless, when Injoon finally pulls away. Injoon grins and leans back for another kiss, but finds himself held firmly in place when he attempts to turn around.
"Ah, you're so cute when you're confused," Gwangchul sighs and nuzzles against the back of Injoon's neck. As much as he appreciates the contact, the amused glint in Gwangchul's eyes is infuriating. Luckily Gwangchul is more than willing to distract him with a warm hand against his thigh and a sharp bite on his earlobe. Whatever he'd been thinking about before, it isn't nearly as important as what is happening below his belt and what is potentially going to happen with that meandering hand getting higher and higher up his leg. He bites his lip when it stops moving and squirms. The only thing that keeps him from turning around and putting an end to Gwangchul's little game is Gwangchul's lips against his neck, right under his ear, and Gwangchul's other hand, which is pushing Injoon's shirt higher up his chest. The combination of warm mouth on his neck and cold air on his stomach makes him shiver.
"Do you want me to touch you?" Gwangchul asks, breaking the heavy silence and rubbing his hand against the crease in Injoon's pants.
The choked, pleading sound that escapes Injoon's lips when he goes to answer causes him to blush and shake his head. That is, until Gwangchul's finger finally find their way to the growing bulge they'd been avoiding. The slight friction is enough to send Injoon gasping, "Yes."
A low chuckle, but the fingers don't move much to Injoon's displeasure. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Gwangchul asks. His voice is rough and oddly begging despite its authoritative tone. Injoon's cock twitches and its demands are far more difficult to ignore. "Yes... ?"
"Yes, sunsaengnim," he breathes quietly and with a mission. He shifts his legs as if keeping them from falling asleep, accidentally rubbing against Gwangchul's groin only it isn't really an accident. The hiss in his ear is reward enough and Injoon says again, with a slight whine, "Yes, sunsaengnim."
"You always were my favorite student," Gwangchul groans and bites Injoon's shoulder hard enough to bruise. Not that Injoon minds, because in what seems like an instant, his pants are unbuttoned, shoved down and forgotten as Gwangchul's hand reaches into his boxers and wraps around his erection.
"F-fuck." Injoon's knees buckle but Gwangchul's free arm keeps him up until he regains control. Gwangchul's tongue licks at Injoon's collarbone as he begins stroking Injoon slowly, painfully, as Injoon's knuckles turn white from pressing so hard against the white board. For a second his fingers slip and make an embarrassing squeak against the plastic when he grabs back on. Gwangchul's nails dig into Injoon's chest and he moans.
Gwangchul alternates from staying perfectly still, while Injoon sweats and bites his lip to keep from begging for more, to moving his hand in long, squeezing pumps which send Injoon's mind reeling and hoping it never ends. At some point his dress shirt is yanked off, but Injoon feels less the moving of his arms and more the thumb rubbing over the head of his dick. His hips jerk of their own volition.and he's not sure how much longer he can hold on. Gwangchul bites him full on the shoulder, through his undershirt, and Injoon almost comes right there.
"So, Injoon-sshi," Gwangchul mumbles against his back. Despite being muffled, his voice is calm and even. "What is the first person singular pronoun?"
Injoon laughs, "You've got to be kid-" He grunts when Gwangchul gives his dick a harder-than-necessary squeeze. "Fine! It's 'I,' sunsaengnim," he chimes and is proud of himself until Gwangchul starts pumping him at a sudden, quick pace which has Injoon panting and gripping at the white board in pure desperation.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. Injoon pants and groans and tries to look back at his torturer, but Gwangchul manhandles him back into position. "Very good. Now what is the second person singular pronoun?"
Swallowing a sob, Injoon answers in a shaky voice, "The second person singular pronoun is 'you,' sunsaengnim."
"Very, very good." Injoon despises his friend, the English language, this entire game, but at this point he'd probably attempt speaking Russian to get Gwangchul to touch him again. When he doesn't, Injoon straightens up and starts to turn around, only to have Gwangchul grab him around the waist and spin him the rest of the way around and slam him back against the board. The metal of the marker tray digs into Injoon's back but it just makes him cry out louder when Gwangchul skillfully palms his cock and resumes his blindingly quick ministrations. Before he can stop himself, he orgasms into Gwangchul's hand and all over their stomachs, but Gwangchul just gives him another easy grin and lets Injoon rest his head on his shoulder.
His limbs feel heavy, his eyelids start to droop, and he's falling forward before he even realizes it.
"Hyung, hey, hyung." Jihwan is poking his arm and looking at Injoon with concern as he blinks open his eyes slowly. His dream still vivid on the backs of his eyelids, Injoon visibly shivers and looks away from his friend quickly. "You okay?" Jihwan asks, touching his arm.
