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The first, and only interaction Kim Dokja has with Professor Yoo outside of class is when he bumps into him at a convenience store near campus. After an awkward, ten second freak out where he wonders if he should just ignore him, Kim Dokja settles for a polite hello, professor. Professor Yoo gives him an impassive, terrifying stare, before he glances past Kim Dokja. Turning around, Kim Dokja realizes he’s next in line.
He places the wrapped, triangle kimbap on the counter. The tips of his ears are red, peeking out through his hair, and he remains blissfully unaware of Yoo Joonghyuk staring at them.
And then his card gets declined.
The cashier gives him a pitying stare as Kim Dokja flushes, scrambling for his wallet to dig for loose bills he knows aren’t there.
“Nevermind,” Kim Dokja says, bright red as he waves his hand. “I’ll put it ba—”
Hit with the subtle scent of cologne, an arm reaches past him. Professor Yoo places his pack of cigarettes on the counter, not looking at Kim Dokja.
“All of it.” Professor Yoo says, motioning for the cashier to ring up Kim Dokja's snacks as well.
“You don’t have to, sir…” Kim Dokja begins, horrified.
“If this is all you eat, it’s no wonder you’re so thin,” he says, curtly. Before Kim Dokja can pick his jaw off the floor, he smirks as he turns to leave.
What? What. Rude bastard. Kim Dokja clenches his jaw. They can’t all be buff.
If this is Kim Dokja’s only interaction with Professor Yoo outside of work, then his disbelief at his current situation should be expected.
"I'll pay you one million won."
"Excuse me?"
"Is that not enough?" Yoo Joonghyuk presses. Kim Dokja has no idea what he means, because what he understands makes no sense.
Professor Yoo wants to what, with whom?
Kim Dokja buys bulk instant noodles and takes the subway everywhere. Yoo Joonghyuk looks like he should eat nothing but wagyu beef and get carried around like a feudal lord in a palanquin.
"Five million." Yoo Joonghyuk raises his offer.
"Is this a prank? How would you even afford that on a professor's salary?"
"Not a prank. I have my ways." Yoo Joonghyuk's expression is calm, and his words are patient, like doting on a child—but a shiver runs up Kim Dokja's spine at the glint to Yoo Joonghyuk's gaze. Something dangerous lurks there, and Kim Dokja would be a fool not to notice. He has a scar crossing over one eye like some sort of movie-villain, but his face could land him the lead role regardless.
By all standards, he should be the one begging Yoo Joonghyuk to even look his way—not Yoo Joonghyuk offering to pay money for sexual favors from him.
The power dynamics are all wrong!?
"I should leave before the camera crew appears," Kim Dokja tries to not look as bewildered as he feels, gathering his book bag from the empty seat beside him. Rising, he reaches out to pick his phone off the table. Yoo Joonghyuk's hand wraps around his. His thumb brushes along the inside of his wrist, tender, but molten hot, and Kim Dokja's mouth drops at his touch. This slick bastard. Now Kim Dokja knows he's gone insane.
"Sit down, Kim Dokja."
Professor Yoo looks up at him through his thick, straight lashes. The smile on his face makes Kim Dokja dizzy. Instead of demure like one of those seductresses in the movies, Yoo Joonghyuk's intense gaze is paralyzing, like the last patient moments of a predator staring down his prey.
Kim Dokja has never been looked at like this before.
He sits.
Yoo Joonghyuk releases him, but he seems ready for Kim Dokja to bolt at any time.
"I've never been with a man," Kim Dokja reasons, "I'd be terrible at it. All teeth, you'd be furious..." Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk has some weird fantasy in his head where Kim Dokja actually knows how to suck dick, but Kim Dokja would rather crush his dreams now than have to take his clothes off in front of a man like Yoo Joonghyuk.
Except this does not seem to deter Yoo Joonghyuk at all. He actually seems pleased at Kim Dokja's inexperience.
"Have you been with anyone?" Yoo Joonghyuk asks.
"I can't see how that's relevant, professor." Kim Dokja swallows, his throat dry. He can't keep looking at Yoo Joonghyuk when he's staring at him like that, averting his gaze and sipping from his own coffee. Like hell he'll admit to being a virgin in front of Yoo Joonghyuk.
"All of it is relevant. I want to know everything about you."
