If you had told Yongguk as a young high school student that in his thirties he’d join the ranks of millions of suit-wearers hanging on to a grip on their subway commute to work, he’d probably have cried a little. He was a bit of a soft touch.

He didn’t hate it, though. He’d found work as a successful partner at an environmental and social law firm and had recently begun guest lecturing at the university he’d gone to himself so many years ago. There was always plenty of pro-bono work to keep things interesting if the bigger cases got a little too stale. Not to mention that having his job meant he had plenty of funds to enjoy his hobbies, one of which was frequenting the small jazz lounge a block or so from his condo. He’d come upon the place when Himchan had gotten a job there during college, half bartender, half piano man. They still dropped by every few weeks to unwind and reminisce but today Yongguk’s on his own, enjoying the quiet in his favourite chair. He has a perfect view of the small stage and now he has more reason to appreciate it.

A young man sits on a stool there, crooning into a microphone about lost love and renewed hope in turn. Yongguk knows he’s staring and hopes he’s far enough away that it isn’t unnerving the boy. He can’t help himself though; the singer is beautiful with features expressive and full. Yongguk can pick out the sparkle in his eyes and the softness of his pouty lips even from where he is.

When the song ends Yongguk joins in on the appreciative clapping and whistles, grinning to himself as he turns back to the bar. The low voices of talking begin to rise again as a slow track is played over the speakers, the singer taking his break and pulling out the chair beside Yongguk. He sees the boy glance over at him for a moment, before leaning over the bar to peer around it.

“You’re very talented,” Yongguk offers, feeling the need to say something, “I could probably listen to you sing all day.”

The boy accepts the compliments with a bright smile, bowing before plopping into the chair. Yongguk makes no comment when he keeps his body turned towards him while he calls out over the bar.

“Jae~ I’m parched!”

The young bartender sighs and slides over a glass of water.

“Diva.”

The singer pouts, “I heard that!”

The bartender leans over the counter, tugging on the other man’s nose playfully, “You were meant to, diva.”

Yongguk lets out a chuckle at their banter and it’s then that the singer looks over at him again, flushing pink.

“I’m not,” he says to Yongguk.

He clarifies when Yongguk quirks a brow at him, “A diva, I mean.”

“What are you then?”

The singer shrugs and lets out a little laugh, swinging his legs gently. He plays with the strap of his suspenders while he sips from the glass and Yongguk appreciates the way the lines hug his trim body. Images of other sorts of fabric criss-crossing the lithe frame come to mind, deep wine red or a soft crème to complement the singer’s luminescent skin. He averts his eyes consciously at that line of thinking, not wanting to be someone that would make the singer uncomfortable.

“Jae and I play a game sometimes,” the boy says suddenly, “We look at the patrons and make up their backstories.”

It’s a slightly fumbled invitation to keep their conversation going, one that Yongguk has no plans to turn down.

“And mine?” he asks, shifting in his seat so that he faces the singer more fully. He doesn’t deny the zing that runs through him at the younger man’s examination of him, dark lashes dropping over his curious eyes as they rove over Yongguk’s figure.

“Hm. You’re quiet, until you’re not. You prefer walking to anything else because you like to take your time. You probably have a couple fingers of whiskey just like this every week while you read a report in Time, or watch a documentary about post-war expressionism. That’s a real thing right?”

Yongguk allows a self-deprecating grin to surface, “You got all that in a minute?”

“Well, you’re in a jazz club, mister,” the singer drawls teasingly, leaning in.

“Yongguk.”

The singer repeats his name, giving a little hum afterwards as though he finds it suitable. He hops off his chair then, brushing off his clothes before turning to Yongguk.

“I’m going to freshen up before my next set; do you plan to stick around?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiles and turns away, disappearing down the hallways behind the bar.

Yongguk brings his glass up to his lips, downing the last bit of whiskey and letting the slight burn slide down his throat as he considers the singer. He has to be new, Yongguk hasn’t ever seen him here before and he is certainly young, perhaps just past his 20^th birthday. The bar tends to cycle through a new set every few years, when the local university students would graduate and move on to new places or jobs. Normally he finds it saddening to see bartenders or performers he’s come to know leave, but now he finds himself looking forward to his Thursday night ritual with new anticipation.

Sliding off the stool, he heads to the bathroom, navigating the winding hallways as easily as he had in his younger years. They are narrow and barely fit for two, a fact that is highlighted when he nearly slams into someone as he’s leaving.

“Oh! Sorry, sir- oh…hi Yongguk-ssi!”

