#19 Call For a Good Time [2/2]
CHAPTER 3
“You devious little rascal.” Baekhyun notices him first. “Not talking to me all weekend. What have you been doing? Or should I say who?”
Yixing raises his eyebrows, knowing Baekhyun well enough to tell when he's trying to get a rise.
“I don't know what you've been up to,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks past his friends, “but I've been working on my assignment. You know, that really important one that we need to complete before we're allowed to register for second semester?”
Baekhyun runs to catch up with him.
“The one we still have three months to do, you mean?”
Sehun pokes at Yixing's side, prompting him to turn his head.
“Come on, even you're not that keen.”
Yixing sighs, pulling the building's front doors open. Sehun speculates for a moment, studying his face.
“You've been scheming again.”
Yixing makes a face and mutters, “What a horrible word.”
Sehun holds his hand down low and Baekhyun gives it an insufferable high-five.
“Nailed it,” Sehun mumbles.
“Nailed what?” Chanyeol hums, slinging an arm over Baekhyun's shoulders.
“Where have you been?” Baekhyun asks, shoving his friend away.
“Ouch, I slept in. I'm a growing boy.”
“You're twenty-three, dumbass, you hit your monstrous height five years ago.”
Yixing is relieved that Chanyeol has appeared, the conversation deviating from his…less than wholesome Friday night activities.
Just as he thinks he's in the clear, Sehun leans over and whispers, “I'm going to figure it out, Yixing. I know you.”
He has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at his friend.
“Is that a threat?” he whispers back.
“Have you ever been able to lie to me?”
“I've never been able to lie at all,” Yixing points out.
Chanyeol and Baekhyun are still enthralled in playful banter when they wander into the classroom. Yixing takes a calming breath, anxiety suddenly running rampant in him once again. With Sehun at his side, he enters the class and takes a small detour towards the corner of the room. Professor Luo is reclining in his desk chair, feet tapping impatiently as he stares at the ceiling.
Yixing swallows hard. The man is wearing a stunning black collared shirt to match his black pants and shoes. Reaching into his pocket, Yixing pulls out a folded piece of paper and tosses it onto the professor's desk. Zhixiang's eyes flick to his face when he does so, holding none of the smugness or superiority he thought they might. Yixing can hardly hold his gaze for a second before darting away to his usual seat beside Sehun.
“What was that all about?” Baekhyun muses, leaning forward.
“What?” Yixing hums.
“Oh my God,” Sehun gawks, sitting back in disbelief, “You're playing innocent. You did something bad, didn't you?”
Baekhyun holds a hand to his face dramatically.
“We're only a week into the semester and this is already the juiciest gossip I've heard all degree,” he breathes.
Yixing scoffs.
“Keep dreaming, it was just a question about the assignment.”
His eyes dart towards Zhixiang, extremely conscious that the note is not about the assignment. He had scrawled it in the seconds before he had left home that morning. The note is still sitting untouched on his desk, the professor's eyes instead focussing on Yixing. He has to force a few discreet deep breaths to settle his racing pulse when Zhixiang finally does reach for the paper. Yixing is aware that Baekhyun is babbling on behind him, but it’s all background noise to the painfully loud thumping in his chest.
‘Thanks for Friday.’
Professor Luo scans the page for barely a moment before folding it back up and tucking it into his pocket, grabbing a thick stack of papers from a desk drawer and beginning to flip through them without so much as a glance at Yixing.
He clenches his fists to keep from gaping. No reaction whatsoever.
Had he guessed that Yixing knew? No… There was no way he would've jumped to that conclusion. Was he angry? Oh God, would Yixing be kicked out of class? Expelled? Deported? What if-
“Good morning class!” Professor Luo sing-songs as he stands from his chair and wanders to the centre of the room.
One student murmurs, “Fuck off, sir, I'm tired.”
“That's the spirit.” Zhixiang spins on his heel to face the student. “Who else is tired?” he asks.
Several students raise their hands, one drops her head onto her desk.
“That bad, huh?” he nods somberly, “I'm tired too, you know. My beauty sleep is severely reduced when my students decide to phone me past midnight.”
The room stills, awaiting what could be their first chastisement from Professor Luo. Yixing holds his breath. The professor sweeps his unamused gaze over the class, thankfully not stopping to single out Yixing.
“…I'm joking, I'm not upset,” he breaks into a grin.
The class seems to let out a collective sigh.
“But…" Yixing's jaw tenses when Professor Luo's gaze lands on him. “Zhang Yixing, see me after class, please.”
His stomach drops. From behind him, Jongdae gives a juvenile ‘ooh’, rewarded with a slap from Chanyeol.
“Don't ‘ooh’ him, he's not in trouble,” the professor laughs, “Quite the opposite, I'm very pleased with him.” Zhixiang smirks at Yixing and his face flares; grateful that none of his classmates truly know why.
He bows his head slightly.
“Anyways,” Professor Luo picks back up, striding towards the whiteboard, “about that assignment.”
He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and undoes the top button of his shirt, rolling his neck and briefly massaging one shoulder before snatching a whiteboard marker.
Yixing's breath catches in his throat when he realizes why.
‘When you roll up your sleeves in class I can't take my eyes off your arms, when you undo the top button of your shirt I want to undo the rest of them’.
Bastard.
By leaving that note, Yixing has initiated a petty war. He quirks his head, something in his chest prompting him to stage a counterattack. He raises his hand.
“Yixing?”
“Sorry, Professor,” his voice drops minutely, “Just wondering how the marks will be distributed on the assignment. You didn't specify.”
Zhixiang nods and turns to the board, scribbling a few quick percentages and explaining, “Content, structure, development, sources.” He taps to each number in turn.
Yixing can hardly comprehend how he is remaining so calm in this situation.
He smiles and hums, “Thank you, Professor.”
An almost indiscernible muscle twitches in his instructor's neck and Yixing knows he's succeeded.
“Dismissed,” Professor Luo waves a hand and falls into his chair, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“Well, I guess we'll see you later…" Sehun hesitates, prying himself from his seat.
“Please tell me what happens, I thrive on drama; don't let me wilt,” Baekhyun hisses into Yixing's ear, making him jump.
Chanyeol grabs Baekhyun by the arm and forcibly removes him from the steadily emptying room. Soon, Yixing is the only student left, still seated at his desk in the third row.
A sudden sigh from Zhixiang frightens Yixing.
His professor is staring intently at the ceiling when he speaks, “…How?”
It's in Chinese.
Yixing hides his face in his hands and replies, “It was an accident.”
Zhixiang chuckles.
“I can imagine it was. The first time.”
Yixing slides down in his seat, not wanting to be seen.
“I'm sorry,” he squeaks, peeking through his fingers.
Professor Luo bursts out laughing this time, glancing over to Yixing.
“For what?” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “You're too quick to apologize, Yixing.”
The student lifts his head, watching his instructor with suspicion.
Zhixiang shrugs.
“You wouldn't have called me again if you'd been sorry. You wouldn't have left me this,” he tosses Yixing's note down on the desk, “if you'd been sorry.”
His professor's calm demeanour makes him blush even harder. Professor Luo presses up from his desk and walks towards the door; for a moment Yixing thinks he's about to leave. When he pushes it shut and flicks the lock, Yixing can feel his heartbeat leap into his throat.
His hand is still resting on the doorknob when he asks, very soberly, “Yes or no?”
Zhixiang is studying his face. Yixing digs his nails into his thigh and forces his voice out above a whisper.
“Yes, please.”
The atmosphere changes in the blink of an eye.
“Come here.”
It's not a request, it's an order. Yixing bites his lip and carefully maneuvers between desks, conscious of Zhixiang's eyes following him. There's a beat of silence when Yixing stops two or three feet in front of his professor.
“Don't be shy,” Zhixiang coaxes, tilting Yixing's head up until they lock eyes. His expression is so smug it's bordering on obnoxious, but fuck if it isn't hot.
Yixing nods, relaxing his shoulders and unclenching his jaw.
“Tell me what you want,” Professor Luo continues.
A shiver courses through Yixing; hearing his voice on the phone was one thing, but having those words spoken to him face to face is another entirely.
“I want…" Yixing pauses and contemplates, eyes narrowing. “I want you to ruin me.”
Zhixiang's eyes grow darker before he replies, “Doable.”
He grabs Yixing's waist and spins, shoving him up against the wall and kissing him. He gasps into the kiss and twines one hand up Zhixiang's chest and around to the back of his neck, tugging him closer. Zhixiang squeezes Yixing's hips before snaking both hands under his shirt. Something cool presses against his skin and Yixing realizes Professor Luo is wearing rings.
He pulls back, worry settling over him.
“What's wrong?” Zhixiang pants, gaze flicking between his eyes and lips.
“…You're not married, are you?”
Professor Luo laughs, pulling one hand out from under Yixing's top.
There are two rings, both too wide to reasonably be wedding bands.
“Surprisingly, no,” he hums.
Yixing ignores the snark, mumbling, “Thank God,” and pulling him back into a heated kiss.
Zhixiang smiles against his lips, running his hand back under Yixing's shirt and up his chest. He rubs a thumb over one nipple and Yixing responds by biting his professor's bottom lip.
When they break apart, Zhixiang pulls Yixing's top over his head.
“God, you're gorgeous,” he growls, sucking at Yixing's jaw.
Zhixiang's hands press at his back, sliding down steadily until they're resting on his ass. He squeezes, causing Yixing to jerk his hips up. They both moan and Zhixiang moves down to Yixing's neck.
Yixing squeaks, shoulders tensing slightly when lips press against his skin.
“Sensitive, are we?” Zhixiang murmurs, licking a stripe up the side of his neck.
Yixing's knees buckle and Zhixiang has to press him to the wall to keep him from collapsing.
“Good to know,” he chuckles, latching on to a spot just above Yixing's collarbone and sucking.
Yixing keens, fingers tangling in his professor's hair. He drops his head back against the wall, numb to everything but the scrape of teeth along his shoulder. With his unused hand, Yixing reaches between them and starts to pop open the buttons of Professor Luo's shirt.
“You don't want me fully-clothed?” Zhixiang asks against Yixing's chest.
He moves down to suck on one nipple and Yixing clenches the fingers threaded through Zhixiang's hair into a fist.
“I'd hate to waste this opportunity,” Yixing replies, holding a moan in his throat.
The professor flicks his tongue and Yixing rocks his hips up involuntarily, colliding with Zhixiang's hip. Navigating one hand around to the front of Yixing's pants, the professor rubs against his hardening cock. The rough friction draws a groan from Yixing. Professor Luo pulls him back into a feverish kiss, shrugging off his shirt and unzipping his student's pants.
Yixing distractedly detaches from the kiss, eyes straying to Zhixiang's now-shirtless body.
“What? What is it?” Zhixiang murmurs, running his tongue up the shell of Yixing's ear before nipping at the lobe.
“Nothing,” he breathes, receiving a laugh in return.
“That so?” Zhixiang hums.
He gives a quick yank on Yixing's pants, pulling them down over his ass and letting his cock spring free. Without hesitation, the professor drops to his knees and takes him into his mouth.
Yixing cries out, both hands slamming back against the wall.
"Oh my God,” he chokes.
His knees begin to tremble so he shifts his weight onto his shoulders and takes a laboured breath. His head falls uselessly against the board behind him.
Zhixiang pulls off his cock and orders, “Watch me, Yixing.”
Yixing urges his head down to look at his professor as he's told to, almost unable to hold himself up when Zhixiang sinks back down onto his cock, their eyes locked. He bobs his head skillfully, working his tongue along the underside of Yixing's erection. Yixing gasps and digs his nails into his thigh, wanting but not willing to break eye contact with Professor Luo.
“Shit, Professor,” Yixing hisses.
He'd nearly forgotten the preference Zhixiang has for his title until a suppressed moan has his cock twitching between his professor's lips.
“Ah!” Yixing yelps.
He's helpless to do anything but watch until Zhixiang reaches for his hands, placing them both atop his head and urging Yixing to take control. Licking his lips, Yixing forms a tentative grasp; he's unused to being in charge of sexual situations.
He manually stills Zhixiang's movements and give an experimental thrust. When he's met with a groan and his professor's eyes fluttering closed, he continues. Thrusting carefully into Zhixiang's hot mouth is so much more intense than he could've even imagined when their interactions were limited to late night phone calls. Professor Luo slides one hand into his pants, stroking his cock while Yixing fucks his mouth.
“Ng-shit. Take your pants off,” Yixing whines.
Zhixiang opens his eyes again and sits back on his heels, cock sliding easily from between his lips. A thin string of saliva breaks, dripping down his chin onto his chest.
“Fuck, I told you you look good on your knees, Professor.”
Zhixiang chuckles before rising and undoing his belt. His slacks fall easily to the ground, followed by his boxers. Yixing pauses halfway into ridding himself of his own pants and swallows hard around a new lump in his throat.
Zhixiang notices him staring and hums, “You really know how to make a guy feel special, hm?” He tickles a finger under Yixing's chin.
“Sorry, I just can't-” Yixing shakes his head, “You're so hot.”
His professor presses a lingering kiss to his lips before murmuring, “What do you want?”
Yixing shivers.
“I want you on top of me.”
Zhixiang can't suppress a smirk.
“Floor, desk or wall?” he asks, smoothing his palms up Yixing's sides.
“Desk,” Yixing answers without delay.
“Good choice,” the professor growls, tugging Yixing by his wrist.
Zhixiang shoves him back onto the desk, taking a cursory glance at the door to ensure they're properly hidden before kicking his chair out of the way and snatching a bottle of lubricant and a condom out of the bottom drawer of his desk.
“Do I want to know why you have those in your desk?” Yixing stares down at him, propped up on his elbows.
Zhixiang shrugs a shoulder, “I bought them over the weekend. Wishful thinking.”
Yixing bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a pleased grin.
“Open,” Zhixiang taps one of Yixing's knees.
He slathers the lube over his fingers while Yixing draws his feet up to rest on the desk's edge, knees falling apart.
“Fuck,” Zhixiang murmurs at the sight, “Are you flexible, Yixing?”
“Very,” Yixing chirps.
Zhixiang caresses the student's inner thigh.
"That's what I like to hear.”
He circles one finger around the entrance before pressing in, more gently than Yixing had anticipated. He drops his head onto the desk with a mewl, mindful of Zhixiang's eyes roving over him.
When another finger is added, Yixing squeezes his eyes shut, mouth falling open in wordless pleasure. Zhixiang scissors his fingers apart with an obscene sound, occasionally curling them at the knuckle to draw weak yelps out of Yixing.
“Another,” he gasps.
Zhixiang complies, holding one of Yixing's thighs as he squeezes a third finger into his hole. Yixing momentarily tenses, toes curling over the edge of the desk.
“Relax, relax,” his professor coos, working his hand with caution.
Letting out a heavy breath, Yixing forces his muscles to loosen. The fingers inside of him begin to pump faster and Yixing gasps, hands scrabbling at his legs.
“Just like that,” Zhixiang applauds softly.
He's studying Yixing with half-lidded eyes, a smirk just barely hinting across his lips. Yixing chokes on a moan when he thrusts in particularly hard, Zhixiang's expression still casually resting on the verge of complacency.
“I really do love how you look on your back,” he hums, spreading his fingers within Yixing.
“Ah!” Yixing cries, already writhing by the time he confirms, “I'm ready, I'm ready.”
There's a lewd squelch as Zhixiang withdraws his hand, promptly rolling on the condom and pressing the tip of his cock to Yixing's entrance.
He presses in with a measured breath, jaw tensing and eyes falling shut and God, it's far more beautiful than anything Yixing's imagination could've produced. Yixing grabs at his knees and pulls his legs farther apart, prompting Zhixiang's cock in until it can't get any deeper.
They both groan, Yixing not hesitating to urge, “Move now.”
Zhixiang drags his cock back out and Yixing's muscles instinctively clench around him.
“Fuck, Yixing,” the professor hisses.
