Band Room

                They don’t come here often.

                They don’t usually end up here after school or any time during school or even before school because, really, what reasons would they have to be here? The only times Doojoon and Yoseob find themselves anywhere near where the bands and choirs and orchestras practice is when they’re helping around with concerts and musicals as favors to Yonghwa and Jonghun and Hongki.

                It’s not often that they find themselves here, but today, after school, they do. Doojoon finds himself leading Yoseob through the double doors that take them into the vast space, filled with chairs and music stands curling in rows around the small, raised platform for the conductor. They find themselves laughing under their breaths because they know they’re doing something they’re not supposed to be doing in a place they have no reason being in.

                Doojoon motions at the clock on the wall with his shoulder as he pulls Yoseob straight away into the storage room where the instruments are kept. Yoseob grins as the older boy instantly pulls the goalie inside one of the largest cubicles—reserved for the double basses. Both of them fit, despite the slightly tight squeeze, but neither of them minds because it’s not like they’re going to do anything that requires space between their bodies anyway.

                Their blazers hit the floor of the cubicle before Doojoon is even finished fitting himself in, and the captain brings their lips together into the starting kiss. Yoseob laughs into the other boy’s mouth at the immediateness because they only have half an hour until the jazz band is due for after school practice, and Doojoon knows that it always becomes obvious they’re in a hurry when belts come off before ties and shirts do.

                They’re in a hurry, but they’re not rushing—Doojoon never rushes Yoseob, never rushes into any of this, because he knows how to pace them, knows how to lead this at a tempo that gets it done in time and makes it seamless and smooth all at once.

                Doojoon doesn’t bother taking his pants off all the way, simply shrugs them down enough to give him room. He falls back slightly against the wall of the cubicle, eyelids closing instantly and head tipping back as Yoseob’s mouth and tongue and teeth start grazing against the captain’s throat. His hands tighten against Yoseob’s hips, fingers shoving the waistband of the younger boy’s boxers down so he can curl his fingertips into the pale skin stretched taut and soft over the goalie’s hips.

                He feels Yoseob grin, then, suddenly and unexpectedly against the corner of Doojoon’s jaw, and the goalie pulls back just as Doojoon’s hands start to move forward from the younger boy’s hips—towards Yoseob’s thighs and what’s between them, pressing upward and hard against the goalie’s stomach. “What?” Doojoon says, drawing back and trying not to glower because time is running out and he—

                Yoseob just grins wider and comes in to kiss Doojoon shortly on the lips before the captain’s cheek teasingly. One of the younger boy’s hands steadies itself against Doojoon’s chest while the other slips down into the front of Doojoon’s boxers. “You first, captain,” Yoseob whispers right against Doojoon’s ear and then drags his mouth lazily down the side of Doojoon’s jaw and throat as the older boy feels that hand tighten around his and he has to shut his eyes again, leaning back limp against the wall of the cubicle.

                Doojoon loses himself in the feeling of Yoseob kissing him and jacking him, slowly—teasingly—maddeningly, until he can sense himself close, so close and whenever he’s close, his hands automatically grip Yoseob tighter, his lips automatically find Yoseob’s but the older boy’s kisses get messy, get desperate and he pants into Yoseob’s mouth, gasps against Yoseob’s bottom lip, and the younger boy slips his tongue into Doojoon’s mouth to catch the older boy’s cry when he comes straight into Yoseob’s hand.

                He’s barely caught his breath, barely regained his senses and stopped his mind from spinning so he can return the favor when he realizes that Yoseob is already zipping and belting himself up and suddenly meets Doojoon’s eyes with a look of amusement. Doojoon blinks, frowning in confusion, and Yoseob tilts his head towards the door that they can’t see while they’re walled in the cubicle. “Listen,” the younger boy grins, clearly highly amused.

                Doojoon listens.

                Voices.

                Familiar voices.

                The captain sighs as Yoseob laughs under his breath. The goalie pats Doojoon’s stomach in what is probably supposed to be comfort, but just comes off as more mockery. “You owe me still, hyung,” Yoseob says as Doojoon resigns himself to getting dressed even before their half-an-hour is up.

