#194: analysis of variance
Prompt: #194
Title: analysis of variance
Pairing: Chen/Kai
Rating: R
Warnings: making out, heavy petting, hints of oral sex
Word count: 5555
Summary: Sleepy Kim Jongin is great at statistics and not so great at keeping herself awake during class. She is assigned as a tutor to kittenish cheerleader Kim Jongdae. There is flirting, dancing, and lots of mutual smiling, but not a lot of statistics being done.
Author’s note: Dear prompter, thank you for a great prompt! I wish this could’ve been longer because I do have many headcanons but sadly… Anyway, I hope you like the smuttish scene; it’s my favourite out of the whole fic (which is why it’s almost half the word count) ;3
A flash of gold in the corner of Jongin’s eye makes her jump. She turns out of her pirouette and lands on the soles of her feet ungainly, feeling very much like a swan being transformed back into an ugly duckling. She grasps the bars and groans. Her feet ache. She looks up. Professor Xu stares back at her in the mirror.
Jongin yelps.
“Miss Kim,” Professor Xu says, his tired expression making his voice sound even drier. “Are you awake, Miss Kim, or are you still appreciating first-hand the brilliant inanity of dreams?”
The words make sense but don’t at the same time, so Jongin frowns and wonders why there are scribbles on the mirrors. Yixing is going to make her scrub the mirrors when it isn’t even her fault, damn it. She feels a pinching sensation in her left arm, goes to scratch it, and wakes up from a brutal kick to her shin.
“Oh Sehun!” she hisses, eyes wrenched open, and freezes as the whole class snickers around her. Jongin lowers herself back into her seat and smiles up sheepishly at Professor Xu. “Sorry, Prof.”
The statistics professor just sighs. “Stay back after the tutorial, Miss Kim.”
Jongin flushes pink as Sehun continues to poke her in the arm. She turns her attention back to her computer screen, ignoring her tablemate’s nonsense as she quickly runs the few tests that some poor bumbling soul is struggling to demonstrate in front of the class and saves the SPSS file. “Stop it, I’m awake now,” she mutters to Sehun after a particularly hard jab.
“I know, star pupil, love of Prof’s life,” Sehun says, grinning. “Do whatever you did again, I didn’t see all the steps.”
“No,” Jongin grouses, laying her head back down on her folded arms. Professor Xu isn’t looking in their direction anymore, too busy guiding everyone through the steps of a non-parametric test that they learned (albeit briefly) last semester. “Pay attention to Prof Xu and you’ll get it.”
Sehun sniffs. “You suck.” But she shuts up and starts frantically copying whatever their professor is scribbling on the whiteboard anyway.
Jongin huffs into her sweater. She’s not going to fall asleep again. Prof is really nice to her because she gets stats like no one else, but he will assign detention to Jongin if he needs to. And Jongin likes Prof Xu, especially since he’s currently battling admin to get Jongin into his Level 4 stats seminar before the add/drop period ends. A second-year student in Level 4, where everyone else in her cohort is still stuck on their requisite Level 2 course. Even Sehun’s giving up stats after this particular Level 3 module. Jongin’s good. She’s good at statistics even if she’s shit at the writing part of psychology, and she likes being good at something practical, as what her dad would say. She’s hungry for more math, more advanced study designs to learn to analyze, because that’s what studying people is like, right? Complicated, inclusive of multiple factors at different levels?
“Tell me you’re not daydreaming about something stupid like linear regression. Again,” Sehun says when the class finally wraps up and everyone starts scrambling to save their files.
“No. I was thinking about factor analysis, actually.”
“You’re so weird, Kim Jongin.”
“Same to you, Sehunnie,” she replies sweetly, leaning over to mess up her friend’s newly dyed platinum locks. “See you later at lunch?”
“Yeah, yeah, get on with your date with Prof Xu, you nerd.” Sehun waves goodbye as she slips out of the door, short plaid skirt flapping around her thighs.
Jongin grabs her things and moves to the front. She waits patiently as a couple of other students finish asking their questions, and smiles at a senior that she recognizes vaguely from another elective. Then it’s her turn, and she tries to look a little more contrite as Professor Xu turns to her.
“Ah, Miss Kim, our sleeping prodigy,” the statistics professor says. He takes off his gold-rimmed spectacles and cleans the lenses. “I’ve spoken to the department, and I have good news for you, Miss Kim.” He winces at her sharp squeal. “You’ll be joining our ANOVA class on Tuesday, but under one condition.”
Jongin muffles any future outbursts of excitement by stuffing the end of her sleeve into her mouth. “What condition?” she mumbles through the cloth.
Prof Xu eyes her damp sleeve for a moment, and then shakes his head. “I have a student under me as an RA, and she’s very good, very creative and passionate about her work. But her statistics, they need help. I was hoping that you would agree to be her tutor, give her a little bit of a refresher on running tests on SPSS, that kind of thing.”
“I can do that,” Jongin says, spitting out her sleeve and adjusting her glasses. “Thank you so much, Prof, I promise I won’t fall asleep in class again.”
“It’s enough for you to try, Miss Kim,” he replies, picking up his laptop. “I will contact you with the details via email, latest by this afternoon. Have a good day, Jongin, and I’ll see you on Tuesday, nine o’clock sharp, seminar room two, yes?”
-
Two days later finds Jongin sitting in the bleachers on a Saturday morning, nursing a paper cup full of hot chocolate. Her glasses are all fogged up from the cold and her sneakers feel suspiciously damp, but she doesn’t move from her spot. The seats around her are empty save for a few equally bleary-eyed students clasping various hot drinks. Jongin takes a sip of hers and peers across the field, trying to spot her friends.
“Why are we here?” Taemin whines, appearing out of nowhere with a bag full of Subway sandwiches. “I thought we said we’d never come to support them again, why are we here?”
“You don’t have to be here, you know.” Jongin grabs the bag of food and starts rifling through it, ignoring her best friend’s indignant yell. “You don’t even hang out with most of them.”
“Yes, but I hang out with you, sweet darling Jonginnie.”
In retaliation, she throws the plastic bag at Taemin, grinning when the purple-haired boy screeches and nearly drops his sandwich.
“Evil little Jonginnie,” Taemin says, his eyes narrowed. “Anyway, who’re we watching on this shitty morning full of rain? Anyone interesting?”
Jongin chomps on one end of her sandwich. “Jonghyun’s over there, go salivate over him. He’s probably gonna be taking off his shirt when the rain properly starts.”
Taemin swipes at her with his scarf.
“Xiumin-unnie’s by the goal, I think, with Luhan. Zitao’s late, but what’s new.”
“Huang Zitao has so many watches, the rich asshole, it’s amazing how he’s never on time.”
Jongin and Taemin turn to look at the girl sitting behind them. She’s in a red tracksuit that looks a size too large for her, a scarf tied tightly around her neck. Her long brown hair is tied into a ponytail and tucked into a red snapback positioned at a slightly jaunty angle. She’s rubbing her palms together-her hands are tiny and cute. Her whole being is tiny and cute, from her ears to her mouth.
“-Jongdae, but the guys call me Chen, because you know, it’s ‘morning’ in Mandarin and ‘dae’ sounds like ‘day’ in English, and-hey, your drink!” A firm hand grabs Jongin’s shoulder in time to save the cup of hot chocolate from tumbling down onto the field.
“Thanks,” Jongin mutters, her cheeks warm.
Jongdae smiles. Her lips curl up at the corners and her eyes wrinkle, making her look like a kitten. Jongin inexplicably wants to pet her. “No problem.”
“Jongin. Kim Jongin, and this is Lee Taemin.”