Yongguk breathes a sigh of relief, his hands resting on the smaller man’s shoulders where he’d caught him from falling.

The singer laughs slightly, apologizing, and Yongguk shakes his head, letting his hands fall with some difficulty. The other man smells like vanilla and spice, a scent comforting like a warm coffee house in autumn. His lashes are long and cheeks darkening as he shifts slightly, not away from Yongguk and back to the stage, but against him, nearly pressed to his front in the tight hallway. Yongguk finds his head falling just enough for their foreheads to touch, wondering what has come over him and whether he ever had a choice otherwise.

It’s the singer that closes the gap first, eager in a way only youth brings out, though Yongguk is right there with him. Yongguk slides his arms around a narrow waist when he feels hands linking behind his neck, tugging him closer as their mouths fit together. He’s sure he's never felt lips this soft, a body that fits so exactly to his, or sounds this musical in his ear. His hands grip tighter, unwilling to let go just yet, and the singer moans appreciatively.

When they finally pull apart, Yongguk isn’t sure how much time has passed, only that the singer’s lips have gotten at least two shades darker and his hair has lost any effect of the freshening up he’d left to do.

There is the sound of someone calling down the hallway and the singer jumps in Yongguk’s hold before answering back distractedly.

“That’s-that’s for me,” he says, breathless, “Oh, I must look a mess…I’m sorry I don't know what-”

“You look perfect,” Yongguk cuts in, brushing wayward locks of brown back into place before letting his hands drop.

The singer’s cheeks darken too, much to Yongguk’s pleasure.

“Thank you. I have to go back…”

Yongguk nods and the boy steps out, turning back to look at him with a fluttery smile before bowing.

“Wait,” Yongguk calls, just before he turns the corner, “I still don’t know your name.”

The boy eyes him thoughtfully before grinning sweetly, leaning slightly back into Yongguk’s space to whisper before stepping back towards the stage.

“Ask me next week.”

*

By the time the next Thursday rolls around again Yongguk wakes feeling energized. It’s his day off at the firm now that the semester has started; he teaches three classes in the morning and early afternoon at the university. The winter session has begun and it’s the first class for the term. He enjoys teaching, despite the moments of frustration. For every sullen student that spends their class staring blankly at the whiteboard, there are others who make it worthwhile.

Not to mention Thursdays are now his designated jazz club night.

“Don’t you look…rejuvenated?”

Himchan considers him from his desk the moment he walks in. They share an office since Yongguk doesn’t need a full-time space. His friend had secured a position teaching music theory and composition at their alumnus and Yongguk couldn’t have been happier for him but there are downsides to having to share a space with Himchan again.

Like the fact that he has a nose for gossip that has only sharpened over the years.

He blinks at Himchan over the screen of his laptop, shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s nice to get out of the firm for a bit.”

Himchan nods and Yongguk thinks that’s the end of it. He’s known Himchan for years and he still hasn’t learned.

“You sure that’s all?”

“All you need to know,” he replies, just to mess with his long-time friend.

Himchan eyes him with his fox-like scrutiny, before shrugging and turning back to his work.

“Whatever it is, it looks good on you. And I’ll find out soon enough.”

*

Yongguk gives the class an extra five minutes to settle and for the stragglers to walk in before turning his mic on for his first lecture of the year.

“Welcome to Ethics and Law, my name is Bang Yongguk and-”

The door to the auditorium groans out a high pitched squeak and all eyes turn to the front of the hall where it has come from. Yongguk is more amused than anything, he can cut a little slack for day one, halls can be difficult to navigate on a campus so big and the newcomer isn’t all that late after all.

He hears the shuffling and sees the body bowing to the class in apology before it turns to him to do the same and freezes.

Those suspenders still look damn good only this time Yongguk feels like he most definitely should avert his eyes. He does break the stare first, aware of the students in the room and the wide eyes of the latecomer. Desperately pushing thoughts of the last time he’d seen that face to the back of his mind, he grips the sides of his podium just to have something to do with his hands.

“To your seat then,” he says with a nod to the few empty chairs left.

The boy bows in apology again and dashes up the steps, settling into a seat halfway up the auditorium.

Yongguk begins his lecture, most of it covering the basics and going over the outlines and assignments. It’s a good thing; he can barely concentrate with the man he’d kissed so intensely just a week before eyeing him curiously the entire time. Despite the situation he’s finding himself in, he looks up every so often to where the singer sits and is pleased to find him attentive, jotting down notes or diligently reading the material he’d handed out.