                “Yeah, yeah,” Doojoon says waspishly, even though he isn’t quite sure why he’s the waspish one when he actually got off and Yoseob is still hard—although considering the state the goalie’s in, he seems to be handling this all rather well, as they finish getting redressed and make their way out of the storage room.

                Yoseob handles the fact that he has to wait a few minutes before he can get any release quite well, and it’s sad that Doojoon can’t say the same about Yonghwa and Seohyun when Doojoon and Yoseob emerge out of the storage room. Clearly, Doojoon thinks, this was supposed to be a delicate moment judging from the way Yonghwa is holding Seohyun’s hand and how their faces are barely inches apart.

                Seohyun blinks and covers , eyes moving from the state of Doojoon and Yoseob’s clothes to inadvertently stop for a brief split second at exactly where Yoseob’s pants are strained before her hand moves to cover her eyes instead. Yonghwa’s mouth drops open, and then closes up—and then opens again. And then closes up.

                “I like your hair today, Seohyun-shii,” Yoseob smiles, before he takes the cuff of Doojoon’s sleeve and pulls him towards the door.

                Doojoon mouths an apology at Yonghwa, whose mouth is still opening and closing soundlessly in a terribly accurate rendition of what happens when Jonghyun is faced with the table of elements.

Locker Rooms

                It’s not really ever anything in particular.

                Yoseob thinks that it’s more to do with the fact that they spend a good deal of time in here waiting for the field to be open for them, waiting for everyone else to show up, sometimes waiting for their coach to show up, so of course the locker rooms are probably going to be the most familiar part of the school to them second to perhaps only the soccer field itself.

                And of course, it’s the locker rooms.

                So of course, it doesn’t have to be anything in particular.

                It’s never anything special or specific that ends up with Yoseob hard and panting and sweating even harder than he just did in practice mere minutes ago. It’s nothing special or specific that ends up with Yoseob’s eyes closed shut tight as he presses himself closer against the tiled wall as Doojoon palms the goalie’s , thumbing the tip of Yoseob’s and dancing his fingertips all over the length—Yoseob has to dig his teeth into his lip, has to reach backward and fist Doojoon’s shirt because that’s just—no—too much—way too much and Yoseob can’t—

                 Oh

                The goalie feels Doojoon’s lips grinning against the nape of his neck, tongue catching the rivulets of perspiration that drip down from Yoseob’s hairline and onto his face. Yoseob feels Doojoon’s own pressing into the younger boy, but right now, it takes all he can just to stop himself from bucking upward into Doojoon’s hand. He doubles over, almost falling to the floor and only stopped because Doojoon catches him, bending his knees and catching Yoseob on his lap.

                Doojoon laughs against Yoseob’s shoulder and lightly says into Yoseob’s hair, “Don’t pass out on me.” He twirls Yoseob around so that they face each other, and pins Yoseob’s back against the wall, as the captain drops down to his knees, hands steadying on the goalie’s hips.

                It doesn’t take much—doesn’t take long at all because of how hard Yoseob was to begin with and how much Doojoon in the minutes afterward. It doesn’t take long, only takes a few twists and turns of Doojoon’s tongue and swallowing Yoseob down in one go before Yoseob is writhing against the wall, Doojoon’s hair and biting his lip because he hates whimpering when he comes even though the sound finds a way to escape his mouth regardless.

                Yoseob slides to the ground, shorts and boxers around his ankles. He leans to the side of the wall, pressing his cheek against the cool metal locker. The goalie glances up and grins slightly when he sees Doojoon’s lips firmly clamped shut as the older boy’s eyes dart around for a place to spit. Yoseob sits up a little so he can gesture towards the paper towels—

                “Hyung.”

                Doojoon spits all over the bench in surprise, at the same time, Yoseob forces himself to his feet and yanks his boxers and pants up to his waist. “I thought you went home already,” the goalie says quickly as Dongwoon continues to look nothing short of absolutely mortified. The maknae’s eyes are nowhere near Yoseob—instead, they’re glued to the white liquid that’s now spattered all over the bench.