"Yeah, just had a weird dream," Injoon laughs nervously and he spies Hyunchul watching him with that I-know-what-you-did stare. He looks back out the window of the plane. "How much longer until we're back in Japan?"
That's enough to pep up the kid. "About an hour," he replies before pulling his headphones back on. Injoon heaves a sigh of relief and rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the tension off.
As soon as they're off the plane, he whips out his cell phone and types a quick text:
Gwangchul, let's eat pork the next time I come to Korea!!!!!! kekekeke
That's what he gets for ignoring Gwangchul's texts, he supposes.
Pairing: Gwangchul/Injoon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2529
Summary: Revenge comes in all forms.
Notes: For gwangchul and raenism. ♥
"Injoon-sshi."
The voice is faint and familiar, the tone stern enough to make Injoon stir a little, but he drifts off almost as soon as he starts to come to.
"Injoon-sshi."
It's closer now, right next to him, and this time the voice is accompanied by a sharp jab in the shoulder. Injoon blinks slowly at the blinding fluorescent lights, hesitating a few seconds before bringing his face completely out of the safety of his folded arms. He's greeted by a cheerful argyle print and black leather belt, and doesn't even have time to contemplate why exactly he's sleeping at a desk and not in his bed before he's jabbed again. The offending object turns out to be a ruler, and Injoon lets out a yelp as it jabs him a third time.
"Does this look like nap time to you?" the voice asks him, annoyed but laced with a strange kind of amusement. Though he recognizes the voice, his brain is incapable of catching up with his ears until, finally, he looks up at the person standing before his desk.
"Gwangchul?" he says with an awkward, choked laugh and he goes to stand up. A firm hand shoves him back into his seat accompanied by a sharp glare. While Injoon gapes at his fiend, Gwangchul turns without a word and strides to another desk-- bigger, the kind meant for a teacher-- at the front of the room and sets his ruler down with a smug smile.
A quick scan of the room confirms Injoon's suspicions, as little sense as they make. Desks sit in neat rows surrounding Injoon's, which is at the very front and center of the classroom. A large white board covers the wall behind where Gwangchul stands. Through the windows on the wall to Injoon's right, he can see that it's night-time, but there's no clock in the room. Wait, that can't be right.
Gwangchul doesn't give him much time to consider the strangeness of it all, though, because he plucks a thick blue marker off of the desk and turns to the white board. In his scrawling hand-writing he scribbles something Injoon doesn't understand, but it looks something like English. "I didn't know you could write English..." Injoon wonders aloud. Gwangchul gives him a scrutinizing look over his shoulder while he continues to scribble.
"You didn't know that your English teacher could write English?" he asks, that amused, but commanding tone returning to his voice. It makes Injoon instinctively straighten in his chair. As Gwangchul scribbles the last few words on the board, a thought sparks in Injoon's mind.
"Hey, sunsaengnim," he says, noting the split-second smirk on Gwangchul's face as he says it. "Where are the other students?" He glances around casually and raises an eyebrow. Gwangchul sets his marker down and nods in satisfaction at his work. For a moment, Injoon thinks his question is going to go ignored, but Gwangchul turns and looks right at him. Unhurried, he shoves his hands into the creased pockets of his slacks and approaches Injoon's desk.
Another easy grin, and Injoon almost misses the words, "This is a special class; just for you, Injoon-sshi." A flush spreads across Injoon's face and neck, making him look down in shame. With a light chuckle, Gwangchul adds, "Someone like you would need remedial lessons, you know."
In a flash of anger, Injoon gets to his feet and shoves Gwangchul's arm. "Cut the bullshit, Gwangchul. What's going on here?"
Any surprise registers as a slight widening of Gwangchul's eyes. Placing a firm hand on Injoon's shoulder and locking eyes in an almost threatening glare, Gwangchul forces him back down into his seat. "Is that any way to talk to your teacher?" he asks, not expecting an answer. Injoon gulps as Gwangchul continues, leaning in until his face is so close to Injoon's that he can feel his breath on his cheek, "You will call me sunsaengnim." Goosebumps rise on Injoon's arms.
Now that Injoon is sitting, Gwangchul turns back to the board while leaning against the edge of Injoon's desk. "Tell me, Injoon-sshi, what is the first person singular pronoun?"
Though he's tempted to stay quiet, Injoon answers in a low mumble, "It's 'I.'"
"What was that, Injoon-sshi? Speak up, please." Injoon can feel Gwangchul's smile in his smug tone.
"I said it's 'I,'" he says again, a bit louder.
"It's 'I,' what?" Gwangchul leads him with a smile over his shoulder.
"The first person singular pronoun is 'I,' sunsaengnim," he practically growls, his hands fisted on the desk's surface. Gwangchul nods toward the board and steps away to draw a crooked line under where he'd written the same word on the board.
He adds a small smiley-face next to the word before glancing at Injoon. "Good job, Injoon-sshi, would you like a gold star? You're improving already." Every word is dripping with cheerful sarcasm and Injoon has to bite the insides of his mouth to keep from shouting. Nothing makes sense, but all he can do is respond, try to understand, and for the love of God not piss off Gwangchul. Something about the entire situation feels dangerous. "Now," Gwangchul continues, drawing Injoon out of his pensive thoughts. "How about second person singular?"
"'You,'" he replies automatically.
Another nod and Gwangchul draws another smiley-face next to the word. "Second person plural?"
"'You.'"
He expects more fake praise, but Gwangchul pauses and considers Injoon seriously. "What was that, Injoon-sshi?"
Injoon binks, suddenly unsure. "Um, 'you,' sunsaengnim," he repeats in a submissive squeak that makes his skin crawl. More than anything he wants to jut out his chin and act indifferent, bu Gwangchul's frown and the way he stares down Injoon so intently makes Injoon shift in his seat.
"Are you sure?" Injoon nods and Gwangchul's frown deepens. "Use it in a sentence."
"I, um-" he stutters, only to be cut off by Gwangchul who shakes his head and grabs the marker from the white board.
"Write a sentence on the board," he says with obvious disdain. Wiping his sweaty palms on the cotton of his uniform pants, Injoon slides out from behind the safety of his desk. Gwangchul hands him the marker with a small smile and pats him on the arm. "Show sunsaengnim what you know." He turns to the board and immediately his mind goes blank.
He knows this, he knows he knows it, he just has to know it. With a shaking hand, he slowly writes in huge, crooked letters, 'You,' and pauses. Something doesn't feel write. He wants to write, 'You go to the store,' but that sounds as if he's referring to one person, not two or more. How do you show it's more than one person? All his mind keeps shouting at him is, 'you.' Only when the marker suddenly springs from his fingers with an audible pop does he realize how hard he'd been squeezing it. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and pretends not to notice Gwangchul's soft laughter behind him.
"Is something wrong?" he asks as he hands Injoon the marker. He can see Gwangchul's smug smile out of the corner of his eye, but he focuses all of his attention on the board in front of him. Not that it helps, as the more he thinks about it, the less he knows. A foreign alphabet floats before his eyes and he feels like sinking into the dusty linoleum floor. What keeps him from literally sinking to his knees are a pair of arms which wrap around his waist as Gwangchul rests his chin on Injoon's shoulder. Injoon's knows that he should be bothered by this, but he's too busy conjugating strange verbs and contemplating what is and is not plural to care.
A tired grin spreads across his face as he ever so slowly writes out, "go to the store" next to his giant "you," and he lets out a small "ha!" in triumph. The mouth at the crook of his neck and the heavy breathing in his ear let him know that Gwangchul doesn't and isn't going to notice the accomplishment, but Injoon takes a moment to gaze at the words with eyes struggling to focus. "You aren't a teacher," he chuckles and leans back against Gwangchul's chest. He closes his eyes as Gwangchul's quick hands unbutton his white, standard-issue school shirt. "You can't even speak English!" He turns his head to meet Gwangchul's eyes, which blink and crinkle in a happy smile at him. "And you're not even really here."
There's something sad in those words, and it makes the bright light in Gwangchul's eyes dim a bit, so Injoon grabs the back of his head and pulls him into an awkward, somewhat painful over-the-shoulder kiss. Their teeth knock together and Injoon is fairly certain he bites Gwangchul's tongue in a lame attempt at biting his lip.
The hands at his waist drift up to his stomach, tickling Injoon through his undershirt and making him squirm. In retaliation Injoon forces his tongue into Gwangchul's surprised mouth and enjoys the way Gwangchul's arms tighten around him. "That's new," Gwangchul says, wonderfully breathless, when Injoon finally pulls away. Injoon grins and leans back for another kiss, but finds himself held firmly in place when he attempts to turn around.
"Ah, you're so cute when you're confused," Gwangchul sighs and nuzzles against the back of Injoon's neck. As much as he appreciates the contact, the amused glint in Gwangchul's eyes is infuriating. Luckily Gwangchul is more than willing to distract him with a warm hand against his thigh and a sharp bite on his earlobe. Whatever he'd been thinking about before, it isn't nearly as important as what is happening below his belt and what is potentially going to happen with that meandering hand getting higher and higher up his leg. He bites his lip when it stops moving and squirms. The only thing that keeps him from turning around and putting an end to Gwangchul's little game is Gwangchul's lips against his neck, right under his ear, and Gwangchul's other hand, which is pushing Injoon's shirt higher up his chest. The combination of warm mouth on his neck and cold air on his stomach makes him shiver.