He finds himself thinking the way he pushes his pink-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose is cute. How small and compact he looks in his seat and would probably – had probably – looked in Yongguk’s hold. That the confused look on his face at another student’s question awakens in him a protective instinct he isn’t sure the boy would welcome or need but one that he wants to follow nonetheless. It’s dangerous and he isn’t sure how he’s going to put an end to it.

When he dismisses the class the boy hops down the steps, shoulder bag bouncing against his hip. He leans down to write his email on the contact list and Yongguk busies himself with packing up his things. He’s acutely aware of the singer’s presence though, the soft fresh scent that comes off him and the sound of his footfalls as he’s approached.

“Here, Professor, um…sir?”

Yongguk swallows down the feeling that rises in him at his title coming from those lush lips and takes the paper the boy is holding out to him.

“Thank you.”

The boy nods, turning away with a shy little quirk of his lips and Yongguk is struck by how different he is on stage and here among the sharp lights of the auditorium and the sounds of student chattering outside.

“I’ll see you later, Professor.”

Yongguk doesn’t say anything to that; it’s probably safer that way. He glances down at the sheet briefly, at the neat little letters written on the final line, before stuffing it into his bag.

Daehyun.

It’s a fitting name, he thinks.

Beautiful.

*

He finds himself heading to the bar that night despite his misgivings. He is treading close to something deeper and though he’s usually strong enough to resist the currents, he isn’t sure he should be playing so close in this case.

He takes his usual seat, orders his customary drink, and waits.

It isn’t long before the recorded music fades and a figure steps out. For the first time he notices that Daehyun, as he now knows him, doesn’t introduce himself but begins to sing without preamble. He doesn’t need much of a lead in, as soon as his crisp voice fills the lounge everyone is subtly shifting towards the source. Daehyun sings with an emotion that shines through his face, that Yongguk can feel in the very tips of his fingers as they press into the cool glass in his hand.

He doesn’t bother to try and pretend to be occupied with anything else, phone left forgotten in his pocket as he takes in the soulful performance. He barely notices the ice melting into his drink, watered down and warm but even that can’t ruin the experience. Here, in this moment, Daehyun isthe experience.

Yongguk feels as if he’s been caught in a vacuum when Daehyun bows and hops down the steps to enthusiastic applause, realizing nearly an hour has passed without him noticing. Daehyun is walking towards him and his eyes rest briefly on Yongguk before he leans over the bar, picking up the glass of water that has been left for him there.

Yongguk watches his throat bob as he gulps it down, eyes still resting on the expanse of skin when he hears Daehyun greet him.

“You came back, Professor.”

This changes things, Yongguk knows. What had been a carefree, promising flirtation last week couldn’t possibly remain so now.

“I’ve been coming here for years,” he says, then, not wanting to seem cold he adds, “You did well this time, too.”

Daehyun bows in his seat and thanks him softly, hands clasped together in his lap.

Their conversation is brief this time, more stilted. Yongguk tries as gently as he can to steer away Daehyun’s earnest attempts to take their interaction deeper but every pout on the younger’s face only makes it harder. Daehyun returns to the stage some time later and this time he sings with his eyes open, focused on a particular dark corner of the lounge, just by the bar.

Yongguk indulges himself, he is only human after all, but he knows when to take a step back. He leaves before the encore, aware of a set of eyes on him as he does.

*

It starts from there, the back and forth.

Yongguk still shows up to the bar every Thursday, still listens with rapture to Daehyun’s performances, but now ducks out just before the singer takes his break. It’s cowardly and probably confusing for the younger man but Yongguk can’t help himself from this one indulgence.

Daehyun will corner him in class, asking an inane question or two to hold him there. The singer doesn’t know it but he achieves that every time he bites on the end of his pen, pushes his lips out in annoyance when another student gives a silly answer, or pulls his loose sweaters over the knuckles of his hands. Yongguk likes to think his cataloging of these little quirks is subtle but he knows better. They’re both perfectly aware of what’s brewing between them and he doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. It occurs to Yongguk the less selfish thing to do would be to avoid Daehyun completely, cruel-to-be-kind as Himchan would call it.

Really though, he doesn’t want to let go of this game that seems to be playing out between them. He enjoys the way Daehyun’s eyes follow him across the front of the class or flit to him when he sings in the bar.