                The captain discreetly sidles around Yoseob and past Dongwoon, heading for the paper towels. “Didn’t Junhyung-hyung tell you guys not to do this anymore?” Dongwoon asks glumly, eyes still boring into the bench.

                “Um,” Yoseob says for lack of a better explanation, as Doojoon hurriedly returns and starts wiping down the bench with damp paper towels. “Doojoonie-hyung started it,” he finally decides to go with.

                Doojoon straightens up, incredulous. “You were already hard before I touched you!” he says, his voice rising as he points at Yoseob’s face.

                “I was hard because you looked hot today,” Yoseob shoots back, accusingly. “So you started it, .”

                Doojoon sputters in indignation.

                “Hyung,” Dongwoon interrupts sadly, and Yoseob and Doojoon look at him. “I just want to get my book from my locker and go home.” He motions with his hand at the wall of lockers behind Yoseob, brushing past the captain and co-captain and kneeling in front of one of the bottom lockers. His hand is on the lock when Yoseob realizes something.

                “Dongwoon-ah,” the goalie says in a small voice, “my was on your locker.”

                Dongwoon turns his head.

                “Sorry,” Yoseob adds, and then kicks Doojoon’s ankle.

                “Oh,” Doojoon says dazedly, tearing his eyes away from Yoseob, “yeah. Sorry.”

                The maknae sighs. And then looks up at Doojoon. “Hyung, can I have one of those paper towels?”

AP Biology Classroom

                Hyori makes them come back after school to close everything up.

                And they do.

                Yoseob waters down the test tubes and beakers and tongs in the sink, and Doojoon dries them with paper towels before storing them away in the cabinets or hanging them on the long wooden pegs hanging from the walls. He works faster than Yoseob does, mostly because watering everything down takes more time since not all of the test tubes and beakers and tongs they used today can be washed with just water.

                All Doojoon has to do is cart them to and fro the padding of towels to where they need to be stored, so of course he finds himself with spare time waiting for Yoseob to finish washing the next batch of equipment. His eyes dart once to the closed door of the classroom, and then towards the little window that lets him know exactly how empty the hallway is at this time of the day when everyone’s mostly gone home.

                He makes his way through the desks, catching Yoseob around the waist while the goalie is still at the sink, spraying the equipment down with the nozzle. “Yah,” Yoseob says, arms immediately stretching out forward so the water won’t get anywhere and none of the glass is tipped over in the sink. “Yah, if you make me break any of this, Hyori-noona is going to kill you.”

                Doojoon grins, pressing himself up against Yoseob since he can’t pull Yoseob away from the sink—he presses close enough so that the edge of the sink digs into Yoseob’s waist. “But you’d protect me, right?” he asks playfully, chin hooked on Yoseob’s shoulder.

                Yoseob snorts and Doojoon catches him rolling his eyes. The captain grins to himself, reaching out and turning off the nozzle and—before Yoseob can get a word of protest in edgewise—the older boy grabs Yoseob fully into his arms and spins him around onto the nearest desk, seating him on the edge so his legs dangle, the tips of his shoes nearly touching the floor. Without saying anything, Doojoon puts his hands lightly on Yoseob’s kneecaps and spreads the goalie’s legs open, standing between Yoseob’s legs and moving closer to kiss the co-captain.

                The goalie wraps his legs around Doojoon’s waist in response, ankles hooking at the base of Doojoon’s back, and the older boy just keeps coming in closer and forward until Yoseob laughs because Doojoon’s tipping him backwards completely until he’s lying on his back on the desk. Yoseob scoots even further back on the desk, legs letting go of Doojoon so the captain can press his body down on top of Yoseob, capturing his lips again, sweeping through his mouth with tongue and teeth, fingers undoing ties and buttons and zippers and belts all in a swoop.

                Yoseob is already pushing Doojoon’s shirt off of his body at the same time that Doojoon’s hands are yanking down Yoseob’s pants, fingers instantly prying at the younger boy’s waistband, pressing gently at his thighs and parting his legs again. The goalie’s tongue traces up and down and across all over Doojoon’s chest and throat—Yoseob’s own hands pressed against Doojoon’s sides, hips grinding upward, needy for friction, needy for more heat, for more pressure even if they’ve only started.