He clutches at the pale skin of Yixing's thighs, digging his blunt nails in so as not to drive his hips forward. Zhixiang's thrusts are gentle; restrained.
“Faster, please,” Yixing breathes.
He slams forward unexpectedly and Yixing cries out, back arching off the desk.
Zhixiang stops immediately and presses a finger to his lips, suppressing a laugh.
“You can't be too loud. Not here at least.”
Yixing shivers at the implication but nods his head, mumbling, “Do it like that again, Professor.”
Zhixiang's eyes darken, seemingly pleased with Yixing's instruction. He gives a few experimental thrusts before hoisting Yixing's feet over his shoulders and initiating a brutal pace.
“Shit!” Yixing chokes, throwing one hand belatedly over his mouth.
An amused smile flashes across Zhixiang's mouth. It quickly transforms into a snarl, however, as he concentrates on his movements, arms tightening possessively around Yixing's legs. Zhixiang drops his head forward, growling low in his throat at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Yixing.
Supressed moans escape from behind Yixing's hand. The classroom echoes with the distinct sounds of sex: the savage slap of skin on skin, the grinding of the desk legs under exertion, the desperate, laboured breaths.
Yixing bites his hand to stifle his moans, shoulders jerking back against the desk with the force of the thrusts. Several papers have already been shoved gracelessly onto the floor.
Zhixiang wraps a hands around Yixing's cock and starts to jerk him off, hips slowing just barely as he begins to tire. With his free hand unoccupied, Yixing half sits up and reaches forward, grabbing Zhixiang's ass and trying to urge him ever deeper.
Zhixiang groans, eyebrows furrowing. He bends forward and forces Yixing's legs almost flush against his own body. The new angle draws a sob from Yixing, muscles near spasming as his professor drives into his prostate. His teeth dig painfully into his hand until he can't take it, slamming his fist back onto the desk beside him.
“So close, please, Professor,” Yixing whines, tossing his head from one side to the other helplessly.
Zhixiang tightens his grip around Yixing's cock, plunging his hips forward as Yixing rocks back, unfiltered moans piercing the air.
He comes with a gasp, body shuddering as he spills onto his chest.
When Yixing’s orgasm has been ridden-out, Zhixiang releases his cock in favour of grabbing his hips. The professor starts fucking into him hard enough to screw his face up with bliss.
Yixing yelps at the over-stimulation, muscles involuntarily clenching back around Zhixiang's cock.
“F-fuck, Yixing,” Zhixiang stutters, movements turning hasty and incomplete.
His lip draws back-almost feral-when he buries himself deep, coming with a cry. His nails dig into Yixing's sides as his torso contracts.
“Christ,” Zhixiang pants, leaning forward onto his student's chest to ride out the last of his orgasm, pelvis spasming weakly.
Yixing heaves himself up onto his elbows to watch Zhixiang, enraptured.
“Are you sure you're the same blushing virgin who called me by accident the other week?” Zhixiang hums as he lifts his head.
Yixing pouts, “Not a virgin.”
Zhixiang chuckles and eases his cock out from between Yixing's legs, sliding off the condom and tying it. He grabs a tissue and gently wipes Yixing's chest clean before pressing a quick kiss to one hipbone.
“I suggest you go home and take a shower. Yours truly, on the other hand,” Zhixiang glances up at the clock, “Oh shit. I have a class starting in fifteen minutes. Not to the kill the tender post-coital atmosphere, but you need to get out.”
Yixing snorts and watches Zhixiang tiptoe across the room with his back pressed to the wall, glance out the inset window, then dart to pick up the clothes strewn across the floor. Yixing's shirt and pants land next to him on the desk after he sits up. He pulls his underwear over his legs, hopping onto the floor gracefully to tug them over his ass.
“Don't think this means I'm giving you a good grade,” Zhixiang points to him with narrowed eyes and a joking smirk.
“Don't insult me,” Yixing scoffs, yanking his shirt over his head.
Zhixiang's mouth falls open in silent realization.
“Of course. Mr. Full-Ride Scholarship. I forgot.”