He doesn’t think it fair for him to grade Daehyun’s work though he does read the boy’s assignments. He’d fallen for the cadence in his wording, the rhythm of his phrases not unlike the dips and climbs in his voice as he sings. He tries not to let his mind wander to the dip of his lower back as it curves, the glimpse he’d gotten when Daehyun had reached over to swipe a glass of water at the bar. Yongguk doesn’t try very hard at this point though, not when he’d spied Daehyun’s own eyes resting on the slopes of his collarbones or his hands as they fit around a whisky glass, the singer’s plump lower lip caught between his teeth.

It’s as if they are two different sets of people, buttoned up and formal during the day, restricted by the classroom and the roles they play in the script housed there. In the evenings they dance around each other, each aware of the stark line in the sand and walking back and forth over it like a tight rope. There are moments they sway over it just barely before catching themselves and restoring what had become a tenuous balance.

When the semester is nearly half over, Daehyun comes to his office holding a cup of coffee and a little paper bag. Yongguk forgets to greet him in his need to drink up the image Daehyun makes today, in nothing more than simple black jeans and a loose shirt in a crisp white. It’s the delicate, velvety line of black around his neck that he’s most focused on, though.

Daehyun shifts from one foot to the other, a hand curled around the chair in front of Yongguk’s desk as his eyes flit to Himchan and back to Yongguk nervously.

“Well if this isn’t a sign I need to go on a coffee break I don’t know what is,” the other professor says jovially, winking at Yongguk on his way out.

Yongguk wants to call him back, anything to keep someone else is this room where he and Daehyun suddenly are, alone together for the first time since their initial meeting.

“Have a seat,” he says instead, gesturing to the chair.

Daehyun plops down, placing his bag neatly on the floor beside him. He slides the coffee closer to Yongguk’s side of the table.

“I brought you coffee. Well, I got you three because I wasn’t sure what you’d like but I got so nerv-…I was tired. I drank the other two. Figured this would suit you better.”

Yongguk takes a sip; black, just a hint of sugar.

“Thank you. It’s just right.”

The student smiles at that, clearly pleased with himself and Yongguk, goodness help him, is endeared further. Daehyun pushes the little paper bag closer, too.

“It’s the best croissant they make for miles, I promise.”

“What are you trying to bribe me for, Daehyun-ssi?”

The boy frowns without saying anything for a moment before a sigh of frustration leaves his lips, “Why won’t you just-”

“Daehyun-ssi,” he insists, stern in his warning, “If you don’t have something class-related to discuss, I suggest you start studying for the mid-term. I won’t be going easy on you.”

“Me?”

“The class,” he corrects.

Yongguk twirls his pen in his hand, more as a distraction than anything else as he waits. His fingers practically itch with the desire to touch when he sees the singer, remembers the way he’d felt in that hallway, so pliant and restless at the same time. He rests his hands on the table instead when he notices Daehyun’s eyes lingering on his hands, following their dexterity.

“That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about,” Daehyun says then.

“Oh?”

“There’s a festival later in the evening, starts just an hour or so after the exam and I won’t make it in time to sing. I could kind of use the money so…I wanted to ask if maybe I could take the exam earlier in the afternoon.”

Yongguk considers it. It wouldn’t be a huge issue, he always has a few versions of his tests and he’d just give Daehyun a different one. Though it is unlikely he’ll be able to find someone to invigilate on short notice and that means spending two hours alone with Daehyun in a quiet room with nothing to do but watch him.

The student sits with a hopeful expression on his face, lips falling into a pout so natural Yongguk can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed.

“Fine. Can you be free at noon that day instead?”

Daehyun cheers, hopping up and reaching down as if to throw his arms around Yongguk. They both freeze and Daehyun steps back, hands falling at his sides unsurely before they reach down to pull at his bag.

“Yeah, I…yes. Of course. Um, thank you. Professor.”

The boy dashes out without another word and Yongguk lets his head fall back onto his chair with a sigh. The air still smells like a hit of vanilla and it only serves to cement Daehyun’s presence in his mind even further, like he needs anymore sensory triggers.

“So,” Himchan’s voice sounds from the doorway minutes later, steps jaunty, “That’s the nothing I needed to know about, huh?”

“It really is nothing,” Yongguk insists, despite himself. Much as he wants it to be something.

“Mhm,” Himchan agrees easily, coming to lean against Yongguk's desk, “I’m just saying, there’s a time for everything. Not now doesn’t mean not ever.”

*

It’s torture, really.

Yongguk tries to focus on his book, telling himself to look just enough to make sure Daehyun doesn’t have the textbook written on his arm or something.