"Do you want me to touch you?" Gwangchul asks, breaking the heavy silence and rubbing his hand against the crease in Injoon's pants.
The choked, pleading sound that escapes Injoon's lips when he goes to answer causes him to blush and shake his head. That is, until Gwangchul's finger finally find their way to the growing bulge they'd been avoiding. The slight friction is enough to send Injoon gasping, "Yes."
A low chuckle, but the fingers don't move much to Injoon's displeasure. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Gwangchul asks. His voice is rough and oddly begging despite its authoritative tone. Injoon's cock twitches and its demands are far more difficult to ignore. "Yes... ?"
"Yes, sunsaengnim," he breathes quietly and with a mission. He shifts his legs as if keeping them from falling asleep, accidentally rubbing against Gwangchul's groin only it isn't really an accident. The hiss in his ear is reward enough and Injoon says again, with a slight whine, "Yes, sunsaengnim."
"You always were my favorite student," Gwangchul groans and bites Injoon's shoulder hard enough to bruise. Not that Injoon minds, because in what seems like an instant, his pants are unbuttoned, shoved down and forgotten as Gwangchul's hand reaches into his boxers and wraps around his erection.
"F-fuck." Injoon's knees buckle but Gwangchul's free arm keeps him up until he regains control. Gwangchul's tongue licks at Injoon's collarbone as he begins stroking Injoon slowly, painfully, as Injoon's knuckles turn white from pressing so hard against the white board. For a second his fingers slip and make an embarrassing squeak against the plastic when he grabs back on. Gwangchul's nails dig into Injoon's chest and he moans.
Gwangchul alternates from staying perfectly still, while Injoon sweats and bites his lip to keep from begging for more, to moving his hand in long, squeezing pumps which send Injoon's mind reeling and hoping it never ends. At some point his dress shirt is yanked off, but Injoon feels less the moving of his arms and more the thumb rubbing over the head of his dick. His hips jerk of their own volition.and he's not sure how much longer he can hold on. Gwangchul bites him full on the shoulder, through his undershirt, and Injoon almost comes right there.
"So, Injoon-sshi," Gwangchul mumbles against his back. Despite being muffled, his voice is calm and even. "What is the first person singular pronoun?"
Injoon laughs, "You've got to be kid-" He grunts when Gwangchul gives his dick a harder-than-necessary squeeze. "Fine! It's 'I,' sunsaengnim," he chimes and is proud of himself until Gwangchul starts pumping him at a sudden, quick pace which has Injoon panting and gripping at the white board in pure desperation.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. Injoon pants and groans and tries to look back at his torturer, but Gwangchul manhandles him back into position. "Very good. Now what is the second person singular pronoun?"
Swallowing a sob, Injoon answers in a shaky voice, "The second person singular pronoun is 'you,' sunsaengnim."
"Very, very good." Injoon despises his friend, the English language, this entire game, but at this point he'd probably attempt speaking Russian to get Gwangchul to touch him again. When he doesn't, Injoon straightens up and starts to turn around, only to have Gwangchul grab him around the waist and spin him the rest of the way around and slam him back against the board. The metal of the marker tray digs into Injoon's back but it just makes him cry out louder when Gwangchul skillfully palms his cock and resumes his blindingly quick ministrations. Before he can stop himself, he orgasms into Gwangchul's hand and all over their stomachs, but Gwangchul just gives him another easy grin and lets Injoon rest his head on his shoulder.
His limbs feel heavy, his eyelids start to droop, and he's falling forward before he even realizes it.
"Hyung, hey, hyung." Jihwan is poking his arm and looking at Injoon with concern as he blinks open his eyes slowly. His dream still vivid on the backs of his eyelids, Injoon visibly shivers and looks away from his friend quickly. "You okay?" Jihwan asks, touching his arm.
"Yeah, just had a weird dream," Injoon laughs nervously and he spies Hyunchul watching him with that I-know-what-you-did stare. He looks back out the window of the plane. "How much longer until we're back in Japan?"
That's enough to pep up the kid. "About an hour," he replies before pulling his headphones back on. Injoon heaves a sigh of relief and rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the tension off.
As soon as they're off the plane, he whips out his cell phone and types a quick text:
Gwangchul, let's eat pork the next time I come to Korea!!!!!! kekekeke
That's what he gets for ignoring Gwangchul's texts, he supposes.