                “I didn’t know you still had any leftover,” Yoseob muses as Doojoon pulls off the younger boy’s shirt and kisses from his jaw line to his hairline.

                Doojoon pulls back a bit and grins. “I didn’t,” he shrugs. “I stole some from Jonghyunnie’s locker.”

                “You’re a terrible hyung,” Yoseob says with raised eyebrows, his voice soaked in impending laughter. He Doojoon’s cheek with the back of his hand and Doojoon leans in to kiss the goalie again. Doojoon kisses Yoseob—lips dragging, mouths opening and closing against each other’s, tongues sliding, and his hands glide down Yoseob’s ribs, down to hold Yoseob’s sides for a moment before grasping the younger boy’s hips and hoisting him forward.

                Yoseob makes this sound, this tiny sound that’s between a whispered laugh and a contented sigh right against Doojoon’s ear as the goalie’s arms toss themselves around Doojoon’s neck and the younger boy wraps his legs—his bare legs this time—around Doojoon’s waist, skin on skin, with Doojoon’s hands holding Yoseob up beneath the younger boy’s pale thighs.

                Doojoon takes Yoseob’s in his hand, kissing the other boy in rhythm with the , muffling Yoseob’s whimpers with the older boy’s own lips and holding, steadying, Yoseob when the younger boy’s body starts to arch into Doojoon’s. Yoseob pants, head falling against Doojoon’s shoulder, cheek pressed against the older boy’s collarbone. The goalie takes Doojoon’s free hand off of the co-captain’s hip and leads it around and behind and down and—

                “I’m getting there, I’m getting there,” Doojoon laughs when he realizes when Yoseob wants and realizes that Yoseob wants it sooner than he usually does. Yoseob takes his head off of Doojoon’s shoulder just for a moment to glare at the older boy, cheeks flushed and eyes far too bright, glazed and unfocused. Doojoon moves his eyebrows up and down playfully, taking Yoseob by the lips again before he does as the younger boy wants and pushes one finger in.

                The way it always does, Yoseob’s body stiffens at first, going completely rigid and still before it eases up as Doojoon slows down, kissing more languidly, Yoseob’s more smoothly, letting the younger boy adjust to the one finger before Doojoon slips another in and quickly kisses—

                “Yoon Doojoon—Yang Yoseob—I—you—this—my desk—”

                “,” Yoseob mutters throatily, falling limply on his back onto the desk, as Doojoon lets go of the younger boy’s and pulls his fingers out, turning around to face the doorway.

                Joon is blinking rather rapidly, mouth opening and closing in a quite apt imitation of Yonghwa’s back in the band room last week. He’s pointing furiously towards the desk beneath Yoseob and Doojoon raises his eyebrows mildly. “What do you want?” he asks, folding his arms.

                “My desk,” Joon says in a tiny voice. “That’s—desk—mine—you—my textbook—and—why?”

                Doojoon sighs, reaching between Yoseob’s legs (Joon squeaks) and taking out the heavy, hardcover book. He walks over, careful to step over the shed uniforms, and hands the track athlete the textbook. “There—happy?”

                Joon blinks some more, in outrage. “This—you—my desk—you can’t just—”

                “Joonie-hyung,” Yoseob says, staring dazedly at the ceiling, “I would sincerely appreciate it if you lectured us on not having on other people’s property after we have . So can you please leave and let Doojoon-hyung me?”

                Joon sputters and looks to Doojoon—probably for the support that he’s obviously not going to get and Doojoon doesn’t understand why he would ever think he’d get support since Doojoon’s is aching too. “Wise words,” Doojoon says cheerfully to Joon, taking him by the shoulders and steering him out of the classroom. Once the track athlete is out, Doojoon takes Hyori’s key and locks the door before crossing back to where Yoseob is still lying down on Joon’s desk.

                “Really,” Yoseob says, letting Doojoon pull the younger boy up by his wrists. “No one ever leaves us alone.”

                Doojoon grins. “I know,” he says against Yoseob’s lips, “they’re so rude.”