“I know, he introduced himself while you were, uh, spacing out,” Jongdae says, laughing. “Nice to meet you, Kim Jongin. Us Kims should stick together. Hey, you know Xiumin-unnie?”
Not liking the way Taemin’s snickering into his meatball marinara, Jongin nods. “She’s my block warden, she’s very nice.”
“Cool, cool. Hey, look, they’re warming up!” Jongin watches as Jongdae takes out a huge signboard out of her bag and lifts it up. It’s a rectangle piece of black plastic about as wide as Jongdae’s arm span, with large neon lettering pasted all over. And it’s laminated. “Because of the rain, you know, gotta be prepared.” Jongdae winks at her, and then starts yelling at a volume that belies her small stature, “Umin-unnie, go go go! Beat those boys!”
On the field, the guys start booing good-naturedly. Jongdae doesn’t stop, just keeps shouting Xiumin-unnie’s name to Jongin’s amazement.
“She’s cute,” Taemin murmurs into her ear.
“She’s weird,” Jongin whispers back.
-
From: Chen
heeeeeeeeey
To: Chen
hey 2 u 2
From: Chen
omg I should tutor you in post-2000 textspeak
anyway I have a thing tomorrow so we need to reschedule
sorry ><
could we meet right after that? say 7.30?
To: Chen
ok
:)
From: Chen
I’ll treat you to dinner~
OH YAY
To: Chen
u kno i like chicken ^^
From: Chen
one day the cock joke will happen im js
but I’m not crass so… see you tomorrow
squawk squawk
Smiling at her phone, Jongin types out a brief response. It’s been about a month and a half since she walked into a tutorial room to find that Kim Jongdae in need of a statistics tutor. It’s been an interesting time, to say the least, Jongin quickly finding out that Jongdae, Chen for short, really, really loathes statistics and has a ridiculous fear of the SPSS software.
“Chengzi?” Yixing asks from across the dance studio.
“Yeah,” Jongin says. She stretches her arms above her head and groans happily at the ache in her muscles. “Need me to pass on a message?” Yixing lives with Jongdae and a couple of their friends in an apartment down the largest hill on campus. Jongin’s been there once for a lunch study session; she won’t forget the sight of Jongdae in a frilly apron brandishing a wooden spoon and covered in tomato sauce anytime soon.
Yixing nods. “Help me remind her that Luhan’s on a date tonight, so she should grab dinner at the media building if she doesn’t want to get sexiled.”
Jongin sniggers. “She’s gonna complain about hyung and Xiumin-unnie on her radio show again,” she says, typing out the message. “Who’s on tonight? Kyungsoo?”
“She’ll be texting you to whine about the hammer, I’ll bet.” Yixing beckons her over. His laptop is all set up on the small high table at the back of the studio. “She texts you a lot. You guys are really close, huh?”
Not knowing what to say and not exactly comfortable with the arched look he’s giving her, Jongin stuffs her phone back into her bag and jogs over. Her oversized sweater drops down her shoulder and she rucks it back up impatiently as she peers at the screen. A complicated mess stares back at her.
The music comes on with a tap of Yixing’s finger to the trackpad. The first few bars are light, stripped bare of additional instruments, just the piano. It’s bright but melancholy at the same time, then soft drums and the guitar come in, and Jongin feels her eyes drift closed.
“You like it? It’s a rough demo still, but I think it might work well with both our styles,” Yixing says when the track finishes playing. He has his hands shoved in the pockets of his trackpants, but the dimple in his cheek tells Jongin that he’s really proud of his work.
“It’s perfect,” she says, and means it. She can imagine some of the movements already, how they would flow with the music. “I just wanna-”
“Try it out?” Yixing beams. “Okay, okay, let me adjust something towards the end of the second minute, okay? Ten minutes, tops. Don’t push yourself too hard.” He nods at her waist, expression serious.
Jongin gives him a thumbs up and continues going through her stretches methodically. She’s of course mindful of the injury she sustained while overtraining for a competition half a year ago. She can still do most of what she used to be able to do, but in smaller doses. Just no extreme bends or turns or flips or lifts. A twinge of sadness runs through her before she shrugs it away. Jongin needs to focus on her body now to get ready for the upcoming arts showcase.
Which is going to be amazing. She can feel it down to her bones. Her interpretive dance instructor has amde the open house showcase into a project for her students. He’d told them that it would be a collaborative effort with the music department, and had paired Jongin and Yixing together. It’s been awesome so far. The graduate student’s style is different from Jongin’s, sharper, more precise, and she’s learned a lot about angles and isolation from him. Plus, Yixing studies music composition, so she’s been really lucky to have his expertise in not only choosing but also crafting a song especially for them.
“Ready?” Yixing calls. “Let’s see your ideas, Kai-ssi.”
Jongin laughs at the use of her stage name and the bow Yixing gives, takes off her glasses, sets them aside, and waits for the first notes to begin.
-
“I didn’t know you’re a cheerleader.”
Jongdae flops down with her red pompoms and sighs loudly. “I’m sad that you’ve never noticed my spectacular moves during all those soccer matches you attended. Plus, I’ve only been turning up with these bushy things for the last three lessons, teacher Kim.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’ve been helping you too much to notice them,” Jongin retorts, pink lighting her cheeks. “Your radio show suits your loudness. Besides, you look too short to be a cheerleader.”
“Kim Jonginnie!” Surprisingly delighted by her response, Jongdae lunges forward to give Jongin a hug. Given that they are sitting in the bleachers, this topples both of them over onto the slim bench and nearly down the stairs. “You’re so adorable,” Jongdae croons and pats Jongin’s cheeks softly.
Jongin sits back up, scrunching her nose. She’s gotten used to Jongdae’s sudden hug attacks after close to three months of tutoring and general hanging out, but she still has some reservations about being turned into a teddy bear.
A shadow falls over them. “Chenchen, you are weird as fuck,” Yifan drawls. The other cheerleaders nearby sigh very loudly. Too bad Yifan only has eyes for a Gucci sunglasses-wearing soccer player currently pretending to be in a mineral water commercial.
“You’re in love with the Milky Way and want to marry the constellation Orion,” Jongdae replies lazily, flashing him a sunny grin. “You have no leg to stand on.”
“I have two perfectly good legs to stand on, I’m not a flamingo or, like, a snail.”
Jongin raises her hand. “Actually, a snail does have a foot?”
“Whatever, whoever you are. Chenchen’s friend.” A contemptuous frown on his face, Yifan sniffs and walks off, the gaggle of cheerleaders sighing as one once more.
“You’re so cute,” Jongdae says, turning back to beam at Jongin. “So cute.”
Jongin scrunches her nose again and bumps her elbow against Jongdae’s arm. The older girl’s eyes are wide and dark; Jongin swallows along with the bob of Jongdae’s throat, her mouth dry. It takes the shrill scream of the whistle calling the cheerleaders back to practice for them to break their shared gaze. Suddenly warm all over despite the cool wind, Jongin rubs the back of her neck. “I should, ah. I’ll see you?”
Biting her lip, Jongdae nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
“Maybe-maybe you should come see me practise sometime,” Jongin mumbles.
“Yeah. That’d be nice.” Is Jongdae blushing?
Feeling slightly off balance, Jongin forces her lips to curve upwards. “I’ll text you? I’ll text you.”
“You’ll text me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Yifan rolls his eyes and sips pointedly from his tumbler of herbal tea. “You’ll text each other, go for practice, your captain is gonna skin you alive, flirt with your girlfriend another time.”
“We’re not girlfriends! And we weren’t flirting!” exclaims Jongdae.
The outburst stings a little. “Yeah,” Jongin mutters. She fiddles with the cuffs of her sweater. Everyone within hearing distance is staring at them. “We aren’t any of that.”
“We were having a Moment.”
