The professor, absolutely done tried to dissipate the problem (Wooyoung and San) as he coaxed them to sit down. "I should start charging you both tuition for the therapy you clearly need." He shook his head.
So, as the tension hit dangerous levels—just as San's smirk faltered and Wooyoung's breathing sharpened—the professor clapped his hands together with enough force to snap everyone's attention back.
"That's enough," he announced, stepping forward. "Unless you two are about to demonstrate repression versus impulsivity in great detail, I suggest you sit down before I assign a 10-page paper on emotional immaturity."
The class collectively winced.
Wooyoung yanked himself back first, jaw tight, looking anywhere but at San. San, for once, said nothing. But his eyes? They flickered with something dark, something unreadable, before he slowly stepped away.
The professor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And to think this lesson was supposed to be concluding on the psychology of attraction."
The class exploded with entertained applause.
Whispers. Laughter. A few gasps.
Wooyoung felt his entire soul leave his body.
San? Oh, he was grinning again.
"See, professor?" he drawled, voice like silk. "I think we're demonstrating just fine."
Wooyoung lunged but the professor physically blocked him. "SIT. DOWN." He shouted, successfully making them plop themselves down, sulking until the class would end.
The second class was dismissed, Wooyoung bolted.
San let him—for about five steps.
Then, like a shadow, he was right there.
"You're really gonna keep running, baby?" San murmured, voice laced with amusement.
Wooyoung whipped around, furious. "Get lost."
San just smirked, stepping into his space. "You weren't saying that last time."
Wooyoung shoved him. "You—"
San caught his wrist and yanked him forward.
The air shifted. The fight in Wooyoung's chest tangled with something hotter, something reckless.
San's breath brushed against his lips. "Go on, professor," he whispered, mocking.
"Demonstrate some more."
Wooyoung was about to snap if not for the teeth biting softly on his lower lip, widening his eyes so much they hurt.
After a few seconds of heated eye contact Wooyoung cursed under his breath before his hands fisted San's hoodie, pulling him in, crushing their lips together in a furious, messy, undeniable kiss.
San groaned, thrilled, gripping Wooyoung's waist and flipping them so the younger was pressed against the wall. Their mouths moved in a battle neither of them wanted to lose, hands desperate, breath ragged.
San's fingers slid under Wooyoung's shirt, tracing fire up his spine. Wooyoung's grip tightened, his nails digging into San's skin through the fabric.
They devoured each other. Like this was the only way to settle anything.Like this was the only language they knew.
San was the one to break away first—just barely, lips brushing against Wooyoung's jaw.
And then, with a grin so infuriatingly smug Wooyoung nearly punched him—
"That's three now, professor."
The second San stopped blocking his view, Wooyoung saw it.
The audience.
Dead silence filled the hallway.
Wide eyes. Dropped jaws. A few people literally gasped.
Wooyoung's soul left his body.
"Holy shit," someone whispered.
"Oh my God," another gawked.
San, the absolute menace, just leaned in to leave a freaking peck on his swollen lips, looking completely unbothered. "Well," he mused, voice still husky. "Oops" he giggled.
Oops?
Wooyoung was about to commit a felony.
His breath hitched, his hands still clutching San's hoodie, his lips still tingling.
San leaned in, voice teasing. "Wanna go for four?"
Wooyoung shoved him, furious, flustered, FUCKED.
"I'M DROPPING OUT."
A/N
This is unedited still but I wanted to post it already because it was supposed to be posted hours ago.
I hope you liked this mess of a chapter 🤭❤️
YOU ARE READING
(no) Strings Attached
Fanfiction"Hey San... wanna fuck?" It was supposed to be enough. It was never enough.