Not that he needs to look very hard; Daehyun has chosen a sweater that is barely up to handle spring let alone winter. Every time Yongguk lifts his head he catches it nearly falling off a shoulder or sending him vague peeks of dusky shadows on a warm looking chest. There isn’t much you can hide under there.

“Five more minutes,” he calls, keeping his eyes on the same page his novel had been on when he’d first opened it.

“Yes, sir.”

His hands tighten around the book, the spine creasing further. He jolts out of his concentration when a paper is held out in front of him.

“All done.”

He accepts it, looking it over for completeness before nodding his approval.

“Did I do well, Professor?” Daehyun asks, a glint in his eye.

“Are you really going to sing outside in that?” Yongguk side-steps, putting the completed exam into his briefcase.

“I have a coat!”

Yongguk frowns further at the stylish but hardly functional jacket the singer holds up.

“You’ll get sick. Go home and change.”

“Are you worried about me, sir?” Daehyun shrugs on his coat, cheeks lifted with his smile.

“I won’t let you make up your next paper if you find yourself confined to bed.”

“Confined to bed, hmm. Sounds like fun.”

He’s dangerous, Yongguk thinks as he hides a smile, dangerous and perfect and not mine.

Daehyun laughs softly, wrapping a large scarf around his neck and Yongguk knows he’s completely gone on him at the relief that – and the hat the younger man pulls out next – makes him feel. The singer’s grin fades slightly as he tugs it on and shoulders his bag slowly.

“You know, it’s not too far from here. You could come to the festival. After the exam, I mean. I’d like that.”

"I wouldn't make it in time to hear you."

Daehyun shifts, shrugging, "No but...there are other performances and things. We could just..."

He trails off, unsure of how to put the invitation into words though he doesn't need to. Yongguk knows exactly what he's asking.

Not yet. Not never maybe, but not yet.

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing, Daehyun-ssi," he reassures instead, "And that it'll be a good night. Maybe next time.”

Daehyun nods with a sigh, likely expecting the rejection.

“I’ll just have to picture you there. I always sing better now, when I do,” Daehyun says matter-of-factly, stepping past Yongguk towards the door, “Have a good night, Professor.”

*

By the time the 12 weeks of the semester are over, Yongguk is exhausted.

The weeks leading up to the submission of final grades had been hectic to say the least. Slammed with work both at the university and the firm, Yongguk had skipped the jazz lounge for a couple of weeks choosing instead to use the time to unwind at home as he graded papers. He finds it enjoyable, even the bad ones are amusing in a way. He puts on a playlist as background music, noting that Daehyun had sung many of the songs in the queue.

The recorded voices fade out as Daehyun’s voice fades into his head and he realizes he’s missed the young singer more than he thought. They don’t have a relationship, not really, but Daehyun is far from Yongguk’s average student. He is bright and sweet, clever and mischievous, childish sometimes and wise the next. He seems restless in class more often lately and sometimes Yongguk thinks maybe it’s not just the stress of exams, maybe it’s him. Maybe the younger man is just as affected by his presence, just as yearning for the barriers between them to fall and let them pass.

*

It’s a Thursday, the last day of the term, when someone knocks on his office door. Yongguk is packing up his things; he won’t be teaching again until the following term has passed.

“Come in,” he says not looking up until he hears a familiar voice, a familiar cadence that doesn’t need song to come through.

“I just wanted to say, sir, that…I really liked your class.”

Daehyun is dressed in a soft looking sweater, big and warm looking. His hands are curled inside its sleeves, one holding onto the strap his backpack like he’s sure he’ll have to flee in a moment.

“Thank you,” Yongguk replies, genuinely.

“Not just because…” Daehyun begins again, trailing off shyly.

Yongguk sets down the book he’s holding, giving the student his full attention and raising an amused brow.

“Because?”

Daehyun flushes red at this, colour creeping in from his ears and neck and towards his face.

“Not just…because it was you. I learned a lot. You’re….you’re really good at teaching, Professor.”

He accepts the compliment graciously, it does mean a lot to him to hear his students find his classes valuable. Daehyun bows shortly before turning away, head tilting back slightly before he leaves.

“I’ll see you tonight, right?”

Yongguk hedges.

“Maybe.”

Something sparks in Daehyun’s eyes, a hint of the spirit Yongguk had seen in him that first night.

“I’ll see you then.”