“Wait, what?” Jongin squeaks.
“Kim Jongdae!” The cheerleading captain screeches from the field. “Either you get your bony ass down here or you’re off the team, and we don’t have a big enough team for me to kick you out, so get down here now!”
Both of them ignore her.
“I’ll, uhm, go distract her.”
“I like you,” Jongdae says bluntly, as Yifan stalks over awkwardly to the rest of the cheerleaders. “I think you were right. We did share a Moment. And I want to flirt with you some more.”
Jongin squirms. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the cheerleaders visibly melt as Yifan flaps his yaoi hands at them. She blinks rapidly, looking back at Jongdae. “I think I want that too. The Moment. And the flirting.”
“The girlfriend bit too?” The kitten smile is crooked but still perfect.
Jongin’s heart brightens at the knowledge that she can, in the near future, kiss those curled up lips. “Buy me chicken first, unnie, and we’ll see.”
“Squawk squawk,” Jongdae says. “That’s a ‘yes’ in chicken, by the way.”
-
It’s two weeks to their university’s open house weekend and to their arts showcase. Jongin’s long memorized her routine, but her nerves get the better of her during one of their final practices, and she almost strains her waist.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” she babbles as Yixing rushes to check on her. They’re both covered in a sheen of perspiration. Jongin feels dirty and tired and useless as Yixing gently maneuvers her to sit on the floor, making sure that there’s no muscle sprain.
“It’s okay, Jonginnie,” he says, sitting down next to her. “I know you know what to do, you know you know what to do, it’ll be fine, don’t worry.” His smile is encouraging, which is lovely and kind but also makes Jongin start to tear. “Aw, it’s okay, Jongin-ah.”
“Hey hey, Nini, I’m sorry I’m late-oh!” Jongdae stutters to a halt just outside the open door of the dance studio. “Xing-ge, is she okay?”
“She’s okay, right Jongin?”
Jongin sniffles and looks up to see Jongdae cautiously approaching the two of them. “I’m just a little bit stressed. I messed up the routine.”
The older girl frowns and curls up next to her as Yixing moves away. “You’ll do better next time, Jonginnie, don’t cry.” Her small hands reach out to hold Jongin’s left one, the silver rings she has on cool against Jongin’s skin. “C’mon, smile for me?”
Her smile, though tinged with worry, is adorable as per usual, and Jongin finds herself smiling back.
“There you go,” Jongdae whispers, bringing her sleeve up to dry Jongin’s tears.
It’s then that Jongin realises that Jongdae’s in her cheerleading outfit. “You’ve practice today?”
“Yeah, kind of an emergency one, so I can’t stay for much longer. One of the girls at the base of our pyramid has got the flu, so we need to practise our new formation for the game next week.” By the look on Jongdae’s face, she’s finally feeling how cold the studio floor is on bare skin. “Yah, how do you guys dance barefoot on this block of ice?”
Yixing laughs from where he’s standing next to his laptop. “Dancing is a form of exercise, you know, Chenchen.”
“I know that,” Jongdae replies, pouting. “But it doesn’t change the fact that this room is a fridge, you’re gonna let my Nini catch a cold, Xing-ge.”
Warmth rushes into Jongin’s face at Jongdae’s words. Not for the first time, she’s glad that her tanned skin hides most of her blush. “It’s really okay, unnie, after a while you don’t feel it. And we always make sure to dry our sweat with towels. You should probably stand up though, or your thighs will stick to the floor.”
Jongdae yelps, leaping to her socked feet. “That’s not true.”
“And yet,” Yixing says dryly. “Will you be there at the showcase?”
“Of course. In fact, I’m going to be her personal cheerleader,” she announces, looking down at Jongin. “It’ll be great. I can do up a support board and everything. Kim Jongin, my tiny dancer. Or just Kai. Or something other than ‘tiny’ because I’m tiny and you’re unfairly tall.”
Jongin just smiles weakly up at her and nods because otherwise she’d be staring at Jongdae’s long pale legs with her mouth wide open. “That’s very nice of you, unnie.”
“And what about me?” Yixing pouts, folding his arms. “Don’t I get any support from my favourite meimei?”
Grinning mischievously, Jongdae goes into a short run and skids past him. “Buy me lunch and I’ll consider it, gege! Bye Jonginnie, see you later!”
Jongin watches her tug on her shoes and scramble off down the corridor, chuckling at the exasperated look on Yixing’s face.
“She’s so weird,” he grumbles. Then he rolls his eyes and looks back at her, his expression softening. “You ready to try again?”
“Yup,” she says, getting to her feet. She thinks about Jongdae’s smile, the way her whole face lifts into brightness. The way she called Jongin hers like it was no big deal. “I’m ready.”
The music starts to play.
-
“Stop, wait a minute.” Jongdae scrambles out of Jongin’s arms and rushes over to her bag in the corner. Inexplicably, she starts singing Uptown Funk, swaying her body to the beat.
Jongin stays where she is, bewildered and kneeling on the bed as Jongdae rifles through her things. “Uh, is everything okay?” Not that she dislikes the show, but she chased Taemin out of the flat for a reason; her girlfriend had promised to scream louder than she had done during Jongin and Yixing’s showcase.
“Yeah, ah ha!” The cheerleader brandishes a small tube with a triumphant grin on her face. “We’re in business. Sorry to keep you waiting, Kai-ssi, I just need to do something…” She unscrews the cap and twists the bottom.
It’s a tube of lip balm.
Jongin watches in silent fascination as Jongdae carefully applies the chapstick all over her lips. She smacks them once, twice, and then shrugs before applying another layer. It lends a slightly reddish tint to Jongdae’s thin kitten lips, and the slow sensual slide of the chapstick, along with Jongdae’s half-lidded eyes, makes Jongin’s knees collapse. She crosses her legs and squirms a little, her skirt fluttering around her thighs.
“Should I-should I do that too?” Jongin asks, biting down on her bottom lip. Her lips feel dry, and she suddenly worries that they’ll feel rough and chapped against Jongdae’s smooth ones.
Jongdae caps the lip balm and gives her an incredulous look. “What? No!” She dumps the tube back into her bag and leaps, catlike, right back onto the bed. Jongin can’t catch much of the stream of words Jongdae’s muttering under her breath, but she hears something like are you kidding me and gonna kiss those lips until they’re more swollen than they are now.
Jongin shuts her eyes but she can’t help smiling. The tip of a finger pokes at her dimple, and Jongin leans into the touch, doesn’t care that her glasses make it awkward to rub her cheek against Jongdae’s small palm. Slowly, Jongin presses kisses into the soft skin. At the sound of a whine, she opens her eyes and runs her tongue over the pads of Jongdae’s fingers. Jongin blinks lazily up at the other girl and lets those trembling digits rest on her pout.
“You’re a tease,” complains Jongdae. Her ears are pink and her mouth is bitten red. “You look like a nerd and you act like a puppy but you’re such a fucking tease, it’s not fair.”
Jongin laughs, and tugs her girlfriend forward until the slighter girl squeaks and they fall back against the pillows. “You said something about kissing?”
“I’ll show you kissing,” Jongdae drawls. “But first, let’s practice safe sex and use protection.”
“What?”
Primly and purposefully, Jongdae takes off Jongin’s glasses, folds them, and sets them on the bedside table. Then she bends down again and licks a stripe up Jongin’s neck.
The wet sensation makes Jongin wriggle in protest, but Jongdae manages to hold her down despite her petite size. Then Jongdae nips her ear, and Jongin settles down, moaning at the pain-pleasure shooting through her as her girlfriend bites and sucks at the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder. Her eyes fall shut again, and she whimpers as a thumb brushes against her left nipple. Even over her bra and shirt, the touch feels so good, sending a coil of heat from the point in her chest down to her belly.
“Jongdae-yah,” she gasps as the other does it again, rougher this time. “Chen, please.”
Jongdae hums. She straddles Jongin’s hips, her weight warm. “You should call me Chen in bed,” she says, looking down at Jongin with shuttered eyes. “It sounds nice. Plus, you get to save your energy to scream my name for when I finally fuck you.”
Jongin snorts. “By cutting down one syllable?” It’s true that Chen sounds better than Jongdae, much more breathy and easier to burst out in the heat of pleasure, but Jongdae’s cockiness makes her laugh.
“Every bit counts, Kai-ssi,” Jongdae says, her voice pitched low. She presses two fingers against the hickey on Jongin’s neck. “Congratulations on your showcase.”
Unable to help herself, the younger girl shivers and squirms against the pillow. “It wasn’t my showcase, Yixing did most of the work. Anyway, you-you still haven’t kissed me yet. All talk and no play, huh, Chengzi.”
“Where did you learn that?” Jongdae narrows her gaze. “I bet it was Zitao, right? That little shit. Or was it Luhan? He’s always drawing me as an orange in his webtoons.”
“Orange Jongdae,” sings out Jongin, giggling as the five Hangeul syllables make Jongdae let out a shriek of frustration. “Orange chengzi, orange Chenchen!”
“Yah, Kim Jongin!”
Jongin yells as Jongdae veritably falls on her, and tries to scuttle away to the other end of the bed. But as Jongdae’s thighs are still around her hips, this plan only half-works, with her girlfriend face-planting into the mattress.
“Ow.”
“How could that be painful, it’s made of cotton and cloth.”
“It’s not my face that’s hurt, it’s my heart, Kim Kai. I can’t believe that my own girlfriend would betray me like this. I’m hurt, I am so hurt. Hurt down to my bones and my heart and my blood. Or something.”
Jongin rolls her eyes and lets Jongdae cuddle up to her. The cheerleader is lying partially on Jongin, one lean leg thrown over Jongin’s thighs. The two of them stay like that for a bit, Jongdae nuzzling at the hickey again but thankfully not bruising it even further.
“Jonginnie?”
“Hm?” She turns her head just in time for the kiss. It’s tame, a gentle press of Jongdae’s lips to hers. Jongin can taste a hint of the cherry lip balm. “That’s it?”
Jongdae sighs. “Of course not. That’s like the preview. That’s me being all romantic and shit, but okay, we can do a proper kiss kiss.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, simply surges forward.
This time it’s slick and hot. It’s Jongdae putting her sharp white teeth to use again, nipping and pulling at Jongin’s bottom lip. It’s Jongin struggling to breathe as Jongdae presses deeper, harder kisses in quick succession to her mouth. It’s Jongdae’s right hand cupping Jongin’s head while her left runs down Jongin’s body to cup her breast through the cumbersome layer of clothes.
“Ch-Chen,” Jongdae manages to stutter out, the name disintegrating into a long moan as Jongdae licks, bites, sucks down from her ruined mouth down to her neck, intent to leave yet another mark. “Mmm, Chen, please.”
She doesn’t know exactly what she’s begging for. More kissing, more touching, more-just more of Chen, more of Jongdae. Jongdae doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. A hickey blooms on the right side of Jongin’s neck, matching the one on the left. Both her thumbs circle Jongin’s nipples, the gentle pressure increasing bit by bit until she’s arching into the touch. It takes a few minutes for Jongin to realize that she’s mewling, tiny squeaks and high-pitched moans escaping her throat as Jongdae continues marking up her skin. She imagines the sight of her body in the morning, pictures small bruises littered around her throat, dark purples standing out despite the brown of her skin. Thinks about how they’d hurt so good every time someone brushes against them.
“Is this okay?” Jongdae’s voice breaks into her haze of pleasure, and Jongin opens her eyes blearily to see her girlfriend holding up the corner of her skirt. “If it’s too fast, we can just keep kissing. Or I could keep kissing you, you haven’t kissed me yet, lazy brat.”
Jongin lets out a breathless giggle. She purses her lips, wincing at how swollen they are, and reaches up to kiss Jongdae shyly on the nose. “Yes, it’s okay. And I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
She watches the bob of Jongdae’s throat as she swallows and slides her palm up Jongin’s thigh, up to the damp spot at the front of her underwear. Jongdae’s touch is tentative; there’s not enough pressure, so Jongin cants her hips forward and up, shamelessly seeking more.
“Ungh, Jongdae, Chen, please,” groans Jongin, until Jongdae swallows all of her words and punctured moans with a kiss. Sparks seem to burst in the black of her vision as Jongdae’s thumb rubs little circles on her clit.
When Jongdae pulls away, her eyes are dark. “Lie back and think of Gyeonggi-do.”
Confused and slightly annoyed by the disruption, Jongin props herself up on her elbows. “Why? What’s in Gyeonggi-do?”
Jongdae’s teeth flash. She shifts further down the bed, flipping Jongin’s skirt up and away from her panties. “Me,” she purrs, and blows cool air over the thin cotton.
-
Later, much later, like end of the semester later, Jongin sits in the back of Professor Xu’s office as Jongdae gives her report on whatever she’s been working on with the Prof. To be honest, Jongin’s not paying attention to the presentation. Whenever the small group of seniors nods along to Jongdae’s enthusiastic explanation of her project proposal, she belatedly bobs her head too.
It’s not easy focusing when Jongdae’s wearing one of her sweaters and skinny jeans. Firstly, the sweater is Jongin’s. That makes Jongin all warm inside. Secondly, the sweater is about a size too large for Jongin, and so it practically hangs down to Jongdae’s knobbly knees. Thirdly, those skinny jeans are really, really skinny. Fourthly, Jongdae’s wearing glasses. Jongin doesn’t even know that Jongdae has glasses. But they are there. On Jongdae’s face. Highlighting how cute she is. And finally, her hair has grown out of the frizzy perm she’d gotten just before the exam period. It’s soft and brown and wavy.
Jongin finds herself nearly drooling at the memory of running her fingers through those messy locks, hearing Jongdae moan at the rough tugs as she pulls her closer-
“Solid work, Miss Kim,” Professor Xu says, and Jongin swallows, blinking up at the front of the room. “Both of you.”
Jongin tries not to look like she’s been fantasizing about her girlfriend and smiles back. A moment more, her lap is full of a bouncy Jongdae chatting away nineteen to a dozen. She stares up at her, again not listening to the words coming rapidly out of that plush mouth, only snapping to when Professor Xu coughs to let them know they’re the only ones left in his office.
“Much as I enjoy your company, I don’t want to see either of you again until I have to,” he grouses.
“You adore us, Prof,” Jongdae says cheekily, untangling herself from Jongin’s arms. She pulls Jongin up and out of the room.
Professor Xu snorts. “Kim Jongin-ssi, maybe you could consider joining us for lab meetings next semester,” he says. “If you can keep awake, that is. As your professor, might I suggest that you get enough sleep over the vacation?” With a pointed look at Jongin’s dark eyebags, he shuts his door.
“Sadly, I don’t plan on letting you sleep much,” Jongdae murmurs.
“By snoring next to me?” For such a small creature, Jongdae can truly be quite loud. It’s endearing.
Her girlfriend sniffs. “I was going to eat you out to celebrate how awesome I was in there, but fine, Kim Kai, be that way.”
Laughing, Jongin kisses the shorter girl on her pout. “Let’s go home,” she says, still a little shy at holding Jongdae’s smaller hand in hers. “Before you scandalize more professors.”
The professor in question harrumphs and sticks her head back into her office, slamming her door closed.
Hand in hand, they giggle as they move out of the staff building and into the awaiting sunshine.