Kim Dokja chokes on his drink. Maybe someday Professor Yoo will make sense again.
"Including how bad I am at theoretically giving head?" He can't believe he's saying this to anyone, much less Yoo Joonghyuk.
"You don’t believe me.”
“Can you blame me?” Not two hours ago, Yoo Joonghyuk left a scathingly graded paper on Kim Dokja’s desk. See me after class, he’d written at the bottom in ink as red as blood, and Kim Dokja mourned his class average. Now they’re at a coffee shop, and Yoo Joonghyuk is after his virtue.
His general impression of Professor Yoo is that he's a dangerously handsome asshole, with a laconic wit that has more than once left students in tears. Professor Yoo's cold indifference is preferable to this, Kim Dokja realizes as Yoo Joonghyuk smiles at him once more. Having his attention makes Kim Dokja wilt, unable to withstand the scrutiny. Utterly shy and aware of every awkward angle on his body. There's nothing that Yoo Joonghyuk could want from him that he could—
“When I first saw you, I felt the inexorable urge to touch you, to take you under my wing.” Yoo Joonghyuk straightens the sleeves on his coat, crossing one long leg over the other as he sits back in his seat. Kim Dokja has no idea what to say, mouth dry again at the impressive image his new pose makes, but Yoo Joonghyuk thankfully(?) continues, “Your financial situation is lacking. I can offer you more than suitable compensation.”
“Hey, hold on, just because you’re—” a wave of embarrassment overwhelms Kim Dokja. He’s in college, of course he’s broke—unlike some hot, tenured professors with suspicious amounts of money.
“I can spoil you, Kim Dokja. All you have to do is let me.”
Kim Dokja sucks in a breath. Yoo Joonghyuk smiles. He’s smiled more in this conversation that Kim Dokja has seen in the last three years of seeing him on campus. It’s only now that Kim Dokja realizes something is in Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands; his phone. When had Professor Yoo taken it?
“How did you know my passcode?” He asks, weakly. There’s a slight twitch in one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s brows, but he doesn’t answer, typing something into Kim Dokja’s phone.
“Don’t ignore me when I call, and I’ll reward you for being good.” Yoo Joonghyuk finishes whatever he’s doing with Kim Dokja’s phone, easily putting it back in front of Kim Dokja.
“Also, you've misunderstood me. I want to go down on you."
"Oh." Kim Dokja says after a long, stunned pause. "Alright."
It is not alright. Kim Dokja, you fucking fool, not alright—
Professor Yoo wears fitted slacks. There's nothing but black and various shades of gray in his outfits, except for one devastatingly hot navy blue pullover that someone must have gotten him for Christmas. He wore it on a cold day under a thick wool coat, taking off the outer layer once inside the classroom and revealing the way it clung to his muscles in front of a group of hungry students. Kim Dokja can’t remember what they covered that day.
In all his twenty-two years of living, Kim Dokja has never wanted to choke on someone's cock more. But that was all meant to be reasonable, distanced pining. Kim Dokja’s seat is towards the middle of the lecture hall, off to the side where he has a great view of Professor Yoo when he sits at his desk and that was enough.
Or so he thought.
Yoo Joonghyuk likes it when he calls him hyung. He doesn't know how to feel when Kim Dokja calls him professor, not anymore. Not when he's got his student's cock in his mouth as often as he does.
The door to Professor Yoo's office is shut, locked by Kim Dokja’s expectant, anxious hands as he'd responded to his professor's summons. Yoo Joonghyuk has his hands on him the second he turns around, swallowing Kim Dokja's surprised noise with his mouth.
"Should I fail him?" Yoo Joonghyuk wonders aloud, voice ragged as he cups Kim Dokja's cheeks. Even without knowing who he is, Kim Dokja knows who Yoo Joonghyuk is referring to.
"Why?" Kim Dokja asks, chewing on his lip and watching Yoo Joonghyuk stare at his mouth, "Because he shared his textbook with me?"
The reasonable part of Kim Dokja says this is unhealthy. The rest of him shivers at the thrill of being wanted like this (or at all).