He tosses Yixing's shoes at him. Yixing pauses with one leg in his pants, quirking an eyebrow.
“You sound doubtful.”
Zhixiang holds an offended hand to his chest after buckling his belt.
“Me? Of course not. I have the utmost confidence in each and every one of my dedicated students. You show up each day with the intention of working hard and achieving your goals, who am I to-”
Yixing pecks him on the lips to shut him up. Zhixiang stumbles back until he hits the wall then slides to the floor dramatically.
“My Prince Charming,” he whispers, running a hand over his lips.
Yixing prods at his slumped form with one foot, hand reaching to unlock the door. He pauses though, and turns to his professor.
“I don't have any hickeys, do I?”
He chews his lip nervously.
Zhixiang jumps to his feet and spins Yixing around, lifting his shirt to take an unnecessarily thorough look. Two fingers are held up in front of his face. Yixing pales.
“Where?”
Zhixiang taps once on Yixing's collarbone and once on the side of his jaw.
“Shit,” Yixing whines.
“What? You don't appreciate my handiwork?” Zhixiang mopes.
Yixing shakes his head.
“It's not that, it's my friends-”
“I know the ones,” Zhixiang holds up a hand, almost in sympathy, “How good are you at lying?”
Yixing doesn't answer, instead walking towards the wall and banging his head against it.
“Wow. That bad? Don't worry, you have the rest of the day to make something up,” he pats Yixing's ass in comfort, “I mean it's only-” a glance at the clock, “-fuck! You need to leave!”
Zhixiang jumps over two desks, snatches Yixing's bag, and hurls it across the room. Yixing catches it and slings it over his shoulder, grabbing the door handle for a second time.
He turns over his shoulder and says, “…Thank you, Zhixiang. Honestly.”
His professor is busy picking papers off the floor and hastily re-stacking them.
Zhixiang flashes him a smile and replies, “I do what I can. See you tomorrow, Yixing,” as the student opens the door.
Yixing is flooded by young students-first years-the moment he steps outside. A few of the girls are grouped together, giggling and pointing into Zhixiang's classroom with hearts in their eyes.
He smirks, hearing Zhixiang explain from inside, “Sorry about that; one of my Master's students needed to write his test during my break.”
CHAPTER 4
Yixing keeps his head down, not bothering to search for his friends in the sparse group of students milling around outside the hall. He'd wrapped a scarf nearly up to his ears before he'd left his apartment this morning to hide the mark on his jaw-despite the temperature not looking like it would drop below seventeen degrees.
“Hey, pal!” Sehun wraps an arm around Yixing's shoulders, scaring the living daylights out of him. “Feeling a bit chilly?”
“My apartment's draughty, I caught a cold,” Yixing sniffles.
His friend nods and Yixing has no idea if he's bought into the lie.
“Why not just wear a mask?” Sehun asks and Yixing cringes inwardly.
“…They're all in the laundry.”
“Has my little lamb fallen ill?”
He hears Baekhyun before he sees him.
“Yup,” Yixing confirms sombrely, not turning his head towards Baekhyun for fear that his scarf will fall.
“You should've stayed home from classes today,” Chanyeol comments.
“Yeah, I should've,” Yixing remarks under his breath, pulling the building's front door open.
Sehun takes a deep breath, sighing on the exhale.
“Nice and warm in here, isn't it, Baekhyun.”
Yixing clenches his jaw, certain that Sehun is throwing a conniving wink at Baekhyun.
“Yeah, totally! Must be, what? Nineteen degrees in here? Twenty?”
Chanyeol mutters, “I wouldn't say-oof!”
Yixing rolls his eyes.
“What did you hit me for?” he hisses at Baekhyun, who ignores him entirely.
“Why not take off that scarf, Yixing? You don't want to overheat.”
“I'm not hot,” Yixing answers.
It's a lie; he can already feel sweat beading at the nape of his neck.
He pushes the classroom door open and directs a glare towards his professor, who glances up in time to see two men following on Yixing's heels, hands extended eagerly towards his scarf. Yixing falls into his seat, wincing and instantly flushing with regret. When he glances back to the corner of the room, Zhixiang has his head down on his desk, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“After four years together, we can read you like a book,” Sehun explains.
Baekhyun picks up, nudging Yixing's shoulder, “Just take the scarf off; don't be shy.”
Yixing spares a few moments for contemplation before sighing and resigning himself to his fate. He unwraps the scarf and shoves it into his bag, thankful to at least be a bit cooler. When he turns back to his friends, Sehun has his chin in his hands and an obnoxious grin on his face.
“So… Who's the lucky guy?” he presses, eyes flicking down to the neat bruise on Yixing's jaw.
“Nobody important.”
“I thought you weren't comfortable having sex with strangers,” Baekhyun hums with narrowed eyes.
Yixing mumbles, “He wasn't a stranger.”
All three of his friends let out identical gasps.
“Holy shit,” Baekhyun hisses, elated, “So I know him? It was Minseok, wasn't it? As long as it wasn't Jongdae-”
“I didn't say you knew him,” Yixing reasons.
“You sly devil, you're making me work for it,” Baekhyun leans back into his seat, “That's alright, I love a challenge.”
Sehun is looking at him sideways from the next seat over. His gaze is just perceptive enough to set Yixing on edge, and combined with his uncharacteristic silence…
“Okay class!” Zhixiang claps, jumping from his chair, “Let's start with a group discussion.”
Yixing can't focus on the course material; his gaze keeps wandering over to that spot on the wall, and to the professor's desk. He can hardly even watch Zhixiang, remembering exactly how he looked on his knees while Yixing fucked his mouth. This is not a situation Yixing ever imagined he would be in.
When Zhixiang dismisses the class, Yixing expects to feel relief rather than disappointment. He wants to spend more time with the professor.
“So it wouldn't have been Junmyeon,” Baekhyun picks up immediately where he left off.
Sehun is still quiet, eyes hovering over their professor.
Yixing dawdles in packing up his notes and textbooks. The class is entirely devoid of students by the time the group heads for the door, Baekhyun still spouting off the names of every male student that comes to mind.
“Zhang Yixing.”
Yixing freezes. So do his friends, if Chanyeol hitting something solid and whining, “Why'd you stop?” is any indication.
“Can any of your friends speak Chinese?” Zhixiang asks in Mandarin, eyeing the group skeptically.
Yixing glances behind him and is met with three equally blank stares.
“Not in the slightest.”
“Good,” Zhixiang hums, standing and walking towards Yixing casually, “Then you should know how much I want to fuck you again.”
Yixing's jaw drops. His professor crosses his arms.
“I couldn't stop thinking about you yesterday- about how tight you were around my cock, how much I wanted to hear you scream.”
Yixing can feel a blush spreading down his neck. Zhixiang is speaking in a well-mannered, conversational tone that, no doubt, sounds the embodiment of innocence to any other listeners.
“I want to fuck you into my mattress, so I can hear every sound that comes out of your sinful little mouth, alright?” Zhixiang smiles courteously.
Yixing simply nods, unable to bring himself to reply in the presence of his friends.
“Great, you have my number. See you tomorrow,” he switches back into Korean at the last moment.
Chanyeol offers an awkward wave goodbye as Yixing stumbles past him with prickling cheeks.
“What was that about?” Baekhyun asks when they reach the front door of the building.
“Uh…” Shit. “…He found out I was a scholarship recipient and… wanted to congratulate me,” Yixing mutters.
Baekhyun sticks his tongue out and grumbles, “Teacher's pet.”
Chanyeol grabs his arm and mumbles something, effectively drawing Baekhyun away from the conversation.
Sehun leans into Yixing's side and mutters, “‘Teacher’s pet’. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Yixing covers his face with his hands.
“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,” Sehun chuckles.
“Not even Baekhyun?” Yixing murmurs through his fingers.
Sehun scoffs, “Especially not Baekhyun.”
Thankfully, he sounds sincere.
“Although,” Sehun holds up a finger and Yixing groans, “If I find any unwelcome bodily substances on my desk, I'll rent a plane and write it in the fucking sky for the world to see.”