Title: analysis of variance
Pairing: Chen/Kai
Rating: R
Warnings: making out, heavy petting, hints of oral sex
Word count: 5555
Summary: Sleepy Kim Jongin is great at statistics and not so great at keeping herself awake during class. She is assigned as a tutor to kittenish cheerleader Kim Jongdae. There is flirting, dancing, and lots of mutual smiling, but not a lot of statistics being done.
Author’s note: Dear prompter, thank you for a great prompt! I wish this could’ve been longer because I do have many headcanons but sadly… Anyway, I hope you like the smuttish scene; it’s my favourite out of the whole fic (which is why it’s almost half the word count) ;3
A flash of gold in the corner of Jongin’s eye makes her jump. She turns out of her pirouette and lands on the soles of her feet ungainly, feeling very much like a swan being transformed back into an ugly duckling. She grasps the bars and groans. Her feet ache. She looks up. Professor Xu stares back at her in the mirror.
Jongin yelps.
“Miss Kim,” Professor Xu says, his tired expression making his voice sound even drier. “Are you awake, Miss Kim, or are you still appreciating first-hand the brilliant inanity of dreams?”
The words make sense but don’t at the same time, so Jongin frowns and wonders why there are scribbles on the mirrors. Yixing is going to make her scrub the mirrors when it isn’t even her fault, damn it. She feels a pinching sensation in her left arm, goes to scratch it, and wakes up from a brutal kick to her shin.
“Oh Sehun!” she hisses, eyes wrenched open, and freezes as the whole class snickers around her. Jongin lowers herself back into her seat and smiles up sheepishly at Professor Xu. “Sorry, Prof.”
The statistics professor just sighs. “Stay back after the tutorial, Miss Kim.”
Jongin flushes pink as Sehun continues to poke her in the arm. She turns her attention back to her computer screen, ignoring her tablemate’s nonsense as she quickly runs the few tests that some poor bumbling soul is struggling to demonstrate in front of the class and saves the SPSS file. “Stop it, I’m awake now,” she mutters to Sehun after a particularly hard jab.
“I know, star pupil, love of Prof’s life,” Sehun says, grinning. “Do whatever you did again, I didn’t see all the steps.”
“No,” Jongin grouses, laying her head back down on her folded arms. Professor Xu isn’t looking in their direction anymore, too busy guiding everyone through the steps of a non-parametric test that they learned (albeit briefly) last semester. “Pay attention to Prof Xu and you’ll get it.”
Sehun sniffs. “You suck.” But she shuts up and starts frantically copying whatever their professor is scribbling on the whiteboard anyway.
Jongin huffs into her sweater. She’s not going to fall asleep again. Prof is really nice to her because she gets stats like no one else, but he will assign detention to Jongin if he needs to. And Jongin likes Prof Xu, especially since he’s currently battling admin to get Jongin into his Level 4 stats seminar before the add/drop period ends. A second-year student in Level 4, where everyone else in her cohort is still stuck on their requisite Level 2 course. Even Sehun’s giving up stats after this particular Level 3 module. Jongin’s good. She’s good at statistics even if she’s shit at the writing part of psychology, and she likes being good at something practical, as what her dad would say. She’s hungry for more math, more advanced study designs to learn to analyze, because that’s what studying people is like, right? Complicated, inclusive of multiple factors at different levels?
“Tell me you’re not daydreaming about something stupid like linear regression. Again,” Sehun says when the class finally wraps up and everyone starts scrambling to save their files.
“No. I was thinking about factor analysis, actually.”
“You’re so weird, Kim Jongin.”
“Same to you, Sehunnie,” she replies sweetly, leaning over to mess up her friend’s newly dyed platinum locks. “See you later at lunch?”
“Yeah, yeah, get on with your date with Prof Xu, you nerd.” Sehun waves goodbye as she slips out of the door, short plaid skirt flapping around her thighs.
Jongin grabs her things and moves to the front. She waits patiently as a couple of other students finish asking their questions, and smiles at a senior that she recognizes vaguely from another elective. Then it’s her turn, and she tries to look a little more contrite as Professor Xu turns to her.
“Ah, Miss Kim, our sleeping prodigy,” the statistics professor says. He takes off his gold-rimmed spectacles and cleans the lenses. “I’ve spoken to the department, and I have good news for you, Miss Kim.” He winces at her sharp squeal. “You’ll be joining our ANOVA class on Tuesday, but under one condition.”
Jongin muffles any future outbursts of excitement by stuffing the end of her sleeve into her mouth. “What condition?” she mumbles through the cloth.
Prof Xu eyes her damp sleeve for a moment, and then shakes his head. “I have a student under me as an RA, and she’s very good, very creative and passionate about her work. But her statistics, they need help. I was hoping that you would agree to be her tutor, give her a little bit of a refresher on running tests on SPSS, that kind of thing.”
“I can do that,” Jongin says, spitting out her sleeve and adjusting her glasses. “Thank you so much, Prof, I promise I won’t fall asleep in class again.”
“It’s enough for you to try, Miss Kim,” he replies, picking up his laptop. “I will contact you with the details via email, latest by this afternoon. Have a good day, Jongin, and I’ll see you on Tuesday, nine o’clock sharp, seminar room two, yes?”
-
Two days later finds Jongin sitting in the bleachers on a Saturday morning, nursing a paper cup full of hot chocolate. Her glasses are all fogged up from the cold and her sneakers feel suspiciously damp, but she doesn’t move from her spot. The seats around her are empty save for a few equally bleary-eyed students clasping various hot drinks. Jongin takes a sip of hers and peers across the field, trying to spot her friends.
“Why are we here?” Taemin whines, appearing out of nowhere with a bag full of Subway sandwiches. “I thought we said we’d never come to support them again, why are we here?”
“You don’t have to be here, you know.” Jongin grabs the bag of food and starts rifling through it, ignoring her best friend’s indignant yell. “You don’t even hang out with most of them.”
“Yes, but I hang out with you, sweet darling Jonginnie.”
In retaliation, she throws the plastic bag at Taemin, grinning when the purple-haired boy screeches and nearly drops his sandwich.
“Evil little Jonginnie,” Taemin says, his eyes narrowed. “Anyway, who’re we watching on this shitty morning full of rain? Anyone interesting?”
Jongin chomps on one end of her sandwich. “Jonghyun’s over there, go salivate over him. He’s probably gonna be taking off his shirt when the rain properly starts.”
Taemin swipes at her with his scarf.
“Xiumin-unnie’s by the goal, I think, with Luhan. Zitao’s late, but what’s new.”
“Huang Zitao has so many watches, the rich asshole, it’s amazing how he’s never on time.”
Jongin and Taemin turn to look at the girl sitting behind them. She’s in a red tracksuit that looks a size too large for her, a scarf tied tightly around her neck. Her long brown hair is tied into a ponytail and tucked into a red snapback positioned at a slightly jaunty angle. She’s rubbing her palms together-her hands are tiny and cute. Her whole being is tiny and cute, from her ears to her mouth.
“-Jongdae, but the guys call me Chen, because you know, it’s ‘morning’ in Mandarin and ‘dae’ sounds like ‘day’ in English, and-hey, your drink!” A firm hand grabs Jongin’s shoulder in time to save the cup of hot chocolate from tumbling down onto the field.
“Thanks,” Jongin mutters, her cheeks warm.
Jongdae smiles. Her lips curl up at the corners and her eyes wrinkle, making her look like a kitten. Jongin inexplicably wants to pet her. “No problem.”
“Jongin. Kim Jongin, and this is Lee Taemin.”
“I know, he introduced himself while you were, uh, spacing out,” Jongdae says, laughing. “Nice to meet you, Kim Jongin. Us Kims should stick together. Hey, you know Xiumin-unnie?”
Not liking the way Taemin’s snickering into his meatball marinara, Jongin nods. “She’s my block warden, she’s very nice.”
“Cool, cool. Hey, look, they’re warming up!” Jongin watches as Jongdae takes out a huge signboard out of her bag and lifts it up. It’s a rectangle piece of black plastic about as wide as Jongdae’s arm span, with large neon lettering pasted all over. And it’s laminated. “Because of the rain, you know, gotta be prepared.” Jongdae winks at her, and then starts yelling at a volume that belies her small stature, “Umin-unnie, go go go! Beat those boys!”
On the field, the guys start booing good-naturedly. Jongdae doesn’t stop, just keeps shouting Xiumin-unnie’s name to Jongin’s amazement.
“She’s cute,” Taemin murmurs into her ear.
“She’s weird,” Jongin whispers back.
-
From: Chen
heeeeeeeeey
To: Chen
hey 2 u 2
From: Chen
omg I should tutor you in post-2000 textspeak
anyway I have a thing tomorrow so we need to reschedule
sorry ><
could we meet right after that? say 7.30?
To: Chen
ok
:)
From: Chen
I’ll treat you to dinner~
OH YAY
To: Chen
u kno i like chicken ^^
From: Chen
one day the cock joke will happen im js
but I’m not crass so… see you tomorrow
squawk squawk
Smiling at her phone, Jongin types out a brief response. It’s been about a month and a half since she walked into a tutorial room to find that Kim Jongdae in need of a statistics tutor. It’s been an interesting time, to say the least, Jongin quickly finding out that Jongdae, Chen for short, really, really loathes statistics and has a ridiculous fear of the SPSS software.
“Chengzi?” Yixing asks from across the dance studio.
“Yeah,” Jongin says. She stretches her arms above her head and groans happily at the ache in her muscles. “Need me to pass on a message?” Yixing lives with Jongdae and a couple of their friends in an apartment down the largest hill on campus. Jongin’s been there once for a lunch study session; she won’t forget the sight of Jongdae in a frilly apron brandishing a wooden spoon and covered in tomato sauce anytime soon.
Yixing nods. “Help me remind her that Luhan’s on a date tonight, so she should grab dinner at the media building if she doesn’t want to get sexiled.”
Jongin sniggers. “She’s gonna complain about hyung and Xiumin-unnie on her radio show again,” she says, typing out the message. “Who’s on tonight? Kyungsoo?”
“She’ll be texting you to whine about the hammer, I’ll bet.” Yixing beckons her over. His laptop is all set up on the small high table at the back of the studio. “She texts you a lot. You guys are really close, huh?”
Not knowing what to say and not exactly comfortable with the arched look he’s giving her, Jongin stuffs her phone back into her bag and jogs over. Her oversized sweater drops down her shoulder and she rucks it back up impatiently as she peers at the screen. A complicated mess stares back at her.
The music comes on with a tap of Yixing’s finger to the trackpad. The first few bars are light, stripped bare of additional instruments, just the piano. It’s bright but melancholy at the same time, then soft drums and the guitar come in, and Jongin feels her eyes drift closed.
“You like it? It’s a rough demo still, but I think it might work well with both our styles,” Yixing says when the track finishes playing. He has his hands shoved in the pockets of his trackpants, but the dimple in his cheek tells Jongin that he’s really proud of his work.
“It’s perfect,” she says, and means it. She can imagine some of the movements already, how they would flow with the music. “I just wanna-”
“Try it out?” Yixing beams. “Okay, okay, let me adjust something towards the end of the second minute, okay? Ten minutes, tops. Don’t push yourself too hard.” He nods at her waist, expression serious.
Jongin gives him a thumbs up and continues going through her stretches methodically. She’s of course mindful of the injury she sustained while overtraining for a competition half a year ago. She can still do most of what she used to be able to do, but in smaller doses. Just no extreme bends or turns or flips or lifts. A twinge of sadness runs through her before she shrugs it away. Jongin needs to focus on her body now to get ready for the upcoming arts showcase.
Which is going to be amazing. She can feel it down to her bones. Her interpretive dance instructor has amde the open house showcase into a project for her students. He’d told them that it would be a collaborative effort with the music department, and had paired Jongin and Yixing together. It’s been awesome so far. The graduate student’s style is different from Jongin’s, sharper, more precise, and she’s learned a lot about angles and isolation from him. Plus, Yixing studies music composition, so she’s been really lucky to have his expertise in not only choosing but also crafting a song especially for them.
“Ready?” Yixing calls. “Let’s see your ideas, Kai-ssi.”
Jongin laughs at the use of her stage name and the bow Yixing gives, takes off her glasses, sets them aside, and waits for the first notes to begin.
-
“I didn’t know you’re a cheerleader.”
Jongdae flops down with her red pompoms and sighs loudly. “I’m sad that you’ve never noticed my spectacular moves during all those soccer matches you attended. Plus, I’ve only been turning up with these bushy things for the last three lessons, teacher Kim.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’ve been helping you too much to notice them,” Jongin retorts, pink lighting her cheeks. “Your radio show suits your loudness. Besides, you look too short to be a cheerleader.”
“Kim Jonginnie!” Surprisingly delighted by her response, Jongdae lunges forward to give Jongin a hug. Given that they are sitting in the bleachers, this topples both of them over onto the slim bench and nearly down the stairs. “You’re so adorable,” Jongdae croons and pats Jongin’s cheeks softly.
Jongin sits back up, scrunching her nose. She’s gotten used to Jongdae’s sudden hug attacks after close to three months of tutoring and general hanging out, but she still has some reservations about being turned into a teddy bear.
A shadow falls over them. “Chenchen, you are weird as fuck,” Yifan drawls. The other cheerleaders nearby sigh very loudly. Too bad Yifan only has eyes for a Gucci sunglasses-wearing soccer player currently pretending to be in a mineral water commercial.
“You’re in love with the Milky Way and want to marry the constellation Orion,” Jongdae replies lazily, flashing him a sunny grin. “You have no leg to stand on.”
“I have two perfectly good legs to stand on, I’m not a flamingo or, like, a snail.”
Jongin raises her hand. “Actually, a snail does have a foot?”
“Whatever, whoever you are. Chenchen’s friend.” A contemptuous frown on his face, Yifan sniffs and walks off, the gaggle of cheerleaders sighing as one once more.
“You’re so cute,” Jongdae says, turning back to beam at Jongin. “So cute.”
Jongin scrunches her nose again and bumps her elbow against Jongdae’s arm. The older girl’s eyes are wide and dark; Jongin swallows along with the bob of Jongdae’s throat, her mouth dry. It takes the shrill scream of the whistle calling the cheerleaders back to practice for them to break their shared gaze. Suddenly warm all over despite the cool wind, Jongin rubs the back of her neck. “I should, ah. I’ll see you?”
Biting her lip, Jongdae nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
“Maybe-maybe you should come see me practise sometime,” Jongin mumbles.
“Yeah. That’d be nice.” Is Jongdae blushing?
Feeling slightly off balance, Jongin forces her lips to curve upwards. “I’ll text you? I’ll text you.”
“You’ll text me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Yifan rolls his eyes and sips pointedly from his tumbler of herbal tea. “You’ll text each other, go for practice, your captain is gonna skin you alive, flirt with your girlfriend another time.”
“We’re not girlfriends! And we weren’t flirting!” exclaims Jongdae.
The outburst stings a little. “Yeah,” Jongin mutters. She fiddles with the cuffs of her sweater. Everyone within hearing distance is staring at them. “We aren’t any of that.”
“We were having a Moment.”
“Wait, what?” Jongin squeaks.
“Kim Jongdae!” The cheerleading captain screeches from the field. “Either you get your bony ass down here or you’re off the team, and we don’t have a big enough team for me to kick you out, so get down here now!”
Both of them ignore her.
“I’ll, uhm, go distract her.”
“I like you,” Jongdae says bluntly, as Yifan stalks over awkwardly to the rest of the cheerleaders. “I think you were right. We did share a Moment. And I want to flirt with you some more.”
Jongin squirms. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the cheerleaders visibly melt as Yifan flaps his yaoi hands at them. She blinks rapidly, looking back at Jongdae. “I think I want that too. The Moment. And the flirting.”
“The girlfriend bit too?” The kitten smile is crooked but still perfect.
Jongin’s heart brightens at the knowledge that she can, in the near future, kiss those curled up lips. “Buy me chicken first, unnie, and we’ll see.”
“Squawk squawk,” Jongdae says. “That’s a ‘yes’ in chicken, by the way.”
-
It’s two weeks to their university’s open house weekend and to their arts showcase. Jongin’s long memorized her routine, but her nerves get the better of her during one of their final practices, and she almost strains her waist.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” she babbles as Yixing rushes to check on her. They’re both covered in a sheen of perspiration. Jongin feels dirty and tired and useless as Yixing gently maneuvers her to sit on the floor, making sure that there’s no muscle sprain.
“It’s okay, Jonginnie,” he says, sitting down next to her. “I know you know what to do, you know you know what to do, it’ll be fine, don’t worry.” His smile is encouraging, which is lovely and kind but also makes Jongin start to tear. “Aw, it’s okay, Jongin-ah.”
“Hey hey, Nini, I’m sorry I’m late-oh!” Jongdae stutters to a halt just outside the open door of the dance studio. “Xing-ge, is she okay?”
“She’s okay, right Jongin?”
Jongin sniffles and looks up to see Jongdae cautiously approaching the two of them. “I’m just a little bit stressed. I messed up the routine.”
The older girl frowns and curls up next to her as Yixing moves away. “You’ll do better next time, Jonginnie, don’t cry.” Her small hands reach out to hold Jongin’s left one, the silver rings she has on cool against Jongin’s skin. “C’mon, smile for me?”
Her smile, though tinged with worry, is adorable as per usual, and Jongin finds herself smiling back.
“There you go,” Jongdae whispers, bringing her sleeve up to dry Jongin’s tears.
It’s then that Jongin realises that Jongdae’s in her cheerleading outfit. “You’ve practice today?”
“Yeah, kind of an emergency one, so I can’t stay for much longer. One of the girls at the base of our pyramid has got the flu, so we need to practise our new formation for the game next week.” By the look on Jongdae’s face, she’s finally feeling how cold the studio floor is on bare skin. “Yah, how do you guys dance barefoot on this block of ice?”
Yixing laughs from where he’s standing next to his laptop. “Dancing is a form of exercise, you know, Chenchen.”
“I know that,” Jongdae replies, pouting. “But it doesn’t change the fact that this room is a fridge, you’re gonna let my Nini catch a cold, Xing-ge.”
Warmth rushes into Jongin’s face at Jongdae’s words. Not for the first time, she’s glad that her tanned skin hides most of her blush. “It’s really okay, unnie, after a while you don’t feel it. And we always make sure to dry our sweat with towels. You should probably stand up though, or your thighs will stick to the floor.”
Jongdae yelps, leaping to her socked feet. “That’s not true.”
“And yet,” Yixing says dryly. “Will you be there at the showcase?”
“Of course. In fact, I’m going to be her personal cheerleader,” she announces, looking down at Jongin. “It’ll be great. I can do up a support board and everything. Kim Jongin, my tiny dancer. Or just Kai. Or something other than ‘tiny’ because I’m tiny and you’re unfairly tall.”
Jongin just smiles weakly up at her and nods because otherwise she’d be staring at Jongdae’s long pale legs with her mouth wide open. “That’s very nice of you, unnie.”
“And what about me?” Yixing pouts, folding his arms. “Don’t I get any support from my favourite meimei?”
Grinning mischievously, Jongdae goes into a short run and skids past him. “Buy me lunch and I’ll consider it, gege! Bye Jonginnie, see you later!”
Jongin watches her tug on her shoes and scramble off down the corridor, chuckling at the exasperated look on Yixing’s face.
“She’s so weird,” he grumbles. Then he rolls his eyes and looks back at her, his expression softening. “You ready to try again?”
“Yup,” she says, getting to her feet. She thinks about Jongdae’s smile, the way her whole face lifts into brightness. The way she called Jongin hers like it was no big deal. “I’m ready.”
The music starts to play.
-
“Stop, wait a minute.” Jongdae scrambles out of Jongin’s arms and rushes over to her bag in the corner. Inexplicably, she starts singing Uptown Funk, swaying her body to the beat.
Jongin stays where she is, bewildered and kneeling on the bed as Jongdae rifles through her things. “Uh, is everything okay?” Not that she dislikes the show, but she chased Taemin out of the flat for a reason; her girlfriend had promised to scream louder than she had done during Jongin and Yixing’s showcase.
“Yeah, ah ha!” The cheerleader brandishes a small tube with a triumphant grin on her face. “We’re in business. Sorry to keep you waiting, Kai-ssi, I just need to do something…” She unscrews the cap and twists the bottom.
It’s a tube of lip balm.
Jongin watches in silent fascination as Jongdae carefully applies the chapstick all over her lips. She smacks them once, twice, and then shrugs before applying another layer. It lends a slightly reddish tint to Jongdae’s thin kitten lips, and the slow sensual slide of the chapstick, along with Jongdae’s half-lidded eyes, makes Jongin’s knees collapse. She crosses her legs and squirms a little, her skirt fluttering around her thighs.
“Should I-should I do that too?” Jongin asks, biting down on her bottom lip. Her lips feel dry, and she suddenly worries that they’ll feel rough and chapped against Jongdae’s smooth ones.
Jongdae caps the lip balm and gives her an incredulous look. “What? No!” She dumps the tube back into her bag and leaps, catlike, right back onto the bed. Jongin can’t catch much of the stream of words Jongdae’s muttering under her breath, but she hears something like are you kidding me and gonna kiss those lips until they’re more swollen than they are now.
Jongin shuts her eyes but she can’t help smiling. The tip of a finger pokes at her dimple, and Jongin leans into the touch, doesn’t care that her glasses make it awkward to rub her cheek against Jongdae’s small palm. Slowly, Jongin presses kisses into the soft skin. At the sound of a whine, she opens her eyes and runs her tongue over the pads of Jongdae’s fingers. Jongin blinks lazily up at the other girl and lets those trembling digits rest on her pout.
“You’re a tease,” complains Jongdae. Her ears are pink and her mouth is bitten red. “You look like a nerd and you act like a puppy but you’re such a fucking tease, it’s not fair.”
Jongin laughs, and tugs her girlfriend forward until the slighter girl squeaks and they fall back against the pillows. “You said something about kissing?”
“I’ll show you kissing,” Jongdae drawls. “But first, let’s practice safe sex and use protection.”
“What?”
Primly and purposefully, Jongdae takes off Jongin’s glasses, folds them, and sets them on the bedside table. Then she bends down again and licks a stripe up Jongin’s neck.
The wet sensation makes Jongin wriggle in protest, but Jongdae manages to hold her down despite her petite size. Then Jongdae nips her ear, and Jongin settles down, moaning at the pain-pleasure shooting through her as her girlfriend bites and sucks at the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder. Her eyes fall shut again, and she whimpers as a thumb brushes against her left nipple. Even over her bra and shirt, the touch feels so good, sending a coil of heat from the point in her chest down to her belly.
“Jongdae-yah,” she gasps as the other does it again, rougher this time. “Chen, please.”
Jongdae hums. She straddles Jongin’s hips, her weight warm. “You should call me Chen in bed,” she says, looking down at Jongin with shuttered eyes. “It sounds nice. Plus, you get to save your energy to scream my name for when I finally fuck you.”
Jongin snorts. “By cutting down one syllable?” It’s true that Chen sounds better than Jongdae, much more breathy and easier to burst out in the heat of pleasure, but Jongdae’s cockiness makes her laugh.
“Every bit counts, Kai-ssi,” Jongdae says, her voice pitched low. She presses two fingers against the hickey on Jongin’s neck. “Congratulations on your showcase.”
Unable to help herself, the younger girl shivers and squirms against the pillow. “It wasn’t my showcase, Yixing did most of the work. Anyway, you-you still haven’t kissed me yet. All talk and no play, huh, Chengzi.”
“Where did you learn that?” Jongdae narrows her gaze. “I bet it was Zitao, right? That little shit. Or was it Luhan? He’s always drawing me as an orange in his webtoons.”
“Orange Jongdae,” sings out Jongin, giggling as the five Hangeul syllables make Jongdae let out a shriek of frustration. “Orange chengzi, orange Chenchen!”
“Yah, Kim Jongin!”
Jongin yells as Jongdae veritably falls on her, and tries to scuttle away to the other end of the bed. But as Jongdae’s thighs are still around her hips, this plan only half-works, with her girlfriend face-planting into the mattress.
“Ow.”
“How could that be painful, it’s made of cotton and cloth.”
“It’s not my face that’s hurt, it’s my heart, Kim Kai. I can’t believe that my own girlfriend would betray me like this. I’m hurt, I am so hurt. Hurt down to my bones and my heart and my blood. Or something.”
Jongin rolls her eyes and lets Jongdae cuddle up to her. The cheerleader is lying partially on Jongin, one lean leg thrown over Jongin’s thighs. The two of them stay like that for a bit, Jongdae nuzzling at the hickey again but thankfully not bruising it even further.
“Jonginnie?”
“Hm?” She turns her head just in time for the kiss. It’s tame, a gentle press of Jongdae’s lips to hers. Jongin can taste a hint of the cherry lip balm. “That’s it?”
Jongdae sighs. “Of course not. That’s like the preview. That’s me being all romantic and shit, but okay, we can do a proper kiss kiss.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, simply surges forward.
This time it’s slick and hot. It’s Jongdae putting her sharp white teeth to use again, nipping and pulling at Jongin’s bottom lip. It’s Jongin struggling to breathe as Jongdae presses deeper, harder kisses in quick succession to her mouth. It’s Jongdae’s right hand cupping Jongin’s head while her left runs down Jongin’s body to cup her breast through the cumbersome layer of clothes.
“Ch-Chen,” Jongdae manages to stutter out, the name disintegrating into a long moan as Jongdae licks, bites, sucks down from her ruined mouth down to her neck, intent to leave yet another mark. “Mmm, Chen, please.”
She doesn’t know exactly what she’s begging for. More kissing, more touching, more-just more of Chen, more of Jongdae. Jongdae doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. A hickey blooms on the right side of Jongin’s neck, matching the one on the left. Both her thumbs circle Jongin’s nipples, the gentle pressure increasing bit by bit until she’s arching into the touch. It takes a few minutes for Jongin to realize that she’s mewling, tiny squeaks and high-pitched moans escaping her throat as Jongdae continues marking up her skin. She imagines the sight of her body in the morning, pictures small bruises littered around her throat, dark purples standing out despite the brown of her skin. Thinks about how they’d hurt so good every time someone brushes against them.
“Is this okay?” Jongdae’s voice breaks into her haze of pleasure, and Jongin opens her eyes blearily to see her girlfriend holding up the corner of her skirt. “If it’s too fast, we can just keep kissing. Or I could keep kissing you, you haven’t kissed me yet, lazy brat.”
Jongin lets out a breathless giggle. She purses her lips, wincing at how swollen they are, and reaches up to kiss Jongdae shyly on the nose. “Yes, it’s okay. And I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
She watches the bob of Jongdae’s throat as she swallows and slides her palm up Jongin’s thigh, up to the damp spot at the front of her underwear. Jongdae’s touch is tentative; there’s not enough pressure, so Jongin cants her hips forward and up, shamelessly seeking more.
“Ungh, Jongdae, Chen, please,” groans Jongin, until Jongdae swallows all of her words and punctured moans with a kiss. Sparks seem to burst in the black of her vision as Jongdae’s thumb rubs little circles on her clit.
When Jongdae pulls away, her eyes are dark. “Lie back and think of Gyeonggi-do.”
Confused and slightly annoyed by the disruption, Jongin props herself up on her elbows. “Why? What’s in Gyeonggi-do?”
Jongdae’s teeth flash. She shifts further down the bed, flipping Jongin’s skirt up and away from her panties. “Me,” she purrs, and blows cool air over the thin cotton.
-
Later, much later, like end of the semester later, Jongin sits in the back of Professor Xu’s office as Jongdae gives her report on whatever she’s been working on with the Prof. To be honest, Jongin’s not paying attention to the presentation. Whenever the small group of seniors nods along to Jongdae’s enthusiastic explanation of her project proposal, she belatedly bobs her head too.
It’s not easy focusing when Jongdae’s wearing one of her sweaters and skinny jeans. Firstly, the sweater is Jongin’s. That makes Jongin all warm inside. Secondly, the sweater is about a size too large for Jongin, and so it practically hangs down to Jongdae’s knobbly knees. Thirdly, those skinny jeans are really, really skinny. Fourthly, Jongdae’s wearing glasses. Jongin doesn’t even know that Jongdae has glasses. But they are there. On Jongdae’s face. Highlighting how cute she is. And finally, her hair has grown out of the frizzy perm she’d gotten just before the exam period. It’s soft and brown and wavy.
Jongin finds herself nearly drooling at the memory of running her fingers through those messy locks, hearing Jongdae moan at the rough tugs as she pulls her closer-
“Solid work, Miss Kim,” Professor Xu says, and Jongin swallows, blinking up at the front of the room. “Both of you.”
Jongin tries not to look like she’s been fantasizing about her girlfriend and smiles back. A moment more, her lap is full of a bouncy Jongdae chatting away nineteen to a dozen. She stares up at her, again not listening to the words coming rapidly out of that plush mouth, only snapping to when Professor Xu coughs to let them know they’re the only ones left in his office.
“Much as I enjoy your company, I don’t want to see either of you again until I have to,” he grouses.
“You adore us, Prof,” Jongdae says cheekily, untangling herself from Jongin’s arms. She pulls Jongin up and out of the room.
Professor Xu snorts. “Kim Jongin-ssi, maybe you could consider joining us for lab meetings next semester,” he says. “If you can keep awake, that is. As your professor, might I suggest that you get enough sleep over the vacation?” With a pointed look at Jongin’s dark eyebags, he shuts his door.
“Sadly, I don’t plan on letting you sleep much,” Jongdae murmurs.
“By snoring next to me?” For such a small creature, Jongdae can truly be quite loud. It’s endearing.
Her girlfriend sniffs. “I was going to eat you out to celebrate how awesome I was in there, but fine, Kim Kai, be that way.”
Laughing, Jongin kisses the shorter girl on her pout. “Let’s go home,” she says, still a little shy at holding Jongdae’s smaller hand in hers. “Before you scandalize more professors.”
The professor in question harrumphs and sticks her head back into her office, slamming her door closed.
Hand in hand, they giggle as they move out of the staff building and into the awaiting sunshine.