Yoo Joonghyuk is lucky Kim Dokja made it to his class at all; he'd slept through his first two alarms and had forgotten half his things in his room. His seatmate had offered to share, and Kim Dokja had spent the last hour shoulder-to-shoulder with Lee Hyunsung. He tries to speak reason, because Yoo Joonghyuk might actually fail Lee Hyunsung, and the man would no doubt cry, "You're the professor. You shouldn’t be abusing your power this way, sir. Not any more than you already do, at least.”
Yoo Joonghyuk squeezes his face in annoyance, and Kim Dokja can’t help the huff of delirious laughter. He has some strange obsession with his body and the reactions he makes, but to say that Yoo Joonghyuk wants him is an understatement and wild oversimplification. Professor Yoo does not simply want to sleep with him.
It has taken Kim Dokja weeks to even begin to understand the depths of Yoo Joonghyuk’s obsession with him. He wants… Kim Dokja is still not sure what he wants, nor is he sure if Yoo Joonghyuk is getting it from their time spent together.
Yoo Joonghyuk wants to touch him. This is the minimum of his desire. They don’t interact during the day, but Yoo Joonghyuk seems to watch to map every inch of his skin once they’re behind closed doors. All the unusual, un-sexy parts of his body; the knobby curve of his ankle, the soft skin behind his knees, the tender, ticklish place on his torso where his ribs can be felt under skin. However, it doesn’t end there. Kim Dokja can see the quiver in Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders as he holds Kim Dokja’s legs apart to take his cock into his mouth, how his hands grip his thighs and then ease off, as if stopping himself from leaving behind bruises.
If there is such restraint, what lies beyond? What does Kim Dokja have to do to make him lose that composure?
At first, Yoo Joonghyuk would jerk him off. One time, he made Kim Dokja do it while he watched. Eventually, he started using his mouth. On his dick, on his hole; the talented mouth he’s seen make students cry makes Kim Dokja cry for different reasons altogether. Then, Yoo Joonghyuk played with his asshole. One finger at first, while Kim Dokja came down Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat. And then two. Three. Four. Until each of their sessions leaves Kim Dokja significantly wealthier, debauched, stumbling home with an empty ache between his legs.
Kim Dokja writhes as Yoo Joonghyuk makes him cum in his mouth again, but with three fingers stretching him open at the same time. Kim Dokja's hole has long gone soft and pliant, Yoo Joonghyuk's fingers sucked in as if greedily begging for more and the three are no longer enough. Maybe Kim Dokja does beg, hair splayed across Yoo Joonghyuk’s desk, rumpling the papers haphazardly spread under him. As if Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t care that Kim Dokja is messing them up, as if he doesn’t care that Kim Dokja’s cum will soak through an entire semester’s worth of work.
“Hyung,” Kim Dokja chokes, hand flying to his mouth when Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth moves down to between his cheeks, licking at his hole. It flutters prettily around his fingers, sloppy and wet with slick. The fourth finger slides in easily, Kim Dokja too distracted by the cruel flick of Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue on his nerves. It is at this sensation that Kim Dokja cums again, with four fingers of Yoo Joonghyuk’s stuffed in his ass, stroking his prostate.
“Let me fuck you, Dokja-ya,” Yoo Joonghyuk begs, breath heaving as he smears his fingers through the slick left on Kim Dokja’s tummy. “However much you want. I’ll buy you anything. Ten million won—”
“—yes,” Kim Dokja breathes, to being fucked, the money doesn’t matter, he just needs something inside him, “please, please.”
He keens when Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers slip out of him, but his head is too heavy to lift off the desk. He hears Yoo Joonghyuk rustling with his belt, the quiet zip of his slacks. Gasping at the first heavy press of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cockhead to his hole, he goes still as it pushes inside. Ah, fuck, he’s not wearing a condom. Yoo Joonghyuk is going to fill him with his cum, hopefully until he’s dripping, every inch of his walls coated. Just like Yoo Joonghyuk has promised in rough whispers, rutting against Kim Dokja’s thigh before cumming and rubbing his semen into Kim Dokja’s skin to mark him with his scent.
When did Kim Dokja become desperate for it?
Yoo Joonghyuk’s madness must be rubbing off on him. His eyes screw shut as Yoo Joonghyuk fills him, splitting him open on a cock too huge to be real. His cock pushes the air out of Kim Dokja’s lungs and fills it only with fire, burning him up from the inside out.
His vision goes white, his body arching into Yoo Joonghyuk’s touch—when he regains his senses, it’s to Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers in his mouth, slick with his own cum, and the man’s ragged voice in his ear.
“You’re too loud, Dokja-ya, they’ll hear you,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls, his tongue lapping at the tears spilling down Kim Dokja’s face as he ruthlessly fucks him on his desk. Despite his words, Yoo Joonghyuk looks pleased, a flush to his face as Kim Dokja drools around his fingers, saliva slipping out the corner of his mouth and down his face.
“Is that all you wanted?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks between thrusts, “Ten million won for me to fuck you? I could have given that to you whenever you asked. I can give you more." No, he could have done it for free. Kim Dokja tosses his head side to side, trying to hide his face; but Yoo Joonghyuk grabs his hands and yanks them above his head. They knock over Yoo Joonghyuk’s fancy desk plate, and it hits the ground with a heavy thud.
“You’re too rough, professor,” Kim Dokja pleads, “I can’t—”
“You can, Dokja-ya,” Yoo Joonghyuk promises, “You will. I’ll reward you.”
Does Yoo Joonghyuk mean money? He’s done everything but physically shower Kim Dokja in bills. The reward Kim Dokja wants isn’t money. He wants… he wants—
Someone knocks on the door. They freeze.
“Professor Yoo? Are you there, sir?” Kim Dokja’s eyes go wide, his face paling as he tries to wriggle out from under Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Stop,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs, before speaking louder, “My office hours are over.”
The student on the other side of the door clears her throat, “Yes… but I’ve been having trouble with the reading and I thought…”
“My office hours are over.”
Let me go, Kim Dokja mouths with an embarrassed scowl, pushing at Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders. Yoo Joonghyuk catches one of his hands, bringing it to his mouth and nipping at his fingertips. Kim Dokja’s heart skips a beat at the kiss Yoo Joonghyuk leaves on his palm, his gaze catching Kim Dokja’s and holding it.
Twenty million. Behave.
It’s not about the money, you stupid handsome man, Kim Dokja wants to scream. Kim Dokja starts to struggle, but Yoo Joonghyuk a slow grind of his hips has him stopping, arrested by the pleasure. The desk rattles under the force of his next thrusts, Kim Dokja biting on his cheek to stifle the surprised shout.
“Professor?” The voice asks, but Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t listening anymore, clutching Kim Dokja’s hands in his own as he kisses him with enough tongue to change Kim Dokja’s mind. Any amount of tongue is enough to change Kim Dokja’s mind when it comes to Yoo Joonghyuk. Eventually, they both forget about the interruption, and Kim Dokja gets lost to the quiet panting of Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath against his collarbone. His tongue laps at the sweat beginning to shine on Kim Dokja’s skin, having grown hot underneath Yoo Joonghyuk’s body heat pressing against his. For all his allure and charm, Yoo Joonghyuk kisses with too much fervor, and their teeth clack together.
It’s almost endearing, Kim Dokja thinks, to have this man be so full of ferocity. Even if he doesn’t understand why, he drowns in Yoo Joonghyuk’s desperation for him. Shamefully, each touch makes his body sing, and open up under Yoo Joonghyuk’s careful, meticulous care. Until he can’t tell up from down, left from right, whether or not he’s begging in his mind or if the pleas slip messily from his lips. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips stutter as he nears his orgasm, but instead of cumming inside him, he pulls out at the last moment. Hot cum splashes across Kim Dokja’s groin and lower abdomen, Yoo Joonghyuk is a heavenly vision above him. Yoo Joonghyuk smears his cockhead over the mess he’s left on Kim Dokja’s skin, watching with a satisfied expression as it drips down his sides onto his desk, the carpet below them.
He nudges his head back at Kim Dokja’s asshole, testing the easy give of the ring of muscle as he fucks him shallowly. Kim Dokja moans, squeezing each time Yoo Joonghyuk thrusts, unsure if he’s trying to keep Yoo Joonghyuk out or pull him in closer. His cock is still hard in his hand, shiny with his cum and Kim Dokja’s slick. Full, fat, and thick; Kim Dokja’s mouth waters at the sight. Yoo Joonghyuk has gone down on him so many times at this point that it would be unreasonable for Kim Dokja to not want to do so in return, right? Another time, maybe—
—Yoo Joonghyuk seems far from done.