*

Daehyun’s final note rings out true and clear, and for the first time in months Yongguk is there to receive him at the end. The singer hadn’t stopped by earlier in the night, instead choosing to take his break in the staff rooms. Now, he comes to Yongguk, boldly pulling up his stool right next to him and flashing a little smile.

“You came back, mister.”

“What, not Professor anymore?”

Daehyun’s grin widens here, a cheeky little thing that sharpens his teeth and sets his eyes sparkling.

“I liked my elective. But I don’t plan on taking any more law classes. I’m not your student anymore.”

A toe over the line, just so, poised to step back if a fall is imminent.

“That you’re not. So,” Yongguk finishes off his glass, sliding it across the bar when Daehyun leans in close, “What is it you want to be?”

“Take me home,” the singer says, taking his leap, “And I’ll show you.”

Yongguk is powerless to turn down an offer like that. He stands, a hand gentle on the younger man’s back to guide him out of the bar and down the street. The short walk to his home is quiet, their hands brushing occasionally as they speed to their destination. There will be plenty of time for talk later.

They hold each other’s stares in the elevator, the numbers lighting up as they rise higher and higher. Yongguk almost doesn’t hear the doors open, snapping out of this trance long enough to lead Daehyun out with him and unlock his door. His keys are tossed into the bowl on the small table by the door, just barely landing in with a clink when Daehyun pulls him back towards him. The door bears the brunt of their restrained passion, slamming shut as Yongguk blindly feels around for the lock. He takes a moment to give Daehyun's bared neck the attention he’s wanted to give it for months, both of them kicking off their shoes as they kiss against the hard surface. Pulling Daehyun away from the door, he walks down the small hallway to his bedroom, thankful it isn’t it a terrible state.

Daehyun is the one to lead him this time, pushing him to take a seat on the fresh sheets and standing in front of him to shuck off the rest of his clothes. He doesn’t make a show of it, efficiently ing and ping, leaving them in a little pile that he steps out of delicately when he’s completely bare. Yongguk doesn’t bother to hide his admiration of Daehyun’s body and Daehyun comes to him easily when he holds out a hand. He straddles Yongguk’s waist, settling atop him and wrapping arms around him. Yongguk’s fingers trail across the soft planes of Daehyun’s back, arched now into his body as the younger man dots kisses up and down Yongguk’s long neck.

“I waited so long, sir,” Daehyun breathes against his ear, jerking in his grip when Yongguk’s hands slide over and under his rear.

“Don’t have to call me that anymore,” Yongguk reminds him with a gentle nip to his chest that makes the singer hum.

“I want to,” Daehyun answers, before running his hands down Yongguk’s body, over his shirt and pants, “Keep these on?”

Yongguk groans at that, at once wondering how he could have spent months denying himself this and thankful that he had. It’s all the more sweeter now. Daehyun lets Yongguk maneuver them, never breaking out of the light restraint he puts him under and instead squirming in pleasure beneath him, a pink flush working its way over his body.

Yongguk settles over Daehyun, holding himself up on his elbows over the younger man’s form, his soft thighs brushing against the rough fabric of Yongguk's clothes and wandering hands sliding over his back and through his hair.

The kiss slowly now, all the time in the world in their hands and finally free to use it.

“There’s so much I want to do with you,” Yongguk sighs, his nose brushing against Daehyun’s affectionately.

Daehyun makes a pleased sound, curling fists into Yongguk shirt and arching up to bring their bodies closer still.

“Then do it,” he says, grinning up at Yongguk with a spark in his eyes, “Teach me.”

*

Yongguk wakes to warmth and a distinct feeling of contentment.

Daehyun rests his head on folded arms, lying on his belly with Yongguk’s sheets bunched up just past his lower back. Yongguk leans over him and trails lips up the soft skin of his spine. It has a rhythm, just like the rest of the boy.

“Morning, Professor,” Daehyun sing-songs, laughing softly when Yongguk nips his shoulder.

The younger flips onto his back and stretches happily before flopping back down, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Is this…unethical?”

“Honestly?” Yongguk replies, settling onto his back as Daehyun presses up against him, “Kind of. But…well actually, I’ve been making sure all your assignments are in my assistant’s pile to mark since I saw you walk in.”

Daehyun pouts, “Sir’s no fun.”

“Hm. Not what you thought last night.”

“Guess I bring it out in you.”

“We have all day if you want it,” Yongguk mumbles against the soft hair of Daehyun's crown, “What do you want to do?”

Daehyun curls into him, musical laugh sounding as he’s tickled by Yongguk’s lips, his hands, his gaze.

“Make me sing.”

Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated~