𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼 𝗢𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 ( 𝗢𝗻 𝗔𝗢3 ) 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

ᴅᴀᴍɴ ʙʀᴀᴛ 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱

The moment Minho sees him, he already knows what he's there for.

He already knows it'll be the worst summer he'll ever have.

He seethes.

Oh, his father promised him this, alright. With his jaw clenched, brows furrowed, and Minho's high school report card half-crumpled in his hand, Minho's father promised him an entire summer of torture.

Minho just never thought he'd actually go through with it.

He never thought his father could be that cruel.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Hwang," his father says cordially, with all the warmth he didn't have when he promised Minho an entire summer of learning. He smiles politely at the man, gesturing for him to sit on the modern Balinese sofa situated across the one where Minho sits with his twin brother, a low teak table the color of rich chocolate the only thing separating the space between them and saving the man from Minho's wrath.

"Please, call me Mr. Hyunnie," the man says, smiling at Minho's mother and father as he sits himself down on the sofa.

Minho glares intensely at the man, and he hopes that the breeze blowing through the open-air holiday home adds to the intimidating effect. Felix always tells him his eyes can be quite terrifying, and the lesser ones always break just from Minho's stare alone.

Felix holds Minho's hand in his own, running his thumb over the back of his hand.

Calm down, Minho knows he's trying to say. I'll talk to Dad about this.

Their father is a strict man, though. Minho knows there's no chance he'd waste money on yet another tutor and bring said tutor here, where they're supposed to be relaxing, so far away from Seoul—heck, so far away from Korea—just to send the tutor back home.

No. Their father's set on making Minho study during their goddamm vacation, and Minho's convinced they purposefully brought him out here instead of leaving him at home just so he can watch in misery as they relax while he's studying.

Minho wants to throw a tantrum.

(He knows he'll just get scolded more for it, though, so he only curls his hands into fists and digs his nails into his palms.)

Mr. Hyunnie doesn't budge from Minho's stare. When he meets Minho's eyes, he only gives him a bright, kind smile.

Minho almost scoffs.

So he's the sunshine kind.

The sunshine tutors are kind of like his brother Felix—but the Walmart version.

They always have optimistic hopes in the beginning, hopes so high even Brendon Urie's are put to shame, hoping to thaw Minho's "spoiled brat attitude" (a tutor's words, not his) with their encouraging words and warm smiles.

They have none of Felix's true sun, though—their sunshines are artificial, lukewarm.

So they're easily broken.

All of the sunshine tutors left, unsurprisingly, all of the sunlight in their bloodstream absolutely sucked dry by the despair Minho had made sure to so skillfully inject in them. Minho's parents always tried to call after them, asking them to teach Minho one more day, and they would be convinced—for a day or two, maybe—and then finally, they'd leave for sure, and Minho would triumph again.

He gives Mr. Hyunnie two days. Three, if he's being generous.

He looks like he'll break easily. Lanky and soft-hearted. After three days, he'd storm crying down the small mountain the holiday home stands on, never to look back again. Maybe he'd want to drown himself in the sea so he can quit teaching forever. Minho would be glad to help him with that.

Pity, Minho thinks. Mr. Hyunnie's so hot, too, but he just has to be his tutor.

Here is yet another heartbreaking tragedy of education ruining things for the new generation. Mr. Hyunnie can be modeling right now, or something. He definitely has the looks and build for it. Damn, better yet, he can be hooking up with Minho by the beach, and Minho can be showing him how well his hips can gyrate during the entirety of summer—but no, Minho will be forced to show him stupid pointless Calculus solutions or Algebra shit.

Pity he just has to be his tutor.

What is Mr. Hyunnie doing slaving away his life for something so pointless? He can be so much more (like Minho's boyfriend, for example).

"Minho," Felix whispers. He squeezes his hand. "I'll make sure you can go to the beach with me."

Ah. He knows Minho's been looking forward to the beach the most.

"As if Dad would let you," Minho grumbles.

He lets himself lean against Felix's side, just a little, taking his gaze off of his new tutor in favor of looking out at the greenery visible over the bamboo railing of the house, the deep blue of the ocean spread out until the horizon, which sparkles and calls out to Minho.

"Minho, this is Mr. Hyunnie," their father introduces. "He'll be teaching you over the course of the summer," he so helpfully provides, as if Minho didn't already know.

"Hi, Minho. I'm Mr. Hwang Hyunjin, but you can call me Mr. Hyunnie. I'm a high school teacher, but I've also tutored college freshmen like you, so you're in good hands," Mr. Hyunnie says, his smile turning his eyes into happy little crescents behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

The mole right under Mr. Hyunnie's eye tempts Minho to poke it not-so-gently, and he barely holds back the urge to grab the man's shoulder-length hair and use it to drag him to the railings and throw him down the mountain.

"Like me?" Minho says, tilting his head and stretching his lips into what he knows is a drippingly fake smile. He's had it practiced, for special situations like this."You mean assholes? Brats? Stupid id—"

"Minho," his father warns.

"I'd been called worse, Dad," he says. You should know.

Felix tells him their father doesn't mean it, that it's out of concern and worry and the heat of the moment whenever Minho talks back—and Minho knows it, too, he really does. It doesn't mean it hurts any less, though. At least he's used to it now, mostly.

"I'll be unpacking my bags in my room, if anyone needs me." Don't you dare bother me, his family knows he means. "Ciao."

He gives Mr. Hyunnie a threatening little side-glance as he stands up and walks past him, his suitcase in tow. Helplessly, everyone watches him go as he makes his way to his room—unlike the rest of the house, the bedrooms aren't open-air, private and safe enclosed with four solid walls, and Minho would very much love the privacy.

Once he reaches his room, he gladly slides the glass doors close, and lets the smooth, cool curtains fall and block out most of the sunlight and the rest of the world.

He stares around at his room.

There's a queen-sized bed in the middle, with hotel-white sheets and pillowcases and a brown bed scarf at the bottom of the bed, patterned the same as two odd pillows propped up against the white-cased ones. He sees two nightstands the same rich chocolate color as the bedframe, one on either side of the bed; Minho goes over to one and plugs in his charger in the socket underneath it, resting his phone on the surface. His phone's at less than half-life now from blasting music into his ears the entire trip. Even Ms. Minaj and Ms. Doja must get tired of repeating their own songs for Minho during the entire plane flight.

From this high up, there's an outstanding view of the trees that hug the entire holiday home outside, their wide leaves leaning in towards the glass windows as if to reach out and greet Minho. Minho gazes at the blue sky and how it stretches out to all directions, and sighs in content. And barely any fucking pollution, too.

It's a relaxing room to be in, really. It's straight out of a travel and luxury magazine, and Minho wants nothing more but to melt, to breathe in the smell of vacation in the air—except that the fact that he'd have to study all summer long looms over Minho's back like an annoying ghost, and he can't bring himself to relax fully.

He takes one of the brown pillows and slams it back on the bed, seething.

He's not a goddamn kid, for fuck's sake! He should have his freedom! Why is he being controlled over the summer—

Before he can do anything more, there's a soft knock on the glass doors. Minho's ready to send whoever the fuck is disturbing him after he just indirectly told everyone not to bother him away, but the knocks are then followed by a muffled "It's Lixie," and Minho relaxes.

Minho goes and unlocks the door, letting his twin brother in.

"Our rooms are identical, at least," Felix says, looking over the room. "I mean, we could just stay in the same room, the beds are big enough, but it would be a waste to leave one bedroom unoccupied."

"You can still sleep here with me if you want." Minho shrugs, laying his suitcase down on the floor and unzipping it. He stares at the clothes he's packed for a moment—mostly shorts and loose buttoned shirts, so he can move freely and feel the breeze on his skin as much as he can—then zips the suitcase back up, pushing it to the side.

His parents will probably store some of their clothes, at least the ones they'll use tomorrow and the day after, in the small closet in their room, but Minho is not in the fucking mood to do anything productive, thank you. He's already forced to study all summer; he's not taking his fucking clothes out like a good son.

Instead he jumps on the bed and grins when Felix jumps beside him, letting out a small noise of joy.

They giggle.

"The goddamn tutor stays in the third room, right?" Minho asks, letting Felix use his arm as a pillow. Felix snuggles into his side, closing his eyes and giving Minho one of his small smiles.

Sunshine. Even Felix's small smile radiates so much warmth. Unlike the sunshine tutors. Unlike Mr. Hyunnie.

Minho's so glad he has his brother.

"Yeah," Felix says, in that voice of his that makes people step back in surprise when they hear it for the first time. People can't quite connect that demonic voice to his fairy-like face, at first.

Minho loves that about him.

Felix is always a breath of fresh air, especially when he's not worried about their parents seeing him break society's boundaries.

Felix opens his eyes and looks at Minho.

"You're swimming with me on the beach," he says, as if it's a fact, not just two brothers' wish.

Minho hums.

"You're coming with us to the tourist town Mom and Dad's planning to visit. Heard there were cats there. I'm not sure if they're real cats or souvenirs, but they're cats, anyway." He grins.

Another thing Minho loves about Felix: he's a great goddamn brother.

"You know Dad won't let me," Minho grumbles, but he smiles at Felix nonetheless. "He wants me to choke on studying."

"If only I could stay and study with you, I would," Felix says, and it's genuine. He frowns to himself.

Minho clicks his tongue at him. "No, you've graduated high school with the highest honors. You deserve to relax, Lix. Do you want to die from all the studying that you do?"

"You deserve to relax too, then," Felix argues, "I know you could have graduated with the highest honors, too."

"I could have. Maybe." Minho clicks his tongue again. "But I didn't. That's what matters to people. What good would what if's do them?"

Felix opens his arms wide, waiting. Minho makes a face at him.

For all his bitchiness, though, when Felix stares at him, smiling, Minho still succumbs and snuggles into him, so now his arm is held at a weird angle just so Felix can keep pillowing his head on it.

"Besides," Minho says, muffled against Felix's tropical shirt, "Dad won't let you stay with me even if you asked. It's part of the punishment not to have any fun, and it would be fun if you were there."

"Don't call it a punishment."

"There's nothing else to call it."

"Adults just think doing good in school is the only way you can get a good life."

"Yes, and fuck them for it."

"It's true in some certain scenarios."

"I just don't see the point in wasting my life away for numbers that mean nothing."

Felix smiles at him. "I know." Then, "But you know for some people, studying is what fulfills them. It's what gives their life meaning." He makes a face. "Can't be me though."

Minho snickers. "Are you sure, Mr. Highest Honors?"

Felix hits him on the shoulder.

Then, softly, Felix runs his hand through Minho's hair, making Minho let out a sigh of content. This would probably be his last moment of peace before he's made to suffer at the hands of his new tutor.

"You know Mom and Dad loves you, right?" Felix whispers.

Minho stays quiet.

Then, "I know." He does.

Sometimes, though, just knowing isn't quite enough.

"If they really wanted to make you miserable, they would have left you in Seoul. They're still planning to let you go to the beach—they just need to see you work for it."

"I know."

Felix rubs soothing circles into his back. "They just want you to do well again and have a great life."

"I know."

"I'm here for you no matter what."

Minho sniffles, chuckling to hide it. He knows he's never able to hide things like that from Felix, but it doesn't stop him from trying, anyway. "Why are you acting like the hyung here? Ya! I'm older!"

"Only by a few minutes!" Felix retorts, but then he's giggling like a maniac as Minho assaults him with tickles to his sides, making him wriggle and writhe on the bed like a worm barraged with salt. Minho cackles evilly, amping it up until Felix is breathless, half-gasping, half-laughing on the sheets, trying to get back at Minho but failing miserably.

When they're done, Minho's sheets are a tangled mess, the brown bed scarf thrown to the ground sometime while Felix was trying to crawl his way out from Minho's flurry of tickles. Felix catches his breath, laying as still and limp on the bed as a ragdoll.

Minho sits up and looks down at him.

"You ruined my bed!" Minho complains, whining the most annoying whine he can muster and pointing at his sheets, pretending to be upset. He pouts at Felix with furrowed brows.

"It was your fault! You tickled me!"

"Fix it!" Minho demands. When Felix only lies there, his hair a mess from all the writhing around and his chest still heaving from it all, Minho stamps his feet and squeezes his eyes shut. "Fiiiiix iiiiit!"

"Fine, you big baby." Felix huffs and stands up to fix Minho's sheets. "Stand up," he tells Minho, tugging at the sheets currently trapped under Minho's butt.

Minho stares at him in that way Felix calls unnerving, blinking slowly but never moving, just to annoy Felix. It does, and Felix gives a childish whine of his own, trying to shove Minho off of the bed.

Another thing Minho loves about Felix: he might be the sweetest angel, but he's also so, so great at matching Minho's immature whims. Sometimes Minho feels like he's bantering with a mirror. "Get off, I can't fix it!" Felix says, giving an extra-hard push that almost topples Minho over. Minho's eyes widen at that and he gives out a surprised huff of laughter.

Minho would be damned if he let Felix win, though.

Oh, it's on.

Minho stares some more at Felix.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then he lets out a battle yell as he tackles Felix back down on the bed, starting another round of tickles.

Felix shrieks.

🌞

Felix ends up sleeping in Minho's room that night, going straight there to pester Minho after their (stupid) dinner with the (stupid) tutor. Mr. Hyunnie—who's twenty-five and oh, so young yet so skilled already, that's great (Minho rolled his eyes when his mother said that)—is all smiles and polite nods of his head as he talks with their mother and father, and their parents seem to love him already, showering him with praise and attention and urging him to try all the dishes laid out on the table.

That makes some part of Minho twist in envy.

He bites into his dinner and looks away instead, gazing at the green-and-blue expanse laid out below them, half-darkened by night and yet still beautiful, with the moon reflecting on the sea and the trees peacefully swaying in the wind.

He lets the cool night air calm him down. Felix wordlessly drops off a piece of the meat he knows Minho loves on Minho's plate, and gives him a true sunshine smile when he looks at him in question.

The next day, their dad nods and smiles at the two of them, telling Minho that Mr. Hyunnie's not going to tutor him yet since they did just arrive at the holiday home. Minho still would have preferred the beach, but he'll take the pool over tutoring any day, and he immediately runs to change into his swimwear before coming back out to jump in the hanging pool, the half of which juts out of the house's second floor and over the down-sloping ground of the mountain.

Minho hisses the moment his entire body submerges into the water—fuck, he didn't expect it to be too goddamn cold!

He starts to shiver, his teeth chattering as he laughs through the freezing cold of the water at Felix, who's in a similar state as him, hugging his body and letting out chilled breaths.

Their parents watch them for a moment, laughing as they splash some water onto Minho and Felix once the two have gotten a little used to the cold, their mom lifting the skirt of her dress up a little so she can dip her feet and ankles into the water while their dad takes photos of them messing around. The sun shines on the hanging edge of the pool, unrestricted by the thatched roof that covers the entire house, and over the glass railings, there's still a wide view of the trees and the sea.

Minho contents himself with pestering Felix, who's trying to peacefully swim like a dog around and around and around. He flicks his fingers in the water and sprays Felix's face, and Felix splutters, shaking his head as he tries to spray Minho back.

"Lixie, what are you doing? Minnie's beating you at this!" their mother calls out, laughing at Felix's wet, scrunched-up expression as Felix tries to wipe off the water dripping down his face. Minho cackles at that and only splashes more water at him.

"Mr. Hyunnie, join in," Minho hears their father say.

The fuck.

"Oh, it's alright," Mr. Hyunnie replies, chuckling.

"It's the least we can offer you," their dad urges. "We did just take your summer away from you and brought you out here just to tutor our son."

"Oh, I'd probably be only checking some schoolwork or going over my lesson plan right now if I weren't here. At least here, the view is nice and the place is relaxing." Mr. Hyunnie laughs. "And to be honest, I would never have been able to have a vacation here if you didn't bring me, so I should be thanking you as well, Mr. Lee."

The two men chuckle at that.

We'll see about relaxing, Minho thinks mischievously.

I'll make your summer so torturous you'd want to quit teaching forever.

Mr. Hyunnie does leave for some while, though, and soon enough Minho finds out why. Mr. Hyunnie comes back dressed in a thin white linen shirt and blue swimming trunks, slowly lowering himself down in the pool.

Unlike Minho and Felix, Mr. Hyunnie calmly wades around in the water, although he also visibly shivers from the cold, making Minho huff to himself. Minho wills the man to feel his stare, but Mr. Hyunnie either doesn't notice or doesn't pay him any mind.

Mr. Hyunnie laughs and agrees shyly when their mother asks him if it's alright to take photos of him for memories. Minho stares unnervingly at him all the while, but it's like there's a perpetual invisible shield around him that prevents Minho's gaze from penetrating through, and he just smiles when Minho's father tells the three of them to get closer and pose for a photo.

Felix gently tugs Minho closer to Mr. Hyunnie with a hand tangled in Minho's under the water. Felix greets Mr. Hyunnie warmly, too, and it makes Minho want to scoff.

Minho forces his lips into an empty smile. His father calls out, "Minho, smile more!"

Minho frowns and rolls his eyes as subtly as he can, but fixes his face into a better smile, anyway.

His father promised to take one photo but ends up taking so many, like he always does, that Minho's starting to get bored, tempted to tell his Dad to let them be and swim. When he does, his father makes them wait for a last photo, and the devil on Minho's shoulder acts up and whips a plan up, making him glance at the new tutor evilly.

Three.

As his father counts, Minho slowly wades closer to Mr. Hyunnie. Felix gives him a curious look from Mr. Hyunnie's other side, where he's posed for the photo, but Minho just smirks at him, lifting his eyebrows.

Two.

Minho gives the camera a wide, close-lipped smile.

One.

Minho lifts his hand to the water's surface and makes a quick, wide sweep—and suddenly Mr. Hyunnie's met with a wall of freezing water straight to the face.

He giggles and swims away from Mr. Hyunnie as the man gasps, wiping away the water dripping down his face with his hands. Felix gasps in surprise too as he swims away—some of the water caught him in the face as well, and he shakes his head like a wet kitty.

"Minho," his mother says, sighing.

"It's fun, right?" Minho smiles at Mr. Hyunnie.

"Hyunjin-ah, are you alright?" his mother asks.

"Yes, I'm alright." Mr. Hyunnie giggles, and that makes Felix smile and giggle with him, too.

"You look epic in the photo, Mr. Hyunnie," their father says, laughing..

Minho pouts.

It's not so fun when Mr. Hyunnie just giggles.

"Water fight, Mr. Hyunnie!" Felix says, flicking water at Mr. Hyunnie. Minho frowns at him in disappointment, because the baby-light, playful hand-splashes he's giving the tutor can barely be called sprinkles. He's holding back too much!

"That's not how you water fight, Lix," Minho reprimands, and with a cheshire cat grin and a wide sweep of his arms, he sends another wave of water hurtling towards Mr. Hyunnie.

This is for the torture I'll have to endure because of you over the summer' he thinks, as he sends a wave to Mr. Hyunnie. This is for your fake sunshine. Another wave, and Mr. Hyunnie shields his face. This is for the fake words of wanting to help me learn, in advance. Some teachers were like that, doing a lukewarm job of teaching, just for the money—and the Lees' had ample enough of that, ample enough to make all those teachers pretend to like Minho when they didn't. Did they think Minho wouldn't know they didn't care?

Wave after wave after wave of water hurtle towards Mr. Hyunnie; the vicious splashing of water sounds like music to Minho's ears, and he laughs. This is fun, actually.

"Minnie," Felix calls, trying to pull Minho out of his thoughts.

Oh, he can't actually drown Mr. Hyunnie. Right.

Minho forgot that nobody can take his aggressive energy except for his brother.

But...

Mr. Hyunnie just giggles some more as Minho bombards him with water, only shielding his face from Minho's attacks.

It's too late when Minho sees Mr. Hyunnie's arm moving and making a wide sweep of its own—and before he knows it his face is being hit with a forceful assault of freezing water, making him squeeze his eyes shut and gasp, staggering back.

There's an arm around his torso before he can fully stumble back, though, not letting his head submerge under the water.

"Sorry, are you okay?" Mr. Hyunnie asks, a soft smile on his face and concern in his eyes.

Minho blinks the water out of his eyes and pushes away from Mr. Hyunnie. He thinks he's so strong, Minho fumes, he thinks Minho's weak and needs his help, the bastard, and he sends another wave of water splashing into Mr. Hyunnie's face just to catch the man off-guard, this time less playful and more angry, before he swims towards the stairs set in the corner of the swimming pool, rising out of the water.

"I'm tired, I'm going to my room. Ciao," he grumbles out, walking away and dripping water behind him.

So the sunshine tutor fights back.

That's a first, at least.

That's interesting.

🌞

Minho wakes up to insistent knocking.

He groans once he wakes up fully, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and gathering all the awareness that he can. He stretches a little on the mattress, its soft warmth beckoning him to just sink deeper into it and never stand up ever again, but the knocking persists, and he lets out an annoyed cry as he pulls himself out of bed and angrily brushes the curtains off of the glass doors.

His father gives him a look once he slides open the doors. "Your tutoring session with Mr. Hyunnie starts in an hour. Dress up and eat breakfast with us."

"It's literally eight am!" Minho protests.

"Yes," his father says, "late enough, so hurry up. Mr. Hyunnie's been awake since hours ago."

I'm not Mister-fucking-Hyunnie, am I? Minho bites his tongue, and pleads instead, "It's summer break." He looks at his father helplessly. "Can't I at least get enough sleep?"

"If you slept early," his father reasons, "you would have had enough sleep by eight am. It's your fault you sleep so late always texting with your girlfriend."

Minho tries his best, really fucking tries, to contain the frustration that buzzes through his body at that, curling his fingers and digging his nails into his palms.

This is what he hates most, he mentally hisses, these accusations that his father doesn't even have any proof to base on. His father might say it half-jokingly, but it gets on Minho's nerves nonetheless.

The irony is what grits at him the most, though. What fucking girlfriend? Minho's gay as fuck.

"I told you I don't have a girlfriend," he spits out.

"Sure," his father says, shrugging, not a hint of belief in his tone. "Since you're not allowed to get a girlfriend until you graduate."

What am I, a girl living in the medieval era? Minho's not even interested in a fucking relationship. His father's words make him cringe. So embarrassing...for his father.

Minho only narrows his eyes as his father leaves him alone, holding onto the door so tightly he's surprised it doesn't break.

They could have at least sent Felix instead. Minho would have woken up feeling much better if it were Felix who woke him up. Although maybe they thought the two would mess around first before getting ready.

Minutes later, Minho throws himself down on the seat beside his brother's in the dining table. Felix looks over at him with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Minnie." Ah, why does the sun in the sky even try?

"Morning," Minho grumbles, glaring up at Mr. Hyunnie, who's sat across from him. "But I'm not sure about 'good.'"

"Good morning, Minho-ya," is Mr. Hyunnie's only reply, eyes upturned into silly little crescents. Bubbly like Jisung, Minho thinks, bitter. Really Minho's type, if only he weren't the thorn in Minho's side this summer.

Minho could be banging him on the beach, but instead he's forced to be taught by this bitch like he's some grade-school kid.

Maybe that's what makes Minho so angry—not Mr. Hyunnie himself, but the fact that someone so hot and so close is meant to make Minho suffer instead. If Minho didn't know their father didn't know he was gay, he would've thought this was his biggest punishment.

Maybe he's just mad that he can't get what he wants this time.

The pleasant breeze here never leaves, so it weaves gently through their hair and clothes as they eat, lulling Minho into calmness. Minho's parents make idle chatter with Mr. Hyunnie, and Minho and Felix stick to their conversations of Doja's latest songs and Ryan Reynolds and Felix's cute little cottage in Minecraft. Jisung's pulled Felix into playing the game, with some help from Minho and Chan. He prefers building houses and all that; Minho just wants to kill Jisung and steal his loot every chance he gets.

That little shit always has stacks of iron, the bitch. Although sad for him that Minho always gets his shit. What can Minho say, the ones at the top never do the work themselves—they take. Medieval kings would have agreed.

"You like Doja Cat?" Mr. Hyunnie asks suddenly. That makes Minho look up at him and observe him; he's smiling, like he always is.

Minho squints his eyes at Mr. Hyunnie suspiciously, but Mr. Hyunnie only smiles and waits for Minho to answer, fiddling with the silver ring on his left hand. It doesn't look like a gesture of nervousness—more like a habit that he's not even aware of.

"Yes, we do," Felix answers for him.

"Well, she's sexy," their father says and grins, chuckling at their mother who gives him a playful look. "Not as sexy as my wife," he quips, making their mother and Mr. Hyunnie laugh, "but you know, boys."

Minho rolls his eyes as subtly as he can. All these fucking assumptions.

"She makes great music," Mr. Hyunnie says. Then, "We should play Minecraft sometime." He smiles at Felix.

Felix perks up at that. "You play?"

Minho rolls his eyes, this time not so subtly.

So he sees Mr. Hyunnie is wriggling his way into Minho's family's hearts.

Let him see what good that does him.

Soon enough they're done with breakfast, and Minho's standing up to go back to his room before his mother calls out to him.

"Minho-ya, where are you going? You and Mr. Hyunnie will study here." She turns to Mr. Hyunnie. "If you're okay here, Hyunjin-ah?"

And she didn't ask Minho? What injustice is this?

Mr. Hyunnie nods politely. "Definitely. Thank you. I'll just get our things." He stands up and disappears into the room he's staying in.

Minho only stares at them, glum as he sits his ass back down, and then he looks down at the table and runs his tongue over his teeth.

They're seriously doing this. Some part of him was hoping it was all some sick joke, that his parents would decide to just treat Mr. Hyunnie to a nice vacation and let Minho off, no matter how stupid that sounded even to Minho's own ears. But it's happening. It's real.

"You wait for Mr. Hyunnie here," his father tells him, one hand on his mother's waist as they start to walk back into their room.

"Can I stay with Minho?" Felix asks, but his father only frowns and shakes his head.

"Come with us, Felix. Your mother wants to have a dip in the pool this time." He beckons Felix closer, and Felix can only give Minho a dejected look before coming over to join them. "We're going to the beach tomorrow."

Minho perks up at that, but all his hopes are quickly squashed when his father says "But Minho will stay with Mr. Hyunnie to study."

Minho blinks at that.

He scrambles for a reason, blurting, "Wouldn't you let Mr. Hyunnie go to the beach, too—"

"Not tomorrow. Maybe you should study well so Mr. Hyunnie can come to the beach soon," his father says, a challenge in his voice.

He slings a hand over Felix's shoulders and leads both him and their mother away, chuckling about something with their mother.

They look like a nice happy family.

Minho glares at their backs—half-mad, half-envious.

The sound of a chair being dragged out from the table snaps him out of the mini pity party he's started, making him turn back around to face Mr. Hyunnie. The man carefully arranges papers, books, and pens on the table in front of Minho.

He brought all these all the way out here. At least he's persistent in the beginning.

Minho will see about that persistence, after a tutoring session or two.

Minho watches him like a hawk while he arranges their things, still half-upset over the fact that he has to study instead of enjoying his vacation like he's supposed to.

Game on, then.

Glaring, Minho projects his anger into nudging a pen to roll off of the table, not even bothering to hide the fact that it was on purpose. It makes a sharp clatter against the floor when it falls.

Mr. Hyunnie doesn't even flinch, only looks up at Minho. Minho meets his gaze, unwavering.

Mr. Hyunnie only bends and picks the pen back up, placing it back on the table without a word.

Minho slowly slides a piece of paper to the edge of the table, and he almost succeeds in making it fall—but Mr. Hyunnie immediately sees what he's doing and grabs the paper, returning it back to the center of the table safely.

"I would appreciate it if you don't push things off of tables," Mr. Hyunnie says, still so bubbly and smiley. "You're not a cat, if I'm not wrong."

"What if you're wrong?" Minho retorts, just to fuck with him. "Meow."

"I doubt I am." Mr. Hyunnie looks at Minho as he sits down.

Then suddenly he grins, confident and cocky, and the sudden deviation from the sunshine impression Minho has of him tilts Minho off-balance. "I'm almost never wrong."

Minho's quick to compose himself, though. He lifts a brow. Mr. Hyunnie only adjusts his gold-rimmed glasses, before he arranges the papers Minho's mischievously scattered, looking as unruffled as ever.

"Before we begin, I'd like to establish some rules."

The sudden shift to business mode takes Minho off-guard, too.

Mr. Hyunnie's voice feels almost cold without his usual easygoing sunshine energy; his voice radiates no-nonsense, no-bullshit energy, like he knows Minho will listen.

Nobody dared to do that before—some of the teachers and tutors who pretended to be tough tried, but they wavered after Minho's insistent poking and prodding. Minho calls them the volcano type.

If they explode, Minho explodes harder—and then it's only a matter of who runs out of fire first, and it's never Minho. Fire is practically his blood.

Well, he thinks, Mr. Hyunnie will waver, too.

"I only have four rules," Mr. Hyunnie says. "You're an adult now; I know you know what rules are for already, and it'll be easy for you to follow them at all times."

Minho scoffs. "Rules. Like I'm a four-year-old—"

"Adults follow rules, too," Mr. Hyunnie interrupts him. "Don't think rules are only for kids."

He glances at Minho, then, and gives him a little smile—but it's not the sunshine kind, no, more like the sweltering high-noon sun of the Southeast, beating down on Minho unforgivingly. "Maybe you can even go to the beach early if you follow them."

He looks up at Minho, a challenge in his eyes. Minho grits his teeth.

"One," Mr. Hyunnie begins, "you can call me Mr. Hyunnie outside of our sessions, but during our tutoring sessions, you must call me Sir."

Minho scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms.

"Two," Mr. Hyunnie continues before Minho can say anything, "you must be here, sitting on this dining table ready and prepared, by the time our session is set to begin."

Minho scoffs some more.

Nobody even dared to impose schedules on him. He only showed up to his sessions, barely on time, because it was his father who made him; and without his father there, Minho barely arrived at all. He cocks his head, raising his brows at Mr. Hyunnie. "So I should be here everyday by nine am, is that what you're saying?"

"Precisely." Mr. Hyunnie nods in satisfaction. "Unless we discussed a different time beforehand."

Minho's jaw falls open at that, but Mr. Hyunnie's already saying, "Three, you must avoid foul language and talk to me politely, and respond whenever I ask a question. Four," he says, carefully placing the papers back on the table with an air of finality, "you are to focus fully on our lesson—and solely on our lesson—unless I allow you to take a break. Even grade-schoolers can follow these rules easily, so I expect you, an adult, to follow them at all times."

Minho looks at Mr. Hyunnie. Blinks.

He laughs.

"The fuck?" Minho says through his giggles. At least he doesn't see Minho as a child anymore. Still, this is stupid. "What are you, the law?"

"Well..." Mr. Hyunnie smiles at Minho. Mocking. Smug. Confident. "During our sessions, I am the law, so you do have to follow me." When Minho opens his mouth to answer, he adds, "I'm sure your father would agree. Also, you've just broken rule number three, but I'll let you off this time."

"What can you do if I don't follow your stupid rules?" Minho leans his cheek on his palm, pouting at Mr. Hyunnie. "Nothing."

"For starters, I can add five additional questions to your assessment quizzes every time you break the rules." Mr. Hyunnie lifts a finger to his lips, pretending to be deep in thought (Minho bitterly eyes his very plump lips). "I can also give some suggestions to your father."

"You think my father would choose your word over mine?"

"Your father," Mr. Hyunnie says, "is a reasonable man. He doesn't tolerate his son's bad behavior. He'd definitely choose my word over yours."

Minho lifts a brow, poker-faced.

Mentally, he screams fuck.

The rich spoiled son was his greatest weapon. He always pulled a Draco Malfoy as his last resort, "I'll tell my father" his final word whenever he made trouble and the tutors tried to fight back. The tutors always fell for it, afraid for their money and their job, never knowing Minho's father would much easier believe them than he would Minho.

Fuck it.

Mr. Hyunnie saw through it so easily.

Mr. Hyunnie pouts at Minho. The fuck? "It would be a pity if you never got to swim on the beach."

Minho's jaw falls open; then he glares at him, blood boiling. "You wouldn't dare." Not the beach.

"I would." Mr. Hyunnie hums. "And you know I could, too."

There's a beat of silence as Minho seethes.

"I assume you understand my rules now," Mr. Hyunnie says. "Do you need me to repeat them?"

Minho only levels him with his unnerving stare.

"I've made many tutors cry," he warns—slow, sweet, deadly, "and many tutors quit."

It's become a game to him, ever since the first one tried to preach to him about studying hard and getting a good life and making his parents proud. That's what a great boy like Minho could do, the first tutor said, grow into a great man and turn the world into his oyster.

No doubt the tutor meant it to be inspiring, but a week later Minho showed the tutor what a greater boy could do and made that misogynistic, elitist fucker eat a handful of the fake flowers his mother so carefully arranged on their dining table at home. He really hadn't meant to, but the tutor kept spewing shit; in the end, the only remorse Minho felt was for his mother's ruined flowers, which she easily arranged again. Besides, he sees no point in making his parents proud. They're used to his achievements in elementary; he doubts they still even get surprised at all.

(Well, they're plenty surprised when Minho didn't have a single A in his card during freshman year of high school. That was the first time in a long while they fussed over his report card like that—although for a vastly different reason, Minho supposes.)

"I'm looking forward to adding you to my list," Minho says, smiling at Mr. Hyunnie cheerfully. He eyes the wooden tissue holder in the middle of the table. If Mr. Hyunnie talks too much like his first tutor, Minho thinks tissues are just as effective as fake flowers.

"So we're both kind of legends," Mr. Hyunnie shoots back, just as cheerfully, sending Minho another easy smile. "I've made many students graduate with great grades and greater manners." He cocks his head, a bit. "I'm looking forward to adding you to my list."

There's a beat of silence when they only stare each other down, waiting for the other to back away, to waver. To break.

Neither of them does.

Minho clicks his tongue.

So maybe Mr. Hyunnie has four days.

Easy enough still.

"I thought we could call you Mr. Hyunnie?" Minho jabs, just to see what makes Mr. Hyunnie boil. He needs a bit more prodding; this man doesn't follow the standard sunshine tutor pattern. He's up for the challenge, though. "Now you're telling me to call you Sir. You're inconsistent. That's not very teacher-like."

"Usually I'd just let my students call me that," Mr. Hyunnie replies, looking straight into Minho's eyes, "but some students need to be trained to respect authority."

Trained? What, does he see Minho as a dog? That grits at Minho, but he persists, leaning further over the table. "Is that so?" he says. "You think you're authority."

"I don't think," Mr. Hyunnie answers, not leaning away or wavering in his gaze. "I know I'm authority, and you should, too."

Minho scoffs. "Hyunnie—"

"Sir," Mr. Hyunnie corrects. "Rule number one. You don't want to make a Pisces angry. We have a flair for the dramatic."

Minho quirks a brow. "So you have a reputation of being able to bend even the most stubborn of students." Minho smiles at him without humor. "I think I'd enjoy breaking that reputation."

Just quit already, goddammit. Minho has a feeling that the sooner Mr. Hyunnie's gone, the better. Something tells him he can't let this drag on, the way he played with some of the tutors before. Else he'd be the one getting played. He needs to shut down Mr. Hyunnie—quick and fast and cruel.

To his shock, though, Mr. Hyunnie laughs—honest to god laughs, his voice high and bright, like Minho's so amusing, like Minho's such a joke, yet how he manages to still make it sound mocking, Minho doesn't know. It makes his blood boil even more.

"I remember Gyu and Hyuka saying something like that. 'We'd enjoy breaking you, Mr. Hyunnie.' They were called the troublemakers of their class. Everyone listened to them because they're loud and unruly and attention-seeking—at least, that's what their teachers said. I just saw two boys who always stepped forward and made their class feel alive. Potential leaders." He smiles at Minho. Minho's baffled why it looks so genuine. "They're lined up for high honors when they graduate high school this coming year. We go out for lunch sometimes. San and Wooyoung give me gifts during Christmas. They used to just call me Hwang, but they're very polite now, always calling me Mr. Hyunnie. I can tell you more, but I know you're not interested in my students."

Minho stares at him, wordless. Mr. Hyunnie continues on.

"It'd be such a great story to tell people, you know—how Lee Minho used to be such a brat, but he's so good now. Maybe Lee Minho would give me gifts during Christmas, too. People would be so curious how that happened. I'm curious as well." Mr. Hyunnie's doing it again—he's playing with the silver ring on his finger almost absentmindedly, but he keeps his eyes on Minho.

It makes Minho feel seen. He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad one.

"I'd enjoy working with you," Mr. Hyunnie says, finally.

Minho only blinks at him.

What kind of masochistic man is this tutor to say he'd enjoy working with someone who's making it clear that he wants to make his life a living hell?

"You talk too much," Minho says instead. The tissues on the table are starting to tempt him. Minho wants to spit more fire than that, but he can't think of anything else at the moment. That's a first; he's good at running his mouth, usually.

Mr. Hyunnie just hums, the fond smile on his face earlier now gone, replaced by the no-nonsense, no-bullshit attitude from earlier. "Anyway, it'll be no good to waste any time. I'm sure you want to swim in the pool too with your family." Mr. Hyunnie picks out a paper from his stack and slides it over the table to Minho. "For now, we'll do an assessment test, so that I know what areas you're strong and weak on, and what I have to teach you for the rest of the summer."

He taps at the paper, where Minho sees various questions printed. "Obviously, we can't study every subject, but I heard you're going for architecture in college. We'll focus on numbers and Physics, then, and English, too."

Minho blinks down at his paper. True enough, he sees some Calculus and other number problems, graphs and curves and functions, kinematics and momentum and other Physics shit, but he doesn't mind those much. What his eyes are bulging at are the English grammar and vocabulary questions on the second page.

It's always been his weakest subject. Not like he did well on the other ones during high school—he's made sure he didn't—but English...he can understand the language, sure, but he's not the most fluent, goddamn this tutor.

"English?" Minho complains. "We are in Korea! We are Koreans. We speak Korean!"

"Well, literally, we're not in Korea right now," Mr. Hyunnie quips, "so I guess your argument is invalid."

Minho gapes at that in disbelief.

"You can start the assessment," Mr. Hyunnie says, handing him a pen.

Minho blinks.

He blinks at the paper. At the pen being handed to him. Back at the paper. At Mr. Hyunnie.

Mr. Hyunnie tilts his head. "Do you have any questions?"

Minho blinks. Lifts the first page in the air—right in front of Mr. Hyunnie's face.

And then slowly, carefully, he rips it down the middle, the sharp tearing noise ASMR to his ears.

He makes sure to keep his face level the entire time, ripping the paper until he's holding two uneven halves in his hands. He does the same with the rest of the pages, never taking his eyes away from Mr. Hyunnie's even for a single second.

He blinks rapidly at Mr. Hyunnie when he's done, putting down the last pieces of paper, careful like he's holding priceless porcelain instead of the sad torn pieces of Mr. Hyunnie's damn assessment.

"No," he says.

Kind of like that one Bugs Bunny meme.

Mr. Hyunnie only looks at him.

Then, sporting a poker face of his own, Mr. Hyunnie reaches to the stack of books and papers situated to their side, pulling out some new sheets. He puts them down on the table and then slides them over to Minho the same way he did with the first pages earlier—and like Minho, he never breaks eye contact through it all.

Minho looks down at the papers, curious.

He furrows his brows in disbelief when he sees the exact same questions printed on the new sheets.

Mr. Hyunnie only gives a small smile when Minho looks back up at him in surprise. "You're not very original. I'm almost disappointed." He clicks his tongue. "You think you're the first student to do that?"

Minho sneers and rips the papers to shreds, this time quick and aggressive, wasting no time. Still, Mr. Hyunnie only hums and gets more pages—to Minho's horror, ones printed with the same exact questions.

"If I have no more papers left, I'll just have to ask your father for more and make you answer the questions manually using a digital copy of the assessment," Mr. Hyunnie says, "although I'll have to explain to your father why I needed more paper..."

Minho tenses up at that.

Minho, at that moment, suddenly understands what it's like to be an animal backed into a corner with nowhere to go—and like an animal, he turns desperately aggressive.

He grabs the papers from Mr. Hyunnie's hand and slams them down on the desk, grabbing the pen in Mr. Hyunnie's hand forcefully before swatting Mr. Hyunnie's hand away. He glares down at the stupid questions, and then presses pen to paper and goes to work.

"You have thirty minutes."

"Do you think I can finish this in thirty minutes?" Minho spits out, eyes blazing.

"Fine. One hour should suffice."

The minutes trickle by slow as dripping honey but not as sweet as it, Minho covering the paper from Mr. Hyunnie's sight by covering the top with his forearm, sneaking a glare up at Mr. Hyunnie once in a while. Mr. Hyunnie only gives him a smile everytime he does, though.

Somewhere in the vacation house, he hears the splashing of the pool water as his family swims, and he sits boiling in bitter misery as he scribbles on his paper.

It's five minutes to an hour before Minho exclaims and picks his papers up, throwing them in Mr. Hyunnie's general direction. Mr. Hyunnie skillfully grabs them in the air before they can fall, poker-faced. Minho looks at him, waiting.

Sick delight runs through Minho's blood when Mr. Hyunnie sighs and puts the papers down.

"What is this?" Mr. Hyunnie asks.

"That's Jureumi," Minho says, voice light and happy and absolutely evil, pointing one overly-delicate finger at his drawing. Jureumi rides a bike up the steep curve of a quadratic function, before another Jureumi falls on the other side, flailing its arms about as its speech bubble screams Hyunshit!

"These are Soonie, Doongie, and Dori," he helpfully supplies, pointing at the little doodled cats scattered around the paper, meowing. Minho blinks cutely at Mr. Hyunnie. "My cats. They're cute, right?"

Mr. Hyunnie gives a snorted sort of laugh, nodding as he studies the three doodled cats. "Yes, they're very cute. I want to pet them. Maybe them and Kkami would be great friends."

Minho did not expect that answer, so he's taken aback for a moment, blinking rapidly.

He tries not to let Mr. Hyunnie's smile get to him—well, it's not his fault, Mr. Hyunnie's just good at pretending to be genuinely interested in Minho's beloved children. Minho almost wishes he could have taken the three here, to see what Mr. Hyunnie would do with them, before he waves the thought off.

Minho can't stop the curiosity poking at him, so he stops his taunting to ask, "Who's Kkami? Is that another cat?" Minho would love to see another cat. Mr. Hyunnie has a cat? That earns him one—but only one—brownie point.

"No, he's a dog." Mr. Hyunnie smiles, so wide and bright and genuine. "My little baby angel."

"Won't he hurt my kitties?" Minho asks, eyes narrowed accusingly. Mr. Hyunnie won't be earning a brownie point, after all.

"No, he's very friendly." Mr. Hyunnie smiles. "But he might bark at a tiger like you."

Minho only gives him a half-glare.

He pushes on. "This is you," Minho sing-songs, pouring all the fake enthusiasm he can in his words, pointing to a poop doodled in the center with glasses similar to Mr. Hyunnie's. It's the biggest doodle out of them all, and beside it, a big hand with the middle finger raised up is skillfully drawn, in Minho's opinion. He should be a realist painter, really.

A big, screaming FUCK YOU is written in Minho's messiest handwriting.

Mr. Hyunnie only hums. "I thought I told you to answer the questions, not doodle on the paper."

Not a single answer is written on the paper.

"Oh, really?" Minho asks sweetly, standing up. He leans over the table and looks at Mr. Hyunnie, pushing his face into his space.

"I don't care."

Minho turns to leave, but before he does, he throws a grin over his shoulder and waves his hand.

"Ciao."

He leaves Mr. Hyunnie to his ripped paper pieces.

🌞

Before breakfast is fully done, Minho's parents announce that they're going to the beach down the mountain. Minho sulks in his seat, Felix squeezing his hand before leaving when their parents tell him to dress up and prepare. He glares at Mr. Hyunnie, because it's his fault that Minho's stuck in this goddamn house while his family enjoys the beach.

"Let me get our materials. We'll start in five minutes." Mr. Hyunnie stands up and disappears into his room.

Minho only glares at him sullenly.

He stands up and stretches, intent on having fun before his torture begins anew.

He walks to the bamboo railings, looking out over the nice view of the trees and the sea. He pulls his phone out, and video calls Jisung.

It rings for some moments, and Minho almost pouts in annoyance and ends the call, but then his call gets accepted.

"Minnie." Jisung smirks at Minho through the camera when the call starts, the low internet connection here in the vacation home—Minho's father said something about getting off of technology and spending time with family, but that was hypocritical, seeing as Minho was left behind by his family—pixelating his face. Still, it does nothing to dampen the attractive features that have hooked Minho in time and time again ever since they became classmates during junior year, and Minho grins back at his stupid (but hot) idiot friend (with benefits).

"Sungie." Minho whines for show, bringing his phone close to his face. Jisung's camera is moving like he's moving his phone around trying to get a better angle, and Jisung stops and moves again in aborted bursts due to the lag. Minho pouts at that, but he manages. "I hate it here."

"Why? Thought you wanted to go to the beach," Jisung says, his voice crackling and cutting off at times because of the shitty connection. Minho sees as Jisung finally relaxes against the headboard of the bed he's on—it's the bed in his room (god only knows Minho has the sight committed to memory).

Minho flips the camera for a moment to show Jisung the view of the mountains and the beach, and Jisung lets out one of his obnoxious, over-the-top noises of amazement, which Minho rolls his eyes at. "Are you kidding? I would sell my soul for a chance to spend at least a day there."

"I would, too," Minho says, and he pouts at the camera again, "if I weren't stuck being tutored, goddammit!"

Jisung blinks at the screen for a moment—and then he bursts out laughing.

"Seriously? Your father really went on with his promise?" He cackles, and suddenly Minho's not so amused anymore, narrowing his eyes at Jisung.

"I will not let you fuck my ass for three months if you keep this up."

"Sweet kitty, I was just kidding," Jisung placates, and he's so plastic with it Minho can't stop the huffed giggle that rises from him. He weaves his finger through the loop on his phone case and leans his forearms on the railing, looking down at his phone. "I'll reward you for studying well once summer break's over, yeah?" Jisung looks at him, biting his lip and letting his eyes go lidded.

Minho didn't expect the sudden blatant seduction, but at the same time, he did—it's Jisung, after all. He bites his lip too, the corner of his mouth curling up in delight. "As if I'd study, though."

"Well, if you don't, I'd just have to punish you for it—right, kitty?"

Familiar heat surges through Minho's blood, and he smiles mischievously. He can't wait for this summer to be over already. He'll ride Jisung's cock so hard once they're back.

"By the way, your tutor's there with you in your vacation home? How is he? Or she? They?" Jisung lets out a soft noise.

Minho furrows his brows slightly before he realizes.

"Ya!" He widens his eyes at the phone. "Are you jerking off while talking to me?"

"It's not my fault you called while I was getting ready to relax, babe." Jisung only chuckles at his mortified look. He lets his eyes fall close and throws his head back against the headboard, giving an exaggerated moan that Minho knows is all for show, to tease him.

Minho decides to ignore Jisung's shenanigans for now; it's not the first or the worst bullshit he's ever pulled with Minho. "The tutor's here, alright. Ruining my summer. He tried to impose rules on me and make me answer this assessment shit." He scoffs. "As if I will."

"Assessment? What, is he an old geezer?" Jisung laughs at his own joke but then groans when Minho tilts head. "Yes, like that, show more of your neck, babe."

Minho rubs his thighs together—he doesn't want to admit it to himself, and much especially to Jisung (his ego would get so big, for fuck's sake) but this call is affecting him making him feel things. Fuck, their tutoring session's in five minutes.

Minho bares his neck more and curves it prettily for the camera, delighting in the attention and Jisung's "So pretty for me, kitty," and he decides that fuck it, Mr. Hyunnie and his assessment test can go fall down the mountain and drown in the beach.

"No, he's pretty young. He's twenty-five." When Jisung nods and exclaims that yes, he's indeed young, Minho grins mischievously. "He's hot, too. If he weren't my stupid tutor, I would've jumped him right away in the car even before we got here."

"What, my cock doesn't satiate you anymore, kitty?" Jisung teases, grinning at Minho. "You're replacing me? I'm hurt." He pouts in faux-sadness.

"Fuck off. I know you'd replace me as soon as Felix starts giving you attention."

Jisung gasps dramatically. "I will not!"

Minho frowns playfully at him. "By the way, I'm telling you, he is not into Chan. That guy's like, our third cousin or something. You should just make a move, you dumbass."

"I don't know if he likes me back. You don't tell me anything, which reminds me—what kind of twin and wingman are you?!"

"I swear he doesn't tell me anything about you! I'm going in blind here, too!"

"So how do you expect me to make a move? What if Felix isn't interested?"

"You can try!"

"I would, but...you know better than anyone about your situation."

Right. Their parents don't know about his and Felix's...preferences. God, Minho blanches just thinking about the time when his poor brother had to lie and pretend he was dating a girl while he was with this Seungmin dude. To this day Minho still doesn't understand why Felix would do that just to please their parents—but then again, Felix has always loved to please their parents, one of the reasons he's still working hard on his studies and trying to be the perfect son Minho will never be. Maybe their attitudes are really just different. Minho will never force himself into a mold he doesn't fit in.

(But he's always loved to please their parents, too, and he guesses that's where the conflict comes from—he can't get the attention and praise he wants, as a consequence of going against them, and it makes their situation worse, makes it an unending cycle.)

"You can try. You two can recreate the shtick with Seungmin." Minho giggles.

"No, thanks. Besides, I can't just bang a twin and then date the other twin, babe." Jisung chuckles.

"Don't tell me you're falling in love with me, Han Jisung."

Jisung gags—Minho doesn't know if he should be honored or offended that Jisung momentarily stops his jerk-off session just to show that he has no intention of getting with Minho like that. "Ew, gross. You're like my brother, Hyung."

Minho lifts a brow. "You fuck your brothers often?"

"Fuck off, that's disgusting! Why do you say it like that?" Jisung makes a face at him. "Don't say things like that when I'm jerking off." When Minho only cackles at him evilly, Jisung returns to calmness. "Okay, tell me more about the hot young tutor."

"He's hot. If he weren't such a dick I'd have gone to my knees for him and took his cock down my throat." Minho shrugs. "But that's the thing—he is a dick. Thinks he's so great just because he's a teacher with a big reputation." He curls his upper lip. "He's not even a professor yet. He's just a high school teacher. Idiot thinks he can teach me. Ha, he'll be quitting after a day or two, believe me."

"Please make up your mind. Do you want to kill him, or do you want to bang him?"

Minho grins. "I want to suck his cock off on the beach and let him throw me around on the sand," he says, "but the urge to drown him in the sea is much stronger. I'll be ruining his summer like he's ruining mine."

"Damn, babe, you look so pretty when you're murderous," Jisung jokes, and Minho gives him one of his failed winks. Jisung's arm starts moving again; Minho can only imagine what the fuck he's doing. "You're gonna make his life a living hell for me, kitty?"

"Why do you always enable me? You're such a bad influence." Minho grins. "But yes, I'm going to make his life a living hell. Make sure he quits teaching forever." When Jisung lets out a soft noise of pleasure, Minho bites his lip and blinks, slow and sweet, in that way he knows Jisung loves to see. "He might be able to tame other students, but not me."

"That's right. Only I can tame the great Lee Minho, right?" Jisung looks at him with half-lidded eyes, biting his lip. Minho almost whines because it's unfair that he's stuck here in this damn hell-disguised-as-paradise and he can't bite Jisung's lips himself.

"Yes, Sir." Minho giggles.

They both know he's not really..."tamed." He lets Jisung have his way with him, but they both know he makes the rules in each and every one of their games, lets Jisung lead on the surface all while skillfully nudging things in the direction he wants them to go to.

"What are you wearing right now, baby?" Jisung asks, breathing out a soft, "show me."

"I can show you in my room." Minho licks his lips, shifting his position over the railing. He's wearing nothing but a simple button-up and the shortest shorts to ever short—one he knows Jisung will go crazy about, not being able to slip his hand underneath its hem and hike it up Minho's legs higher.

"Why not now? I want to see you all pretty against a tropical view." When Minho only pouts teasingly at him, Jisung sighs in faux-exhaustion. "Can I bribe you for a peek, then?"

"Depends. What are you bribing me with?" Minho tilts his head and gives Jisung a cheshire-cat smile.

Jisung smirks, and then the camera is panning, his phone moving, and—oh.

Jisung's red and leaking, pearly precum beading at the tip almost making Minho drool, almost sending him to his knees in a sort of fucked up Pavlovian response.

"Fine," Minho breathes out, and he lifts a hand to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt—

Then there's a firm cough from somewhere behind him.

He whirls around in terror and shock and presses his phone to his chest, the view of Jisung's cock still branded in his mind. "What the f—"

"Our session was supposed to start ten minutes ago." If Mr. Hyunnie saw or heard anything, he doesn't show it. He only folds his arms and levels Minho with a disappointed stare.

"Can you not sneak up on people?" Minho hisses, feeling his heartbeat thrumming through his phone, which he still keeps pressed to his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Mr. Hyunnie can't have seen that, can he? He's going to tell his parents—

"Maybe you should say goodbye to your...friend first before we begin." Mr. Hyunnie gestures to Minho's phone with his chin.

Minho hurriedly ends the call, glaring at his tutor, his shoulders tense. "How long were you there?"

"Long enough to hear everything," Mr. Hyunnie says, wincing, "and see things I didn't sign up to see."

"Don't you dare talk about this," Minho hisses, sending Mr. Hyunnie the most intimidating look he can muster, all while his heart beats anxiously.

Mr. Hyunnie lifts his brow.

"I swear I will fucking fry you in the air fryer if you—"

"Don't worry, I have nothing against sexuality," Mr. Hyunnie says, face serious and firm, "and I don't interfere with familial issues."

Minho starts to untense his shoulders, but then Mr. Hyunnie cocks his head. "But I did just hear you making lewd comments about me. I can't just let that slide, can I?"

Minho's cheeks heat up.

He subconsciously takes a step back when Mr. Hyunnie takes one forward, although he achieves nothing as he's already pressed up against the railing. Then he mentally reprimands himself for it because why is he backing down? He can't let this man think he scares Minho!

He holds his ground and takes not a single step further, even as his knees feel almost unstable, even as his feet are screaming to scramble away from the man currently moving forward and caging him against the bamboo railings, only tilting his chin up and lifting a brow at Mr. Hyunnie in defiance.

"What—What will you do about it?" Minho says, in thankfully a steady, menacing voice. "Blackmail me? Fuck me?" He scoffs. "God forbid Mr. Hyunnie loses his priced professionalism and bangs his student."

He doesn't know if he's threatening Mr. Hyunnie or subconsciously letting out a want.

Mr. Hyunnie gives him one of his bright sunshine smiles—but it does nothing except send chills of anxiety and something else pricking underneath Minho's skin, ice-cold needles poking and prodding at him and making him feel uneasy in a way no tutor has ever done.

He hates it. He hates Mr. Hyunnie.

"Do you know how I'm able to teach even the brattiest of students, Minho-ya?"

Minho glares at him, holding his phone to his chest as Mr. Hyunnie surges even closer, his other hand coming up to grab onto the railing to support himself as he leans away from his tutor. He seethes at the way his name rolls off of Mr. Hyunnie's tongue, ignoring the quickening of his heartbeat. "I don't give a fuck."

"I observe them," Mr. Hyunnie says anyway, blinking down at Minho, slow and predatory. "I find out what they're like, what makes them bend."

Minho jolts a little when Mr. Hyunnie lifts a hand up, but the man only gives him a smile as he buttons the top buttons of Minho's shirt again. He pats imaginary dust off of Minho's collar. "You're like a tiger, did you know? Aggressive, roar-y."

A gasp tears out of Minho's throat when his hair is suddenly tugged back, making his head tilt and baring his neck to Mr. Hyunnie. The man's breath is warm, in a way that makes Minho shift uneasily, makes him rub his thighs together.

He chuckles so close to Minho's neck.

The worst thing, though, is the surprise—sunshine Mr. Hyunnie isn't supposed to be acting like this, it's unfair, Minho doesn't, never miscalculate. He's supposed to be the one bullying Mr. Hyunnie into quitting, the one who's pulling his long-ass hair and throwing his stick body around—

Mr. Hyunnie looks down into Minho's eyes. Their height difference has never been much, but Mr. Hyunnie seems to tower over him, shielding him from the tropical sun and casting him in shadow.

"And then I bend them," Mr. Hyunnie whispers, voice low. "Minho-ya."

Mr. Hyunnie finally leans away before Minho can combust into a million butterflies, stepping back to put more space between them, giving Minho the time to breathe in quick, shallow pants while glaring at Mr. Hyunnie.

"It's not my fault you gave away so much to me so early on," the man says, giving one last smile before turning around. "If you'd just wanted to be thrown around, you could've said so earlier."

Before he fully goes, Mr. Hyunnie looks over his shoulder and gives Minho an impish grin.

"Ciao," he says, waving his hand the same way Minho waved his after their first session, mimicking him.

Mocking him.

"I'm expecting you to be sitting down and ready on the dining table in five minutes," Mr. Hyunnie calls out as he walks away to go to the bathroom, not even sparing Minho a glance. Like Minho's unimportant, like he's not his student at all.

Like he's nothing.

Minho glares daggers at his back, Mr. Hyunnie's low voice still echoing around in his mind, the heat of his body so close to him still tickling his skin—domineering, spiteful, a ghost haunting him even as the man himself walks farther and farther away.

When Mr. Hyunnie disappears behind the bathroom door, Minho's knees finally fail him and he slowly sags against the railing, mentally cursing that damned man and the heat starting to stir in his guts.

🌞

"Good, you're here," Mr. Hyunnie says as he sits down on the chair across Minho, straightening the collar of his black button-up. Minho shifts uneasily at the heat blooming over his body at "good," but he covers it up with a curl of his upper lip. "I hope you still remember the rules I laid out yesterday. Today, you'll be answering the assessment test I gave you."

"Why the fuck do I even have to answer—"

"Rule number three."

Minho seethes.

Hyunjin tilts his head. "So, what were you saying?"

Minho inhales and calms himself down. For the moment, he placates himself, he needs to play along for the moment. This bastard knows too much. "Why do I even need to answer the assessment?" Then, out of spite for rule number three, he says, "Let's just get on with this bullshit."

"I already explained to you yesterday why."

Minho leans forward, blinking his eyes cutely. He gives Mr. Hyunnie a cute little smile. "I don't care. I don't want to answer the assessment."

Mr. Hyunnie only smiles back at him, undeterred, and tilts his head. "I wasn't asking."

"Do you think you're in the position to make demands?"

"I know I'm in the position to make demands." Mr. Hyunnie lifts his chin. "While you...you're not."

Minho sneers, but before he can retort, Mr. Hyunnie drawls, "You're just a damn brat who needs to be taught respect for his teachers."

Minho goes quiet, speechless.

Nobody dared curse at him and call him names to his face before!

He usually only hears his tutors call him that when they believe he's out of earshot!

He lets out a huff of disbelief. "I'll tell my father you called me that!"

"I can call you worse names." Mr. Hyunnie tilts his head in a challenge. "And go on, tell your father. I'll tell him you walked out yesterday and were sexting your fuckbuddy earlier instead of answering the assessment I gave you."

Minho freezes, ice-cold dread spreading over his entire body. Something heavy swoops down in his guts, and his breath quickens.

Mr. Hyunnie smiles. "And that you said you wanted to suck my cock off on the beach and let me throw you around on the sand."

Minho feels his cheeks blaze, a sharp contrast to the chilling dread swirling in his stomach, and he seethes. "You motherf—"

Hyunjin leans over, pouting at Minho. "You," he says, pressing a finger to Minho's lips, "have a foul mouth. I wonder if you'd shut up if I just shoved my cock in your mouth like you want."

Minho's breath catches in his throat, his eyes widening a fraction. He blames the shiver that runs down his spine on the cool wind blowing in from all around them.

There's a beat of silence with only the soft swishing of the tropical trees surrounding the house and the faraway noise of the ocean to be heard—and then Hyunjin smirks. "We will continue the assessment tomorrow. Hopefully you will behave then. I'd just have to explain to your father why we still haven't begun," he says, and then he stands up to walk away to the direction of his room.

At those words, Minho tenses up—and then he's shooting up, running and grabbing Mr. Hyunnie's wrist in a vice grip and turning him around. He gives him an angry glare and pulls him back towards the table not-so-gently.

"Fine, we're doing it now," he spits out, shoving the man back in his chair and grabbing the assessment paper harshly.

Minho keeps glancing up as he answers the damn assessment and giving Mr. Hyunnie glares, making sure that the man knows that Minho hates his guts and his stupid assessment. Every time, Mr. Hyunnie just cocks his head or lifts a brow, lips upturned subtly in amusement, making Minho's blood boil all the more.

The questions are easy enough. Minho's made sure to have bad grades, made sure to choose the wrong answers in exams, but it's not like he never listened to his classes. The problems on the goddamn assessment are basic, especially since Mr. Hyunnie was kind enough to put the formulas needed for the mathematical ones, so Minho only had to remember what to do with what and he's speeding through the questions like a hurricane.

When he's done—not without a big, screaming FUCK YOU! at the bottom of his paper—Minho looks up and sees Mr. Hyunnie on his phone, smiling down at it. He frowns.

"Ya, Hyunnie, I'm d—"

"So you're willing to call your fuckbuddy 'Sir,' but you can't respect my rules?" Mr. Hyunnie looks up at Minho over the golden rims of his glasses, unimpressed.

Minho stills, and then scoffs.

"I only call people 'Sir' when they deserve it." He tilts his head annoyingly and slams his hand on the table. His eye twitches when Mr. Hyunnie doesn't even jolt, but he persists. "And you don't, you cockroach."

"What an immature insult." Mr. Hyunnie folds his arms. "So your fuckbuddy deserves to be called 'Sir,' is that it?" Minho opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Mr. Hyunnie says, "Is that because he stuffs your ass full of his cock?"

Minho's breath catches in his throat.

He points an accusing finger at the man. "Teachers—teachers don't say those things—"

He regrets the gasp that slips out his lips before he can stop it when Mr. Hyunnie grabs his wrist harshly, pulling him closer to him.

He stares straight into Minho's eyes. "You're not willing to see me as a teacher, so I don't see why I have to conform to what a standard teacher does or doesn't do."

Minho tries to pull his wrist free, but Mr. Hyunnie is surprisingly strong for his lanky, gentle looks, and Minho can't get away. He whines when he's pulled even closer, almost bent over the table, Mr. Hyunnie's face bare centimeters away from his. Minho curls his hands into angry fists; nobody dared do this to him before!

"Is that it, Minho-ya?" Mr. Hyunnie drawls out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Minho's wrist. "Should I stuff you full of my cock too, just so you know to call me 'Sir?'"

Minho feels heat blaze across his cheeks; when Mr. Hyunnie sees, he scoffs and pushes Minho away, almost making him stumble against his chair. "So that's it? After all your posturing around and barking, you're this easy? You're just a needy cockslut, after all."

Minho's lips fall open, mind trying to come up with a retort but blanking, staticky like a TV screen on a dead channel.

Then he sneers. Two can play this fucking game. "Fine, sure, I'm a cockslut." He leans forward again, relentless, unwilling to back down as he meets Hyunjin's gaze.

"You know, Hyunnie, it's such a pity," he says, voice sickly-sweet, taking a strand of Mr. Hyunnie's hair and twirling it around his fingers. "I would have hooked up with you if you weren't such a stuck-up tutor with a stick up your ass."

Hyunjin pouts, cupping Minho's cheek in mock gentleness, running a thumb over the jut of his cheekbone. Minho refuses to swat his hand away and admit defeat.

"It's such a pity," Hyunjin mimics, smirking at Minho, "I would've bent you over this table ages ago if you weren't such a bitch."

"As if you can." Minho pouts at him too. "For all I know, you might be a sad little closeted virgin who doesn't even know where to stick his miniscule cock in."

Mr. Hyunnie stares at him—and then he laughs, bright and amused and giggly.

Minho looks at him in confusion.

Is this man a crazy bitch, after all?

That would explain his immunity to Minho's bitching!

"That's cute, Minho-ya." He grabs a handful of Minho's hair and pulls, making Minho gasp. He uses his hold to pull Minho in, and Minho has to bite back the whimper bubbling up his throat.

Bringing Minho's ear right against his lips, Mr. Hyunnie whispers, "I eat little bratty boys like you for dinner."

A shiver runs down Minho's spine, his breaths turning shallow, and he blinks rapidly, flustered, not knowing what to do while trapped in Hyunjin's grip.

"You're acting like you don't know what to do, Minho-ya," Mr. Hyunnie says, clicking his tongue like he's talking to a poor, naive child. "Has nobody ever done this to you before? So your little fuckbuddy Sir isn't much of a sir, after all?"

Minho hisses through gritted teeth—because no, nobody's done this to him before, nobody dares to fuck around with Lee Minho—not Jisung, not the teachers, not anyone else. He controls the game, he—

"You don't control the game now, Minho-ya," Mr. Hyunnie says, voice teetering on the edge of sing-songy, smiling as if he can read Minho's mind. "Do you finally realize? I do."

He noses at the shell of Minho's ear, lips and breath warm, too warm on Minho's suddenly hyper-aware skin. Minho doesn't even realize his hands are now clutching Mr. Hyunnie's shirt, curled in the fabric of his white button-up. "Oh? That's cute. You're trembling like a trapped little bunny." Mr. Hyunnie tugs more at his hair, and Minho's cheeks blaze at the whimper he doesn't manage to swallow. "You like this? You like being put in your place?"

The man's other hand creeps up to lightly wrap around Minho's exposed neck, making Minho's breath hitch further, his entire body tensing up, like he's—like he's prey caught in between the predator's jaws, waiting for the lethal bite.

"N-No," he protests, and it's the first time he's heard himself sound so weak and stuttery like this. It makes him feel things, makes him a little dizzy.

He snaps himself out of the thick haze he's starting to spiral into, and some of the fight returns in his limbs. He untangles his fingers from Mr. Hyunnie's shirt and grabs at the hand pulling at his hair, glaring at his tutor and wrapping both hands around Mr. Hyunnie's thin wrist, digging his nails into the skin, trying to make him pull away.

Mr. Hyunnie hisses. "Minho-ya," he warns, and the hand around Minho's throat squeezes just the slightest bit, just enough for Minho's breathing to struggle but not to stop completely—and just like that, all the fight in Minho's bones seep out of him, turning him limp in Mr. Hyunnie's hold.

He doesn't know if it's the way Mr. Hyunnie growls his name out, or if it's the hand currently holding him by the throat; he doesn't know if it's the dark, stormy gaze that bright sunshine Mr. Hyunnie is giving him, but Minho whines—honest to god whines—and he can't bring it in himself to get horrified when he realizes that his dick is already hard and straining in his pants, his thighs rubbing together like he's some bitch in heat. (Somewhere in his mind he wonders if he's not exactly that.)

The sudden need hits him like a tsunami wave: he needs Mr. Hyunnie now.

"Please," he rasps out.

He doesn't know what he's begging for.

(Please pull his hair more. Please squeeze his neck harder, don't let him breathe at all. Please kiss him, let him taste Mr. Hyunnie on his lips, please just fuck him, now, now, now.)

Mr. Hyunnie looks surprised at that—and honestly, even Minho is surprised at himself, but he's far too submerged in the thick, heady daze in his head to care much. Mr. Hyunnie loosens his hold on Minho's hair and neck, starting to pull away. "Hey, Minho—"

Minho curls his hand over the one Mr. Hyunnie has around his neck, keeping it in place. God, Jisung's never held it like that before. He wants more. "Please."

"Minho..."

"Finish what you started, you damn cockroach," Minho hisses in frustration, although it's weak and raspy, and Mr. Hyunnie only takes a moment to search his eyes before his hand squeezes gently around Minho's throat again, the storm in his eyes returning.

"Cockroach?" he asks lowly.

"Please—"

Mr. Hyunnie noses at Minho's jaw, stopping by to growl in his ear, "Rule number one."

Minho's mind struggles to recall just what Mr. Hyunnie's damn rules are, trying to think through the more, more, more running around in his mind as Mr. Hyunnie nips and licks at his jaw and under his ear—

And then he gasps out. "S-Sir."

Mr. Hyunnie stills, and Minho feels his lips stretch into a smirk over his skin. "Good boy."

Minho whines when Mr. Hyunnie suddenly pulls away, the breeze making him feel suddenly too cold without the man's warmth, but then Mr. Hyunnie's grabbing his arm and pulling him over the table. Minho scrambles to lift his ass and legs over the surface, and he barely does before he's being pulled across the table and towards Mr. Hyunnie like he's nothing but a ragdoll, suddenly trapped in long, strong arms.

Mr. Hyunnie kisses him like a drowning man desperate for air and he's oxygen, and Minho kisses back just as fiercely. He doesn't know where the sudden need—the sudden urge—came from; with Jisung, with everyone else he's been with, it's not like this, it's never like this. He drowns with them, sure, but it's drowning in calm waters; with Mr. Hyunnie, he feels like he's drowning in the middle of a violent sea, the angry waves throwing him around wherever they please, the harsh current pulling at him the way Mr. Hyunnie's harshly pulling at the buttons of his shirt to reveal more of his skin, losing direction, losing focus, unable to breathe when Mr. Hyunnie slips his tongue inside his mouth—

"What time will your family be back?" Mr. Hyunnie asks in between kisses, his hands slipping under Minho's unbuttoned shirt and roaming down his sides, before grabbing his ass and pulling him closer to the edge of the table, closer to him.

Minho wracks through his brain for what Felix told him last night. "Three—three pm. Four. Around—hm—around that time." Minho grabs the back of Mr. Hyunnie's neck to pull him closer, wrapping his thighs around his waist and pulling him flush against his body. Finally, fucking finally.

"I think the assessment's all for today," Mr. Hyunnie says, breathy. Minho nods eagerly.

He lifts Minho up, making Minho gasp and cling to him tightly, and then walks away somewhere, anywhere—Minho thinks he's willing to be taken anywhere at this point. He doesn't let Mr. Hyunnie break away from the kiss, so his tutor has to fumble around for a while before prying Minho off of his lips so he can see where he's going. Minho busies himself instead with sucking on the man's smooth neck, which earns him a moan. "Don't leave any marks where people can see."

Minho whines. "Why not? You're single, aren't you?"

But god, even if Mr. Hyunnie weren't, Minho doesn't think he can stop.

"Yes, but your family will see. Who do you think they'll suspect? I was with nobody else all day."

Minho whines more, but doesn't argue anymore, closing his eyes and biting Mr. Hyunnie's earlobe instead and sucking on it, eliciting a soft noise from the man as he walks again.

Minho yelps when he's thrown and gravity suddenly pulls him down, but a soft, bouncy mattress greets him, and he huffs in surprise. "Mr. Hyunnie—"

"Just call me Hyunjin." He crawls over Minho on the bed, swooping down to steal another kiss. But then, "Actually, we're still technically in a tutoring session..."

Minho furrows his brows in confusion, but then he realizes, his cheeks going warm.

"In your dreams," he says, mentally wincing at the stutter in his voice.

"I'm a Pisces. I always live in my dreams."

Minho could have rolled his eyes at that, but a hand parts his unbuttoned shirt and brushes a thumb over his right nipple lightly, teasingly, and his back arches slightly in surprise as he lets out a soft noise. Hyunjin leans down and crawls down Minho's body just enough to wrap those plump, plump lips around the other nipple, looking up at Minho and keeping his gaze as he opens his mouth for Minho to see his burning tongue, licking around the perked-up bud before giving it a light suckle.

Minho lets out a stuttered breath and tangles his hand in Hyunjin's hair, throwing his head back against the mattress as Hyunjin sucks harder, one hand sliding down Minho's sides and waist as Minho arches off the bed. Fingers dig into the flesh of Minho's thigh, lifting it up and spreading ot farther so Hyunjin can settle in between Minho's legs, grinding his torso against Minho's clothed cock.

Minho moans at that, throwing his head to the side and closing his eyes as his hips move on their own, grinding up against Hyunjin's solid body above him. Hyunjin pulls off of his nipple with a wet pop, clicking his tongue.

He grips Minho's waist crushingly hard in his hands, sneering. "Did I give you permission to do that?"

Minho whimpers at the sudden growl. Really, just moments ago, Hyunjin was being almost sweet and teasing, but the terror teacher is back, digging his thumbs into Minho's hipbones and making Minho gasp out from the slight (good, so good) pain. Minho doesn't know what to do with this sudden switch, doesn't know how to respond, because something tells him Hyunjin's the real thing, no frolicking around and teasing and spoiling Minho like Jisung does—and he doesn't know what to do, because really, there's nothing he can do, except take it, follow—

"Fuck," he grits out, shoving at Hyunjin weakly. Who says he's following—

"Are you still not going to behave?" Hyunjin asks, licking over his teeth in annoyance and fixing the glasses that got crooked on his face. Minho pants, half-glaring at him, but even he knows it's not as fiery as he wants to make it.

Minho's muscles tense when Hyunjin hums, low and dangerous. Nods his head. "I see."

The dark look Hyunjin sends him almost makes Minho say no, he's sorry, but he bites it back—only to gasp out when Hyunjin brings his big hand up around Minho's slender throat again, giving a light squeeze in warning.

Minho's eyes roll back at the feeling, his hands scrambling up to grasp onto Hyunjin's wrists.

He hears Hyunjin snicker. "Slut."

Something dark and hot twists in Minho's guts so hard it's almost painful.

Another hand spreads his legs further, pushing them as far as they can go—and they can go far, with Minho's flexibility born from all those years of dancing and yoga. Then Hyunjin lines his crotch up with Minho's, and then he grinds, slow and hard as he moans out lowly, and Minho can feel the heat of his hard cock through the fabrics of their pants, almost drools for it, mewling high at the back of his throat.

"Are you still not going to behave, hm?" Hyunjin licks a fat stripe up Minho's left cheek, sucking on the spot just beside the corner of his eye. Minho almost feels like food, like something about to be devoured, and it makes him tremble, makes him arch into Hyunjin, pressing himself up against him—but Hyunjin holds him down with a strict hand, pinning him down to the mattress.

Minho struggles to blink open his eyes. "I don't want—"

"You don't want to what? Don't want to listen?" Hyunjin chuckles, dark and deep.

He runs two fingers over Minho's bottom lip, easily slipping them inside his parted mouth. Minho hates that he automatically wraps his lips and tongue around the digits, sucking and tasting Hyunjin's skin, gagging slightly when Hyunjin pushes them in a little too deep.

"Minho-ya," Hyunjin drawls, amused and domineering, "I'm not asking."

Minho's eyes flutter shut.

"Looks like you understand now," Hyunjin says in delight, giving another slow, deep grind against Minho's cock. "Good boy."

Minho mewls around the fingers in his mouth.

Nobody's called him that for so long. Last time was years ago. Maybe in third grade. He did well in a Math problem, he thinks. He doesn't remember much—all he can think about is Hyunjin's cock grinding against his and Hyunjin's lips trailing wet, obscene kisses down his neck and shoulders.

Minho swirls his tongue over the silver ring on Hyunjin's finger, opening his mouth wide so he knows that Hyunjin can see. He feels him, staring hungrily as Minho dips his tongue in the valley between his fingers and fiddles with the ring, its metallic taste sharp against Minho's tongue, and cold, too, but Minho sees to that soon enough, doesn't stop tonguing at it until it's warm and dripping with his spit.

He gurgles around Hyunjin's fingers at a particularly harsh grind, his nails digging into Mr. Hyunnie's arms. They're solid underneath his fingertips, muscles flexing as Mr. Hyunnie holds Minho's hips down with one hand and fucks Minho's throat with the other.

Minho's tongue lolls out, chasing Hyunjin's fingers when they slide out of his mouth, leaving a shimmering trail of spit hanging in the air before it breaks. Hyunjin only clicks his tongue in amusement and wipes his fingers on Minho's cheeks—like Minho's just his rag to use as he pleases, and nothing more.

It makes Minho tremble.

"Fuck me," Minho demands, tugging at Mr. Hyunnie's shirt.

"That's not how you ask."

Minho glares at Hyunjin, albeit a little weakly. The audacity.

Minho won't beg again.

Over his dead body.

He digs his nails harshly into Hyunjin's flesh. Just get on with it.

"Easy with those claws, Tiger," Hyunjin says, chuckling. He easily pries Minho's hands off of him. Well, it's not like Minho resisted...much.

"Just get on with it!" Minho complains, grinding up against Hyunjin. He preens when that pulls a moan out of the man.

"I'll leave you here if you don't ask nicely."

Minho glares at him, furrowing his brows in disbelief. Hyunjin only lifts a brow at him.

Ah. Minho now understands how Mr. Hyunnie deflects Minho's attacks so well.

Mr. Hyunnie's a bit of a brat himself.

He seethes when he realizes Hyunjin means it. His eyes—Minho's seen that look before.

In the mirror.

That look made a lot of teachers cry already. Mr. Hyunnie will leave him, the motherfucker.

Minho huffs.

"Fuck me..." he begins. Then, much more quietly, he grits out, "Please."

Hyunjin leans down slightly, giving an exaggerated look of confusion. "I can't hear you, Tiger."

"Please." When Hyunjin only furrows his brows more, cocks his head, Minho kicks his foot in annoyance. "Please!"

"Good." Hyunjin smiles down at him, brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Now, please who?"

Minho knows what Hyunjin's telling him to do, but it's not like he'll give the man what he wants immediately. No fucking way.

"Mr. Hyunnie."

"No."

"Hyunjin."

"Ddaeng."

Minho stares at him. "Cockroach."

Hyunjin shrugs at that, and Minho's eyes widen when he feels Hyunjin's body lift off of him as he starts to stand back up, taking his warmth and his solid weight with him and leaving Minho feeling a little too cold.

He grabs at Hyunjin frantically. "No, no!" He pulls Hyunjin back to him in a burst of desperate strength, wrapping his arms and legs around him like a koala. "Please, please, Sir—"

"That's it." Hyunjin chuckles, pleased, petting through Minho's hair. "Good boy."

Minho trembles at that.

Hyunjin moves to stand up again; Minho immediately squeezes around him, looking at him with wide eyes because what did he do wrong now?

"Let me get the lube and condom, dear god," Hyunjin exclaims, prying Minho's limbs off of him.

He goes to his bag, situated in a corner of the room. It's the first time Minho actually pays attention to the room. Nothing's new, he notes as he sits up; it looks exactly like his own room, with the queen-sized bed and the wooden walls. Out the windows, the broad leaves of the trees gently sway in the wind.

Hyunjin opens the windows wide, letting the breeze and the soft rustling of the trees slip inside the room. A wise move, maybe; they won't be able to explain why Hyunjin's room smells like sex if Minho's family somehow catches a whiff or visits Hyunjin in his guest room.

Hyunjin comes back to the bed, throwing a packet of condom and a travel-sized bottle of lube on the bed beside Minho.

"Why do you have these?" Minho asks accusingly, his eyes narrowed up at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin shrugs. "I might meet someone around here."

Minho furrows his brows harder. "You were hired to teach me, not fuck around!"

Hyunjin lifts a brow—dangerous, challenging. "I thought you didn't want me to teach you?"

Minho only huffs at him and pulls him down to sit on the bed, quickly unbuttoning his shirt before pushing it off of his shoulders. The shirt barely falls to the floor before Minho's pressing his lips to Hyunjin's warm skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder and collarbone.

He feels arms wrap loosely around his waist as Hyunjin holds him closer, and he nibbles up the smooth column of Hyunjin's neck when the man tilts his head back and bares more of his skin for Minho. When Minho inhales, he smells the natural scent of Hyunjin's skin, along with a deep, lingering cologne, fresh and just a touch of hypnotizing.

Minho lifts a hand up to play with Hyunjin's long hair. It's soft and silky under his fingertips, smooth as the way Hyunjin slides his hand up the side of Minho's thigh, slipping under the hem of his shorts and hiking it up as far as it can go before sliding under to cup his ass, giving it a squeeze.

Minho pulls off of Hyunjin's neck momentarily so Hyunjin can fully push Minho's already-unbuttoned shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind them. His shorts and underwear follow, Hyunjin's big hands pulling at them almost harshly, as if he'll die if he doesn't have Minho fully naked in the next second.

Minho dives back in to kiss Hyunjin as he fumbles with the zipper of Hyunjin's pants, pulling it down and not bothering to wait for the man to take it off before slipping his hand underneath the waistband of his underwear and taking his hard cock in his hand.

He breaks the kiss, eyes a little big. He gives Hyunjin's cock an experimental pump, which makes Hyunjin hiss through his teeth, tilting his head back as he leans back on his hands.

"You're..." Minho bites his lip, slowly jerking Hyunjin's cock off. "Big," he breathes, dipping his pointer finger into the slit and spreading the precum all over Hyunjin's head.

"Yeah," Hyunjin says, a little breathless from the way Minho's fondling him. He doesn't sound smug—more like he's a little concerned. "It's a little...too much for the inexperienced. Do you want me to bottom—?"

"I'll pretend the inexperienced part isn't an insult." Minho half-glares at Hyunjin through his lashes, squeezing down gently on the head of Hyunjin's cock out of retaliation. "I make bastards cum over and over again in one go, I'll have you know." Jisung even had to beg him to stop so his "cock doesn't fall off," his own words.

Hyunjin lifts a brow. "But you're still young. You're not as—"

"I do not tolerate ageism." Minho gives Hyunjin's cock a harsh squeeze this time, and Hyunjin's hips buck in surprise, a sharp moan tearing out his throat. "I won't let you leave this room until I've had this cock inside me."

Hyunjin's eyes darken again at that, and he tangles a hand into the hair at the base of Minho's nape. Some of the fight that Minho was just beginning to recover immediately leaves him in a flash; he meets Hyunjin's gaze—a little terrified, a little excited.

"That's cute," Hyunjin mutters, pressing his soft lips to Minho's chin before trailing kisses down the front of his neck, sucking on the groove in Minho's collarbone. "You think you're the one that makes the decisions here."

Hyunjin pushes Minho on his back, removing his pants so that they're now both fully naked, before gripping the backs of Minho's thighs and spreading them apart. He grabs the lube bottle, making a show of pouring lube on his fingers and warming it just to mess with Minho, and then he's pressing one slick finger against Minho's rim.

Minho exhales when the first finger slips inside. It's nothing to him; he's used to more than a single finger, and soon enough he's whining for a second, throwing out a "Please, Sir" just for good measure. Hyunjin's lips curl in delight at that and he indulges Minho, slipping another finger with the first and pumping them slowly inside him, and then spreading them wide apart, scissoring Minho's walls open.

Minho's back arches off of the sheets when Hyunjin's fingers brush over his sweet spot. God, Minho forgot that Hyunjin's fingers are long as fuck.

"Want a third, Minho-ya?" Hyunjin asks, running his free hand over Minho's thigh, groping the ample flesh and giving it a light slap.

"Yes." When Hyunjin hums, waiting, Minho adds, "Yes, Sir."

He's long past the point of bitching—he just really wants Hyunjin's cock inside him now.

"It's the one with the ring on it," Hyunjin happily informs Minho, before he slips the third one in.

Minho whimpers at the feeling of the ring nudging at his rim, slipping inside of him just barely when Hyunjin presses inside deep enough. The bump bothers him—but in the best way, heightening his senses, not letting his mind slip away. It makes him hyperfocus on the feeling of Hyunjin's finger inside him, and he can do nothing but throw his head back when Hyunjin brushes his spot again, this time on purpose.

Minho feels empty when Hyunjin finally pulls his fingers out, but he doesn't complain, not when Hyunjin's lining his monster of a cock against his fluttering hole, the head blunt and hard and hot against Minho's rim even with a condom on. Minho licks his lips when Hyunjin slips the head in, then he lets out a broken noise when Hyunjin slips the rest of his length in, slowly spearing Minho wide open on his cock.

"Going cross-eyed already just from having my cock inside you, Minho-ya?" Hyunjin teases.

Panting, Minho forces his eyes to return to normal, blinking rapidly as he tries to direct a glare at Hyunjin. Before any sort of retort can even form on his tongue, though, Hyunjin gives a tentative thrust, pulling out slow and steady and then pushing back in, and Minho arches off the bed.

"Shit," he hisses through his teeth, curling his hands in the sheets when Hyunjin starts up a rhythm. Some of the stretch still burns inside Minho, good and delicious, and he licks over his teeth, just to ground himself.

"Never thought you'd be so tight, Minho-ya," Hyunjin says, although they both know that's not true, somehow. "Thought you're as loose as you're bratty. Thought your little inexperienced fuckbuddy fucked you loose already."

As if to convince Hyunjin that's not true, Minho's walls clench down on his cock.

"Yes, yes, I know," Hyunjin murmurs, even though Minho didn't say anything. "You'll be tight like a good boy for me, Tiger, I know."

Minho lets out a soft little gasp at that, which makes Hyunjin smile evilly.

He pushes Minho's legs up higher, gripping the back of his thighs and pushing Minho's legs up in the air, until Minho's almost bent in half with his legs straight, his toes poking up towards the ceiling.

"You'd look nice with some long socks on," Hyunjin mumbles pensively, more to himself than to Minho. Suddenly, he perks up. "Oh, yeah."

"What?" Minho breathes out. He protests when Hyunjin pulls out, but Hyunjin ignores him.

"I remembered my best friend threw this in my luggage," he says, pulling out something and throwing it at Minho. "Put them on," he commands him.

Minho whines because he just wants Hyunjin to fuck him, goddammit, but he picks up what Hyunjin threw him, and—

It's a pair of thin, white thigh-high socks.

Minho's cheeks heat up.

"I—I've never worn this before!" he complains.

"You've never listened to your tutor before," Hyunjin quips, "but look what you're doing now." Hyunjin hums. "I have my skirt, too." He looks back at Minho, who stares wide-eyed at him.

Hyunjin smiles. "Maybe next time."

He helps Minho pull the socks on, their frantic hands pulling the tight fabric over Minho's thighs. Hyunjin, as Minho discovers, has thinner thighs than him, and soon enough Minho's biting his lip in embarrassment, whining as the flesh of his thighs bulge a little over the hems of the socks.

"Don't worry, Minho-ya, you're pretty. Knew these would look good on your thick thighs." Hyunjin runs a hand down Minho's sock-clad thigh, almost as if in awe.

"Can you fuck me now?" Minho whines. Then, "Please?"

"Since you asked nicely." Hyunjin smiles at him, lifting his legs back up in the air and spreading them as far as they can go. "Keep them nice and straight," he tells Minho, patting his legs, and Minho nods.

Minho's stomach tenses both from being almost half-bent and from the cock slipping back inside him, and he throws his head back, his eyes rolling back in his head when Hyunjin starts up a rhythm—this time much faster and harder than earlier, jostling Minho up and down on the mattress.

Minho doesn't manage to stop the breathy little moans that rise high in his throat, and after the first failed attempts to stifle them, he just gives up and doesn't bother to stop his noises anymore. Let Hyunjin's ego feed on his noises, fuck it—it's not like he's not doing a good job of fucking Minho, anyway.

Minho's toes curl inside his socks, feet pointing up to the ceiling as his hands scramble to hold onto the pillows above his head. It's almost painful, the pleasure and the desire twisting almost overwhelmingly in his gut as Hyunjin speeds up. He always trembles so easily, so he's not surprised when he faintly realizes that his hands and thighs are shaking, and he whines, high and loud and keening.

"Ah, ah," Minho pants harshly, looking up at Hyunjin desperately before his eyes close, unable to withstand the pleasure. The breeze coming in through the windows is cool, but Minho's burning hot, like flames are licking under his skin as Hyunjin lifts his legs up more and thrusts harder, shifting his angle, looking for Minho's sweet spot. "Sir—"

"Oh? You turned into a dumb little slut?"

"I—I'm not—"

Hyunjin brings one of Minho's legs close to himself, pressing his nose and lips into it and closing his eyes as if it's the best thing in the world. He grazes his teeth over the thin fabric of the sock, and even with the sock on Minho can feel Hyunjin's teeth on his skin, feels the wet heat of Hyunjin's tongue when he sucks on Minho's sock-clad ankle. When his angle finally shifts just right, Minho cries out and his toe curls inside Hyunjin's mouth as Hyunjin sucks on it, turning a patch of the sock dripping wet, his eyes dark and heavy on Minho.

"I'm close, I'm close," Minho whines out in warning. His cock, bouncing with every one of Hyunjin's thrusts, twitches, and he feels familiar tightness in his balls, in his guts—a knot tied too tightly, pulled too tightly, about to break and snap.

He curls his hand around the wrist of the hand Hyunjin has wrapped tightly around his waist and squeezes it in a vice grip, pushing two of his own fingers in his mouth just to have something to ground him from the pleasure. It's too much, and he feels like he'll combust into a million tiny pieces if he doesn't have anything to hold onto, to have in his mouth.

Hyunjin's hold on his waist borders on bruising as Hyunjin starts to grunt, his moans getting louder, almost drowning the harsh noise of skin slapping on skin and the little broken whimpers and ah, ah, ah's that Minho's letting out, now that his fingers are busy curling into the sheets instead of muffling his noises.

"Please, please, please," is all Minho can babble out, his vision blurry, all he can focus on the feeling of Hyunjin's cock sliding in and out of him. Every time he even tries to open his mouth, Hyunjin makes sure to thrust into him hard and deep, and Minho can do nothing but be pliant in a way he'd never ever been before.

"You just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? Needed a different outlet for all that aggressive energy." Hyunjin smirks, chuckling breathily. Minho nods frantically, even though Hyunjin's sure Minho doesn't even understand what he's saying. That makes him chuckle again. "You thought I'd be one of those tutors you can just mess around with? Think again."

"Hngh!" is all Minho can let out in reply, cross-eyed and drooling and dazed.

Hyunjin chuckles, delighted. "Biggest brat became my perfect fuck doll, hm?"

Minho whines.

Without warning, Hyunjin wraps his hand around Minho's neglected cock, almost dwarfing Minho in his big hand. He pumps it in time with his thrusts, hard and dirty and quick, and Minho's whines grow so loud they're almost screams, Minho arching off the bed and holding onto the last pieces of his sanity, tears of overwhelming pleasure pooling in the corners of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

"Cum, Minho-ya," Hyunjin grits out, low and guttural and desperate, and Minho does, wailing and trembling and digging his nails into Hyunjin's shoulders, tears flowing freely as he lets go and falls over the edge.

"Sir, sir," Minho gasps out as he shakes, arms wrapping around Hyunjin and pulling him close when the man curls over him, grunting as he cums into the condom and rides their highs out, spilling from the too-tight hold of Minho's walls around his cock.

Hyunjin pants harshly, too, falling to the side as he gasps and pulls Minho to him. He squeezes him tight in his arms, not letting him go, pulling him flush to his chest as he lies there just as shaky and breathless as Minho is. Minho pants into his chest, fingers curled over Hyunjin's arm.

When they're calm down enough, although still panting a little, Hyunjin's tight hold on Minho loosens, and he gives out a deep, content sigh.

Minho remains boneless against Hyunjin's chest, smelling sweat and sex and Hyunjin...but he finds he likes it.

He lets Hyunjin clean them up, lying limp on the bed. His sweat makes the socks stick a little uncomfortably on his skin, but he doesn't let Hyunjin pull them off. He waits until Hyunjin lies beside him again—when he does, Minho curls into his warmth.

"Minho-ya."

Minho floats in his afterglow, content fatigue seeping into his body.

A hand brushes through his hair. "Minho-ya..."

Minho wants to sleep.

"Minho-ya," Hyunjin repeats, gently cupping Minho's jaw and tilting his head up so he can look him in the eye. "Are you okay?"

Minho blinks a little, processing Hyunjin's words.

He nods.

"Nothing hurts?"

"Nothing," Minho mumbles out, letting his eyes fall shut. He wants to sleep...

"Sorry, you can't sleep," Hyunjin says, chuckling softly. "We need to clean up." When Minho only whines softly, snuggling further into Hyunjin's chest, Hyunjin reminds him, "Your family might return soon."

Minho grabs the phone Hyunjin's holding, squinting at the time. "It's just a quarter to eleven."

"They might come back earlier..."

"No, they won't. My mom would want to stay on the beach until afternoon. She might even want to watch the sunset. She loves sunsets." Minho hums.

"Then you can sleep," Hyunjin relents, petting Minho's hair.

Minho closes his eyes again. He almost falls asleep, with how comfortable he is. Hyunjin's warm.

He doesn't know how long they just...lie there.

Then he blinks his eyes open again, slowly, before he can fully fall asleep.

Hyunjin lets out a little surprised noise when he realizes Minhos' awake. "I thought you were sleeping."

Minho slowly pushes himself up on his hands, stretching a little.

"I'm hungry."

"Oh. Right. It's lunchtime. I'm not a great cook, but maybe I can whip up something for you. Or is there delivery here?"

Minho lets him ramble on, wordlessly raising his leg over Hyunjin's waist before going up to straddle him. That surprises Hyunjin, and he fumbles to help a shaky-limbed Minho to sit up.

"I don't want lunch," Minho mumbles, running his hands down Hyunjin's torso.

Hyunjin hisses when Minho moves his hips in a circle, right on top of his cock. It's growing half-hard again, Minho realizes in delight.

"You're insatiable," Hyunjin groans out, falling back into the pillows and throwing an arm over his eyes.

He still fucks Minho in the end.

In his thigh-high socks.

🌞

"Shit, you never told me your tutor was the Hwang Hyunjin. One of my distant cousins was taught by him two years ago," Jisung exclaims through the laggy call. Minho decided not to do a video call, just to help with the lag. "That man works miracles, goddamn. My cousin was an absolute demon, he used to hang around with us and was the noisiest, rudest bitch in our little group. Now he's majoring in Engineering and refuses to drink."

Minho is speechless for a moment. He can't help but wonder if Mr. Hyunnie pulled the same shit with that cousin, if he fucked him into submission the way he did, does to Minho every day now.

The possibility of it makes him want to hiss.

He leans further onto the bamboo railing, looking out at the sea. His family's eating in some restaurant somewhere close to the beach by now, so close to the crystal-clear water. Minho wants to be there, too. They'll wander around in the tourist town at the foot of the mountain afterwards, for a while, and they won't come back for maybe another three hours.

"What did Hyunjin do?" he asks instead, distracting himself from the self-pity.

"He beat him at Tekken."

That makes Minho blink.

"What?"

"He literally beat him at Tekken. Man, my cousin worshipped nothing but Tekken back when he was a little shit in high school. He spent hours playing it until none of us could beat him." Jisung gives another one of his signature exaggerated noises of awe. "I was there on vacation when Hwang Hyunjin came. Apparently they made a deal that if Hwang defeated my cousin in Tekken, my cousin would have to listen to him. The motherfucker was blasted to pieces."

Minho blinks some more.

"And he just. Listened to Mr. Hyun—to Hwang Hyunjin?"

"I told you, my cousin worshipped nothing but Tekken. He was the champion. When he met someone who could beat him, he saw that person as a god." Jisung whistles. "I think they still meet up once in a while to eat and play Tekken."

Minho stares at the ground in disbelief.

That easy? Hyunjin made someone listen that easily?

"What does your cousin call Hyunjin?"

"I think he calls him something like Mr. Hyunjin. But not Hyunjin. A nickname. Hyun-ah? Hyun—"

"Mr. Hyunnie."

"Yeah, that."

"Did he ever call him Sir?"

Jisung hums. "No, I don't think so. At least, my cousin never told us. And he's told us a lot about Hwang. Mostly how he's such a great teacher, makes the lessons easy to understand and shit."

Minho breathes out. And this bitch makes him call him Sir?

"What of it?"

"Nothing..." He furrows his brows. "They never...dated? Um, touched?" He nibbles on his lips. "Fucked?"

"What? No, what the hell?" Jisung sounds scandalized. "Wait. Is the tutor fucking you?"

"What the hell, Jisung?" Minho hisses out, willing himself to sound as offended as possible.

Thankfully, Jisung's distracted enough by that not to question Minho's lack of a proper answer.

"Is he tutoring you right now?" Jisung asks.

"No. We just took a break."

Jisung hums, slow and lazy and mischievous. Minho already knows what he's up to before he even speaks another word.

"Wanna play, kitty?"

Minho hesitates.

When he realizes, it surprises him.

He's never hesitated before. His goddamn libido never let him hesitate one bit.

And the worse thing is, no, he's not hesitating because his libido has lessened. Not at all.

It's just...his libido's looking for someone else.

"You're going to stop sleeping around and you're going to focus on studying until you graduate, understand? My cock will keep you satiated until then."

Minho is speechless in disbelief.

Is he really listening to—

"Kitty?"

"No, I'm not in the mood, Jisung," Minho answers.

Even though he can't see him, he imagines the surprise on Jisung's face—he'd never turned him down before.

Jisung only chuckles, though.

"Is Hwang Hyunjin making things hard for you?"

Oh, he's making some things hard, alright. Minho bites his tongue.

Speaking of the devil—Minho feels a hand slide up the back of his sock-clad legs, slipping under the pink skirt he's wearing before sliding over the swell of his ass. Minho moves up to face Hyunjin, about to bring the phone down and say goodbye to Jisung when Hyunjin shakes his head. Minho furrows his brows in confusion.

Mr. Hyunnie takes his phone and puts it on speaker, before returning it back to him and gesturing for him to return to his call.

"Well," Minho says, side-eyeing Hyunjin, "Mr. Hyunnie might make things hard for me, but you bet I'm making things much harder for him."

Hyunjin only lifts an amused brow at that, brushing the back of Minho's skirt up.

Minho jolts a little when he feels three wet fingers slide inside him, the glide still slick and easy from...earlier. (Minho sat on his cock the entire time Hyunjin taught him, and he can still feel some of the lube dripping from inside him.)

Hyunjin nosed at his ear, before whispering, "Mind your manners. Respect who you're talking to by paying full attention."

Minho mentally curses him. How does he expect Minho to pay full attention when he's being touchy like this?

"I'm sure you do, babe." Jisung's chuckle crackles loud in Minho's ears as Hyunjin pushes his cock inside Minho, gripping his waist tightly and letting out a soft noise when he bottoms out. Minho chokes on air.

"Yes," he says, steady but a little too rushed. It's hard to think of a witty remark when Hyunjin bends him further over the railing, pulling his hips back and slowly starting to fuck into him. The view of the trees and the sea in front of him blurs a little.

"You're a feisty little kitty. Which reminds me." Jisung whines obnoxiously. "I miss your ass already! I dreamed about you last night. I was fucking you in the library, at the back—you know, the spot where Soobin likes to read in."

Just as Jisung finishes, Hyunjin gives a particularly harsh thrust, which tears a stuttered little moan from Minho.

Minho stares at his silent phone, paralyzed in terror.

There's a moment of deafening silence.

"I thought you weren't in the mood, kitty?"

"I—I'm not! I was—that—I stubbed my toe," Minho reasons, looking back and throwing a glare over his shoulder at Hyunjin. Hyunjin only gives him a bright sunshine smile and slides a hand under his button-up, flicking his nipples, making a shudder wrack through Minho's body. Thankfully, he's able to swallow his moan this time.

"Do you know how fucking painful that is?" he reasons with Jisung.

Jisung hums, playful. "That didn't sound like a moan of pain, babe. Did you like the thought of fucking in the library?"

Minho's jaw falls slack as Hyunjin speeds up—just a little bit, so that the noises are kept to a minimum.

"N-No." Minho pulls his phone away so he can puff out a deep sigh. He opens his mouth to try and say more, but Hyunjin takes that moment to snap his hips just right, and Minho's words come out in a jumbled mess: "AahhIdon'tknow."

There's another beat of silence.

Minho lets out a small aborted yelp when Hyunjin brushes more insistently against his prostate, his eyes crossing as he slumps over the railing.

His hand grips the railing in a vice grip, the other his phone, shaking.

"Kitty, are you touching yourself right now?" Jisung asks, quietly.

"No—"

Jisung whines. "Is this payback for that time I was jerking off when you called? I'm sorry! It was your fault, you called me—"

Minho's legs almost give out underneath him as Hyunjin grinds his hips deeply, but Hyunjin snakes a hand under his hips and keeps him up.

"Talk to you later!" Minho rushes out, before hastily ending the call.

The moment the call beeps, Hyunjin speeds up mercilessly, and Minho lets out a drawn-out moan.

Hyunjin takes Minho's phone so it doesn't fall off and puts it in the back pocket of his unzipped jeans.

"You—you're evil!" Minho gasps out, keening high at the back of his throat when Hyunjin twists Minho's body a little to the side so he can lift Minho's right leg straight up with the hold he has on Minho's calf, Minho's sock-clad toes pointing at the vaulted roof. His (Hyunjin's, actually) skirt flips up over his waist and stomach, the fabric swaying along with the movements of Minho's jostling body.

"You're worse," Hyunjin only says, eyes focused on where his cock is sliding in and out of Minho. "Brat."

"Hyunnie—Hyun—"

Hyunjin gives a pleased sigh, throwing his head back a little. "So tight for me, Minho-ya."

"Hyung!"

That makes Mr. Hyunnie slow down.

Minho grows nervous when he realizes what he just said, but then—

"Again,' Mr. Hyunnie says.

"N-No." Minho gives him a watery, shaky glare.

"Again."

At a sharp snap of Hyunjin's hips, Minho cries out a strained "Hyung!"

Hyunjin catches Minho's release with his hand when he finally cums, feeding it back to him so they don't have anything to worry about.

Afterwards, when Mr. Hyunnie steps away to fetch a glass of water for him, Minho sags against the railing with shaky legs, much like that first time Mr. Hyunnie caught him talking to Jisung.

🌞

The last couple of days, Minho's family stayed in the vacation home, so Minho and Mr. Hyunnie had to content themselves with heated glances and brushing touches, and a quick makeout session in Hyunjin's room when Minho "volunteered" to help Hyunjin carry their materials to the dining table. (His father looked delightedly surprised that Minho's becoming a lot better, personality-wise—if only he knew Minho does it all for dick.)

They went for some days without sex, so the next time they're left alone in the house when Minho's family went to visit some attraction or the other, Minho's impatient and antsy and extra bratty.

"Did you forget your manners after just a few days?" Hyunjin scolds coldly, once Minho's done with his little whining tirade.

"I don't want to complete these stupid English sentences! I want you to fuck me! Now!" Minho whines, slamming his pen down on the table with a huff—

Which devolves into a stuttered moan when Hyunjin snaps his hips up, his cock sliding right against Minho's prostate.

Minho jolts in Hyunjin's lap, eyelashes fluttering as he grips his pen tight to ground himself. He shivers from the warmth of Hyunjin's breath on his nape, before the man presses a soft, wet kiss on his skin.

"I won't fuck you unless you finish this exercise," Hyunjin warns, his hands squeezing down on Minho's waist to remind him who's boss.

It makes Minho clench his teeth, because Mr. Hyunnie is really testing his patience here, throwing his power around all the time—but it also makes his skin heat up even more and makes him shift in Hyunjin's lap, biting down on his lip.

"Bold of you to assume I need you to fuck me."

Another swivel of Hyunjin's hips makes a whine slip past Minho's lips.

"Really, Tiger?" A suck on Minho's neck. "You don't need me? Don't need my cock?"

Minho trembles, hissing through his teeth, glaring at the goddamned exercise paper on the desk in front of him before harshly picking up his pen.

"I hate you," Minho grits out, carelessly flipping through the papers of the English exercise with a heavy hand, just to mess with Hyunjin.

"Here, to help you focus," Hyunjin says, before there's a hand snaking around Minho's torso to hold him flush against Hyunjin's chest, the other sliding up Minho's torso and face, two fingers pushing their way between his lips.

Minho's lips part automatically, to Minho's dismay, like he's a dumb dog that's been trained to do so whenever Hyunjin shoves something in his mouth—his fingers, cloth, a piece of his own steak, his cock. He hums around the digits in annoyance, but only once, his body relaxing into Mr. Hyunnie's hold soon enough.

"See, here," Hyunjin says softly, pointing at a question Minho just answered. "It's had eaten, not has eaten. The guest ate first before he left the house last night. It's a past before a past. It's supposed to be in the past perfect tense."

Minho hums, changing his answer to the correct one.

It might annoy him a bit, feeling like a trained little bitch, but the fingers in his mouth actually help him focus, for some fucked-up reason. He doesn't even realize he's mindlessly sucking on Hyunjin's fingers as he focuses solely on the English exercise, answering the questions one-by-one.

He's surprised that he doesn't find it difficult at all, moving from one question to the next smoothly. Damn, Hyunjin has got some real talent. Minho's lashes flutter when the fingers in his mouth press a little into the middle of his tongue.

When he's done, he doesn't give any warning. He just lets himself get lost in the feeling of sucking and licking over Hyunjin's fingers. It's relaxing, in a way. It evaporates all the worries and doubts and aggressive energy that Minho has—here, in Hyunjin's lap, all he has to do is be good and suck.

It's not the first time. Minho's had Hyunjin shove something in his mouth every time they have the privacy to do so.

"See? You're so smart, Minho-ya," Hyunjin praises, ruffling his hair sweetly.

Minho preens.

It's been a long time since he had attention like this.

He quite likes it.

"My little tiger likes my fingers?" Hyunjin asks softly, smiling his warm smile.

If Minho's being generous, he'll say Hyunjin's smile is a bit warmer than the other tutors. Still not as sunshine-y as Felix's, though, but he'll forgive it. It's not artificial, at least.

Minho hums in affirmation.

"And cock," he mumbles out, letting Hyunjin rub his spit-slick fingers all over his bottom lip.

"Why? It makes you feel full?"

Minho nods. "Very full." As if to confirm this fact, Minho clenches down around Hyunjin's cock, hot and solid inside him.

It's almost like a puzzle piece,, Minho thinks. He feels complete with Mr. Hyunnie's cock inside him.

That thought makes him mentally step back in surprise.

What?

Hyunjin laughs, taking Minho's attention before Minho can think too much about his thoughts. "You're so cute when you're soft and pliant." He presses a kiss to Minho's nape. "None of your annoying brattiness, hm?"

Minho's cheeks warm from the compliment.

"Just fuck me already." He whines.

Hyunjin sighs. "Aaaand there it is."

Hyunjin pulls Minho off of his cock before pushing him down on his back on the teak dining table. Somewhere in the trees, a bird calls out. The breeze makes the leaves rustle about.

Minho wordlessly lifts his ass and legs up so Hyunjin can pull his shorts off, making Hyunjin pat his thigh in approval. He blushes.

Minho's practically vibrating out of his skin when Hyunjin finally lines his cock up with his rim. He waits, with bated breath, eager for Hyunjin to slide home and make him feel full again.

Hyunjin doesn't.

"Sir," Minho calls out, extra sweet. He needs Hyunjin now.

He wiggles his hips and tries to push Hyunjin's cock inside himself, but Hyunjin holds his waist and pins him in place.

Minho looks up at him curiously.

"I won't give you what you want unless you say it..." Hyunjin smirks. "In English."

Minho's eyes widen in disbelief, but Hyunjin only lifts a brow and slides his cock into Minho, making Minho choke on his breath. He doesn't move, though—why won't he move, fuck?

Minho's tempted to bitch, to curse Hyunjin until Hyunjin (hopefully) gives him what he wants. He's too needy, though, trembling with the anticipation, almost vibrating out of his skin.

He looks up at Hyunjin with the biggest, sweetest look he can muster, scrambling for all the English lessons Hyunjin's taught him, trying to think through the flurry of haze in his mind and remember words and phrases and fragments—

"Please," he gasps out, hands clawing at the front of Hyunjin's shirt, begging. One word is enough, right? "Hyunnie—"

"Minho, you have to do better than that," Hyunjin tells him, in fluent, flowing English. Minho has to struggle just to understand—normally he would have been able to, easy as pie, but he's currently stuffed full of the best cock he's ever had in his life, and Hyunjin thrusts in torturously slow everytime Minho even comes close to collecting his thoughts. "You're an adult. Talk in a complete sentence."

"I—I want—" Minho gasps.

"Yes, what do you want?"

"Your—your—"

"My what, Tiger?"

Minho whines, cries, because he can't think.

"Shhh, Tiger. Don't cry. You want my cock, hm? My cock?"

Minho nods furiously. "Want—want...cock—"

Hyunjin chuckles, delighted.

"You really are a cockslut."

Soon enough Hyunjin has Minho pressed up to the glass railing of the vacation home's hanging pool, panting little breathy ah, ah, ah's as Hyunjin fucks him in the water, his fingers curled delicately into his palm, pressed against the glass.

"That tongue—" Minho gasps out as Hyunjin licks up the back of his shoulders. Hyunjin likes licking him so much. "It's—"

"Talented," Hyunjin finishes for him—definitely not what Minho wanted to say.

"Is too d-damn wild," Minho corrects.

"If you have this tongue in your ass," Hyunjin teases, "you'll agree with me."

Minho flutters his lashes, blinks. He's never been...eaten out before...

Hyunjin seems to sense that, but Minho ignores the questioning glance he sends him.

"Imagine—imagine if we were on the—ah, the beach." Minho breathes out, tilting his head to the side so Hyunjin can capture his lips in a messy kiss.

He still hasn't stepped foot into the beach, and he's growing impatient. He'll get mad if he doesn't get to go there more than once before the summer ends.

"If you get perfect grades on the long assessment tomorrow," Mr. Hyunnie breathes against his neck, grinding his hips in deep circles into Minho, "we'll go to the beach." He noses up Minho's neck, giving a particularly harsh thrust that makes Minho gasp. "And I'll eat you out there."

The images that flash in Minho's mind make him feel hotter. "R-Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be your reward," Mr. Hyunnie promises. "If you get a perfect score."

Minho hums. That's easy enough, he thinks, then waves thoughts of tongues and beaches away in favor of focusing on the feeling of Hyunjin fucking into him.

"Hyunnie," Minho gasps out.

Hyunjin noses up his neck.

"Hyung," he gasps, "Hyungie—"

Hyunin gives a low, dark chuckle. "'Hyunnie' and 'Hyungie' sound too close to differentiate, Tiger?"

Minho whines.

"It's alright. I'm not complaining," Hyunjin says, chuckling. "Say it again."

Minho hesitates for a bit, until Hyunjin grabs his hair and pulls him close against his chest, almost lovingly. "Again, Minho-ya."

"Hyung," Minho breathes out, forced to look into Hyunjin's eyes when Hyunjin tilts his head to the side. He melts into the kiss Hyunjin presses against his lips, and something warm—golden-warm, not burning, why is it not burning, what is it?—tingles all over his body, makes him feel like he's melting right against Hyunjin.

He thinks he might have, when Hyunjin whispers, "Beautiful."

That makes more cries of Hyung, Hyung, Hyung tumble out of Minho's lips, each one sounding less strange, less foreign than the last, until Minho's scrambling and calling out for his hyung like he's known Hyunnie-hyung all his life.

Around them, the trees' leaves sway gently in the soft breeze; somewhere, a bird chirps out, and it's the perfect picture of peace and quiet—if only Minho isn't being fucked within an inch of his life in the pool, his eyes rolled back in his head as Hyunjin presses sweet kisses into his neck.

Later, as he thinks back on it while lying in his bed, he decides that he doesn't quite want summer to end.

He thinks this might be the best time of his life ever.

🌞

Half of the summer has already gone by, and Minho still hasn't stepped foot into the beach even once.

"I want to go to the beach."

Minho's father's eyes widen the slightest fraction—it's so subtle it would have been easy to miss it, but Minho's an expert at reading the slightest shift in his parents' faces, the unspoken language they speak, so he sees it.

His father glances at Hyunjin, who moves to stand beside Minho and smile his sunshine smile at Minho's parents (that's part of their Operation: Fuck on the Beach plan), almost in awe and pride, before he turns back to Minho, saying, "You're doing well, Minho-ya, your English has improved a lot!" To Hyunjin, he says, "You're doing wonders, Mr. Hyunnie."

Minho almost sneers at Hyunjin, almost acts up and breaks his English just so Hyunjin doesn't get any more praise to inflate his pride—but he's too busy preening at his father's praise himself, basking in it and trying to hide his smile by biting a piece of his steak and chewing it carefully.

"What do you think, Mr. Hyunnie?" his father asks, smiling. "Can we let him go to the beach now?"

Hyunjin gives his brightest, most sunshiniest smile. So it's warm. So it makes Minho feel warm and comforted. What of it? It doesn't necessarily mean he's as bright as Felix...right. "Minho-ya is smart. He already knows all the topics I teach him, and he's a fast learner. We only have one long assessment left to answer, and then the rest of the lessons I'll teach him are more to refresh his knowledge, so it'll be a breeze." He turns to Minho. "He's worked hard. I think he deserves to go to the beach as a reward."

Minho tries his best to wave away the thoughts of rewards and beaches and tongues up his ass.

He perks up when he sees his father nod and his mother smile happily. Felix pats his thigh, excited. "We can finally swim together!"

He's so going to ace this motherfucking assessment.

🌞

Minho hands Hyunjin the papers, heart beating a little nervously, a little anxiously.

Hyunjin, the damn bastard, takes his sweet time checking the assessment. Minho shifts on his seat, watching Hyunjin's hand warily, hanging on the edge of his seat whenever Hyunjin moves to check the next question and sighing in relief whenever Hyunjin puts a big check mark beside it, only for the process to repeat over, and over, and over again. It's a new form of torture, goddammit.

Minho's practically buzzing in his seat as Hyunjin checks the last three questions, all in English.

Hyunjin glances up at him in amusement at the last one. Minho lifts his eyebrow, gesturing for him to check it.

It's the hardest question.

Minho prays to whatever gods are listening to him.

Hyunjin would still give him his reward even if he gets this one question wrong, right? It's just one question! Surely he'll consider...

Hyunjin stares at him.

Hyunjin shakes his head, clicks his tongue. Sighs.

Minho's heart drops.

No.

No, no, no—

Keeping eye contact with Minho, Hyunjin writes a big fat check mark beside it.

"I hate you!" Minho jumps up and hits Hyunjin in the arm, making Hyunjin chuckle and raise his hands up.

"I surrender, I surrender!" Hyunjin cackles.

Minho pouts down at Hyunjin, sniffling. Fucking bastard.

"Hey, hey, come here," Hyunjin relents, seeing that Minho's close to being genuinely upset. He pulls him to his lap, wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose in his shoulder. "You did so well, Minho-ya."

Minho feels warmth spread all over him at those words.

"Are you proud?"

Even Minho doesn't know why he asked that, but...whatever.

Hyunjin looks up at him, smiling. "Very."

So Felix has competition...

"Hi, Minho!" Felix greets Minho through the phone once the call picks up, smile still so bright and happy even in blurry pixels. "We're in the mall we passed by on the way! The shakes here are the best!" Felix holds up a glass of something fruity-colored, and Minho smiles.

He hears their father tease Felix, telling him to hand him his phone and use his own, before Minho's father's face comes on the screen, his mother leaning her head on his father's shoulder and waving at Minho. "You called, Minho?" he asks.

Minho glances at Hyunjin nervously, before clearing his throat.

"Can we go to the beach now?" he says, all in English.

"Is he done with all his lessons for today, Mr. Hyunnie?"

Hyunjin smiles at the camera. "Yes, Mr. Lee." He glances at Minho. "He's done very well on today's work. He got a perfect score on our long assessment quiz."

Minho's mother exclaims in the background in delight, and Felix bobs up and down, clapping happily. Minho's father gives a smile. "That's good. You can go to the beach, then. We'll join you again later."

Minho licks his lips when the call ends.

When he feels a hot, heavy gaze on his nape, he turns around and sees Hyunjin looking at him, hungry.

"Keep your promise," Minho breathes out against Hyunjin's lips, once they part from a quick, messy kiss.

"I wouldn't even think of breaking it," Hyunjin answers, darting his tongue out to lick over Minho's bottom lip.

"I'll clean up," Minho says, turning around to go to the bathroom. For his reward, they both understand.

🌞

Minho's complete.

He stares starry-eyed at the sea, letting his fingers dig into the soft, soft sand. He lets Hyunjin gently pull his head to rest on his shoulder, and he closes his eyes, breathing in the sea air.

"You look like an angel when you're not being a brat," Hyunjin jokes. Minho forgives him for it because of the almost breathy tone to his voice, and he doesn't say anything.

"I'm just happy to be finally on the beach," Minho says, not even bothering to look at him, entranced by the waves in the sea.

"I know." Hyunjin pets his hair. "You're not actually a brat, you know. I was just teasing you."

Minho blinks at him curiously, lifting his head back up. "That's a first," he jokes, "I thought everybody agreed on one thing—that I'm a brat."

"You just needed attention, little tiger," Hyunjin says, giving him a teasing smile, which makes Minho level him with an unimpressed look.

"Fuck off."

Hyunjin chuckles. Then, he grows a bit serious. "Seriously, though. Adolescents like you, we can't force you to respect us. The more we try, the more you'll resist and spite us." Hyunjin looks out at the sea. "What we need to do is earn your respect first and foremost—however we might need to earn it."

Oh. The Tekken guy.

Minho frowns. "But you were rude to me—"

"I wasn't trying, to be honest. I just needed you to understand that I'm in control and not taking your bullshit. That I'm not weak. Be honest, that's your first impression of me, right?"

Minho rolls his eyes.

"I needed to show you that I'm a strong adult, that you can take me seriously and feel safe with me. That I care for you. That you can respect me."

"And the fucking?" Minho raises his brow. "Was that also part of your teaching plan?"

Hyunjin's cheeks burn.

"No," he admits, scratching the back of his head. Whenever Hyunjin gets shy like this, or loses control with Minho, Minho's reminded that Hyunjin's still young himself, after all. "That was a little bit of a selfish decision..."

Minho's brow lifts higher. "Oh, so Mr. Hyunnie is capable of being less than righteous?"

"You are too pretty."

Minho gives him a spoiled little smile.

"You just need to study a little harder." Hyunjin pinches his cheek, making him whine in complaint.

"I just don't see the point. Why do I have to work my ass off for some numbers printed on cheap paper that nobody cares about? Can I eat grades? No." Minho sneers.

"The value's not in the numbers printed on your report card, true enough," Hyunjin says quietly, nodding. The sea breeze ruffles his long hair, makes his strands fly wispily behind him. "It's definitely not a measure of your intelligence. You're a genius, from what I see in our lessons."

Minho stays quiet.

He doesn't deny himself the warmth that spreads in his chest from Mr. Hyunnie's indirect compliment.

"But don't you want to have something to be proud about?" Hyunjin says. "The money you have right now comes from your parents, not from you. The designer clothes you wear are bought with that money. Even looks are dictated by genes."

Minho wonders if these words somehow echo with Hyunjin as well. He sounds like he knows these sentiments, personally.

"They're not things you get from hard work—they're from your luck. You're lucky to be born in a well-off family. You're lucky to have nice genes."

"I know," Minho says. He plays with the sand—pinches it in between his fingers, cups it in his hand before letting it fall through his fingers, slipping from him as quickly as his motivation had, back then. He's always known.

"But your grades...money can buy you passing enough grades. But grades as high as what you could have gotten with your genius...that's something you can attribute to your own talent. Intelligence isn't fixed, so you can't just say all of your genius comes from your genes too. The work and effort you put to get good grades are solely yours." Hyunjin burrows his bare feet in the sand. Their shoes lay to their side, abandoned for the moment. "That's something to be proud of, I think. Even if you don't have anyone you want to make proud, you can do it for yourself."

But that's the thing.

Minho looks at Hyunjin.

He got someone he wants to make proud, now.

He doesn't say that.

"I once had something to be proud about," he says instead.

Hyunjin looks at him. "What is it?"

"Dancing." Minho looks down, circling his finger in the sand. "My grandma used to love to watch me and Felix dance."

"Did you stop?"

Minho hums. "It's not like my parents told me to stop." He hums some more, before continuing, "But they made it clear that they preferred if we focused on studying. If we took a proper profession."

"I didn't take your parents to be the...unsupportive type."

"They can be supportive. When they agree with what we do." Minho looks at Hyunjin. "They're not terrible parents. They're actually nice. They just didn't agree with the dancing thing going beyond being just a hobby. Well," Minho says, shrugging, "there are no perfect parents. I like the ones I've been given well enough."

Hyunjin smiles at those words. "So you're not as immature as you make yourself out to be."

Minho only gives him a roll of his eyes.

"You just miss dancing," Hyunjin says.

"I just miss dancing," Minho agrees.

There's a beat of silence.

"When was the last time you danced?"

"Not long ago." Minho laughs. "I used to skip classes to either fuck or dance. One of the reasons why my parents didn't agree with the dancing, probably." He chuckles. "I just..." He sighs.

Hyunjin waits for him to continue.

"Felix and I used to dance a lot. But Felix stopped, so he can focus on studying. He really worked his ass off for his grades. I didn't understand why he had to stop just for school, though. Maybe that was one of the reasons I also hate school—that it put an end to what Felix and I loved so much. I don't know." He shrugs once more. "Soon enough I grew tired of dancing, too. Maybe because nobody else saw the value in it, so I stopped. Maybe it's a year or two since I last danced."

Hyunjin looks at him. Watches his face.

Then, "Do you want to dance?"

Minho looks at him in surprise. "What?"

"Come on, don't let your youth pass you by without any fun." Hyunjin stands up and dusts the sand off his ass, before holding a hand out to Minho. "Grades are important, but fun is just as important, anyway. What's life if it's so dull and boring, right?"

"You just used that hand to wipe your ass off," Minho complains, but he takes the hand nonetheless and lets Hyunjin pull him up.

Hyunjin does something with his phone, and soon enough a song comes on—after a few beats, Minho recognizes it as Del Mar. He found it because Doja was in it (he was even surprised that Sia was there, too).

"You have taste," Minho quips.

"Since we're on the beach," Hyunjin explains, even though Minho didn't ask. Minho only snorts at him.

Hyunjin takes his hand and starts to sway the both of them childishly.

"I'm fucking rusty," Minho whines, stubbornly keeping his body stiff.

"It's alright. I don't know how to dance, so you don't have to be shy with me," Hyunjin soothes, just as stubbornly pulling Minho around and around.

Minho tries to stop it, but he giggles, and soon enough he's whirling Hyunjin around and around and around like a spinning toy, ruffling his long hair and displacing his glasses. It's not even dancing—they're like children messing around on the beach.

Hyunjin uses the hold they have on each other's arm to pull Minho to him, before swirling him around in a circle and then pushing him back out, moving him in that push-and-pull rhythm of the waves coming and going in the shore. Minho decides fuck it, and goes along with the rhythm Hyunjin starts, the both of them giggling as they wiggle their shoulders along to the flow of Doja's rap, the sand clinging to their feet, soft in between their toes.

Minho lets Hyunjin hold both his hands to pull him close, his back to Hyunjin's chest, Minho's right hand in Hyunjin's left and his left in Hyunjin's right, pulling his arms to wrap around his body. Hyunjin frees a hand so he can move Minho to sensually sway his hips to the beat of the chorus, Hyunjin and the sea breeze swaying along with him.

Minho cocks his head to the side so he can look at Hyunjin, giving him an amused look when Hyunjin pulls Minho's hips flush to his own, grinding his crotch into Minho's ass.

"We're just dancing, Hyunnie," Minho reminds him with a teasing smirk, holding onto the forearm wrapped around his waist, amused at the undeniable bulge poking into him.

Hyunjin only smiles at him, genuine and warm, burying his nose in the curve of Minho's neck, inhaling his scent.

Then he's being turned around, facing Hyunjin. Hyunjin pushes him off-balance, and Minho quickly holds onto Hyunjin with an arm around his shoulders so he doesn't fall, even though Hyunjin holds an arm out, so the possibility of falling was never there. By the giggle Hyunjin gives, it was a move done on purpose. Minho half-glares at him.

"Sway," Hyunjin tells him, patting his hip before looping his arm around Minho's and pulling him flush to his body, their clothed cocks grinding together. Minho gasps, and he knows Hyunjin must feel it warm on his lips, with the miniscule space in between their faces.

Minho licks his lips and bites back a moan when Hyunjin moves his hips in a deep circle, grinding their hips together as he pulls Minho even closer—as if them pulled flush to each other's body isn't close enough.

"Liar," Minho breathes after a while, taking Hyunjin's glasses off so it doesn't dig into either of their faces. "You're a dancer."

It's obvious, from how smoothly and cleanly Hyunjin moves. Even the way he rolls his hips into Minho's looks like a dance in and of itself.

"So maybe I dance once in a while." Hyunjin shrugs, smiling.

"I won't accept that you're better than me," Minho says, pouting.

"You're young. It's not a sin that your moves are still a little childish." Hyunjin chuckles against his lips.

Minho gives him a playful glare at that, digging his nails into Hyunjin's nape.

"I can teach you," Hyunjin says, quirking his lips up.

"Can you?" Minho lifts a brow in challenge.

"Mhm." Hyunjin slides his free hand down Minho's ass, giving his cheek a firm squeeze before sliding down the back of his thigh and lifting it. Minho loosely rests it against Hyunjin's hip.

Hyunjin still has his hold on it when he says, "Like this," and then rolls his body against Mihno's, licking his plump lips as he looks down at Minho darkly. An aborted little noise bubbles up Minho's throat at that, which makes Hyunjin's eyes darken even more. "Go on, do it."

Minho's tempted to retort, but he abandons all attempts in favor of obediently following Hyunjin, rolling his body against him, making sure to grind their cocks together deeply. It makes the both of them moan softly, and Hyunjin leans in to give Minho a quick, sticky-hot kiss.

The song ends, before another takes it place—Woman, and Hyunjin noses up Minho's neck at Doja's dragged-out "need."

"Is this dancing or is this grinding?" Minho says, after a while.

"A little bit of both." Hyunjin chuckles and nibbles under Minho's jaw, making Minho's head tilt back.

Before the song ends Minho's on his back, sprawled on the sand, his shirt unbuttoned and Hyunjin's big hand sprawled across his chest, slowly making its way down his torso.

Hyunjin traces the scar on Minho's stomach before squeezing down on the soft flesh of his tummy. Minho whines and weakly swats at the hand, making Hyunjin laugh softly.

"What? It's cute," he says, giving Minho's tummy one last squeeze before focusing on his nipples, leaning down to take one in his mouth while playing with the other with his hand. Curse this bastard for knowing his body too well.

"Hyunnie—" Minho gasps. As if on cue, the song switches to Often, although The Weeknd's voice is lowered and slowed, the bass going strong. Does this man purposefully make a goddamn playlist, Minho starts to wonder, until Hyunjin gives his bud a harsh suck.

"Rule number one," Hyunjin breathes against his chest, looking up at him through his lashes as he runs his tongue around Minho's nipple.

"S-Sir—" Minho doesn't hesitate, already past the point of holding onto his pride.

Hyunjin leans down and starts to button Minho's shirt, to Minho's distress. "Why—"

"Hurry up. We're going back to the house."

"But why?" Minho whines. He feels like crying. He wants Hyunjin now.

"Don't you want to get stuffed full of cock, Tiger?" Hyunjin asks, brow lifted.

"I can't wait that long!" Minho whines. "Here. Fuck me here—"

"We're on the beach, Minho-ya—"

"It's a private beach," Minho whines, tugging at Hyunjin's shirt, fumbling with the buttons hastily, as if taking Hyunjin's shirt off would leave him no choice but to fuck Minho or something. "Nobody will see us."

"Surveillance cameras and technology exist."

"Yeah, except here." Minho gives Hyunjin a desperate pout, which the man pecks with his own lips.

"There's still a possibility we might be seen," Hyunjin slowly says, breath hot on Minho's neck as he noses up. Then he pulls Minho's hair harshly, making Minho whine and arch up off the sand and bare his neck further. "But I guess that's what you want, slut."

Minho whimpers when Hyunjin sinks his teeth into the dip of his neck harshlt, leaving a long suck as harsh as his bite, making Minho gasp and moan at the pleasant feeling. "You might—"

"Hiding the marks would be your problem since you're such a slut, begging me to fuck you on the beach," Hyunjin growls out, but he only kisses all over Minho's collarbone and chest, not leaving any other marks. Minho closes his eyes and hisses, body heating up from the thought of having Hyunjin's mark on him.

His shirt is almost ripped off of him (thankfully, Hyunjin still has the soberness to make sure that Minho's shirt stays in one piece), and his shorts and underwear come next, thrown haphazardly on the sand somewhere. It's then that they realize, that they remember how unprepared they are, and Minho's eyes widen, clutching onto Hyunjin's arm, not letting him get away.

"Fuck me raw," Minho blurts out, before Hyunjin can get any word out.

"Are you—"

"I'm not leaving this beach until I'm fucked and full of your cum," Minho says, half-glaring, panting as he dares Hyunjin to crawl off of him with his eyes. Hyunjin lets out a moan at his words and at the determined look in his eyes, burying his face in Minho's neck, his big hands tightening around Minho's waist.

"You'll be the death of me, I swear," Hyunjin mumbles against his skin.

He coaxes Minho to release him from the tight hold his thighs have around him so he can prepare Minho, and Minho reluctantly agrees, one hand still clutched around Hyunjin's arm. Beside them, the music fades into the background.

"My reward," Minho reminds him, voice raspy, as Hyunjin kisses down his body, leaving a light kiss on Minho's leaking cock before moving further down. He spreads Minho's thighs apart, humming to say he remembers.

Hyunjin places a kiss against Minho's rim, making it flutter. When that hot, wet tongue teases its tip inside him, Minho claws at the sand, one hand raised up so he can bite into it; when Hyunjin finally pushes the entirety of his slick tongue inside Minho and starts to thrust it in and out, Minho keens, digging his fingers and palm deep into the sand.

Hyunjin pushes his face flat against Minho's sweat-slick skin, wrapping those heavenly lips around his rim and sucking, and Minho's mind whites out, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Him and Jisung's never done this before, both too wary of sticking their tongues in strange places, but oh, god, Minho thinks he should have tried this much, much earlier if he only knew what it feels like—but some part of him wonders, wonders if it'd feel the same if it isn't Hyunjin's tongue.

He doubts it.

"Pretty," Hyunjin murmurs against his skin, lifting his face off of Minho's ass for a moment. His lips and chin glisten with his spit, and Minho wants nothing more than to lick it off. He's limp and boneless on the sand, though, broken from Hyunjin's pleasure.

"Sir, Sir, Sir," Minho babbles, moaning as he writhes. He removes his hand from the sand and tangles it instead in Hyunjin's soft hair, pulling at it with a cry when Hyunjin slides a finger alongside his tongue and immediately speeds up, fucking his tongue and finger inside Minho rapidly. The slide is eased by Hyunjin's slick spit even without any lube, and even then, Minho goes cross-eyed at the delicious pain from the stretch.

Hyunjin goes up to three fingers, spreading Minho's walls apart so his tongue can slide in. Minho arches and moans and sniffles and whines, and he jolts with a cry when Hyunjin's fingers prod his sweet spot.

Hyunjin hums, pleased, before aiming for that spot, pulling off and watching Minho with dark, fiery eyes as he speeds his hand up and abuses Minho's prostate.

Minho's orgasm rips through him without warning, and he doesn't have to worry about keeping quiet, letting his deafening cry of "Sir!" rip out his throat unrestricted. He trembles almost violently on the sand, gasping for breath in harsh pants, trying to curl in on himself but failing with Hyunjin still draped over his lower body and in between his thighs.

Hyunjin crawls up and caresses his cheek with his clean hand.

"Shh, Tiger," he soothes, as a sob of pleasure rips out of Minho. "It's alright, I'm here."

Minho wraps his shaking arms around Hyunjin, pulling him close, needing his warmth.

Minho leans up for a kiss, but Hyunjin pushes him away gently. "Minho-ya, I just had my mouth on your ass—"

"I don't care," Minho whines, weakly, and Hyunjin lets himself be pulled down in a deep, searing kiss.

Hyunjin pulls Minho to his hands and knees on the sand afterwards, pushing down on his shoulder blades until Minho's chest is pressed against the sand, his hips held up by Hyunjin's other hand. Still reeling from his previous orgasm, Minho goes pliantly without a word, the spit-slick cock nudging at his rim making him close his eyes.

"Tell me if it hurts too much," Hyunjin whispers when he leans over Minho's back, pressing a sweet kiss on Minho's shoulder. Minho hums, letting out a stuttered little whimper when Hyunjin starts to press into him.

Minho pillows his head on his forearm at first, but when he starts to feel weak as Hyunjin starts to speed up, he just turns his head to the side and lets himself sprawl on the sand limpli. Hyunjin keeps his hips raised, though, his hands almost wrapping fully around Minho's waist.

"Tiger just needed attention, didn't he?" Hyunjin coos at him. "Wanted to feel loved?"

Minho gives a soft whimper.

"Hyungie is here, don't worry," Hyunjin says, "I'll take care of you."

Minho whimpers from the slight burn of the stretch, spit never quite as slick as lube, but he loves it, loves the raw feeling of Hyunjin spearing him open on his cock. Soon enough the burn fades away, anyway, and Minho's moaning freely, uninhibited, pure pleasure crackling on his nerves and making him feel like he's melting, turning into a boneless mess under Hyunjin's touch.

He starts whining, soon. Hyunjin understands.

His head gets yanked back by a tight grip on his hair, and then three fingers are being shoved in his mouth. He gurgles in satisfaction around them, immediately sucking like he's been trained to do exactly that, his eyes rolling back in his head when Hyunjin shifts his angle just right.

When Minho starts muttering incomprehensibly around Hyunjin's fingers, Hyunjin slows down a little and takes his fingers out of Minho's mouth momentarily. "What is it, Tiger?"

Minho mumbles some more.

"What?"

Minho whines brattily, annoyed and frustrated that Hyunjin can't understand.

"I can't understand, you dumb little tiger. Speak up," Hyunjin says, in that low voice of his that Minho knows to mean that he's slipped in his headspace, a little. Hyunjin lands a light slap on Minho's cheek, and Minho whines pitifully.

"Inside," Minho gasps out, reaching a hand behind him to grasp at Hyunjin's arm. "Cum inside."

Hyunjin is wordless for a moment, and then he speeds back up again, jostling Minho forward on the sand. Minho falls back down on the sand limply, can only whine as Hyunjin fucks into him with purpose, harsh and hard and deep.

"My little tiger wants me to cum inside him? My little tiger wants me to breed him?"

Minho lets out a noise at that, surprised but oh, so turned on.

Before Hyunjin, Minho's never even thought of that, of being bred—he can never get pregnant, after all—but now that Hyunjin said it, it's all Minho can think about, driving him to the brink. Hyunjin inside him, Hyunjin's cum in him, Hyunjin claiming him—it itches at his brain, makes his blood thrum insistently under his skin.

He whines in agreement, pushing his hips back with each thrust, trying to tell Hyunjin that yes, god, he wants, he wants it so bad, he wants, needs to feel Hyunjin warm and thick and delicious inside him, needs Hyunjin's babies in him, he'll be good just for Hyunnie-hyung, he—

He clenches hard around Hyunjin at the thoughts running through his mind.

All shame flies out the window as he whines, "Breed me, please, please," and suddenly Hyunjin's cumming, groaning hard as he leans over Minho and bites onto his shoulder, releasing inside Minho like he's promised, and some part of Minho preens, satisfied at the warmth spurting inside him, happy, so happy—

Hyunjin wraps a hand around Minho's neglected cock, riding out his orgasm as he continues to fuck into Minho while jerking him off, and soon enough Minho's cumming with a ringing cry, spurting on the sand, his second orgasm knocking the breath right out of him.

Hyunjin drops onto the sand beside Minho before pulling Minho to his bare chest, wrapping his long arms around him. Minho snuggles into his chest, sobbing, a few hot tears of pleasure streaking his cheeks as he comes down from his high.

It's the best sex Minho's ever had.

He feels Hyunjin's cum trickling out of his hole, running down his thigh hot and sticky, but he doesn't mind it.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves laving over the shore relaxing and nice. Somewhere, a bird calls out, flying off.

"Are you alright?" Hyunjin gently asks Minho.

Minho nods.

"We need to clean up and get back home before your family does."

"We can just easily swim in the sea. We'll be clean then. Let me rest for a while."

"The poor fish will eat our cum."

Minho whines in irritation.

"Let me bask in my orgasm peacefully for a while!"

Hyunjin only softly chuckles, and caresses Minho's back.

Hyunjin leads a shaky-legged Minho to the water, afterwards. Minho stands for a while, letting the waves lap at his ankles, before they go deeper until the water's up to just below their chest. Hyunjin pulls Minho's back to his chest, wrapping his arms around Minho's waist, and Minho lets himself melt into Hyunjin's embrace, peacefully watching the orange and pink of the sunset starting to creep into the sky.

They end up fucking in the water again, because Minho's nothing if not insatiable, his legs wrapped around Hyunjin's waist as Hyunjin bounces him on his cock, making the water wildly splash around them as they gasp into each other's mouths. Hyunjin cums deep inside Minho again, and his whispered praises of how Minho would look so pretty full and round with his baby sends Minho over the edge for the third time that day.

As Minho trembles from it all, he nuzzles into the warmth of Hyunjin's neck. Hyunjin's so warm.

He's like Minho's personal little sunshine.

🌞

Mr. Hyunnie fucks Minho everywhere—in their rooms, in the pool, on the sand, in the sea. On the floor. Against the wall. On his back, boneless and cross-eyed.

He even bends Minho over the teak dining table, their papers and pens sprawled beside them. Minho has to will himself not to think about the things they did on that table whenever they ate there with his family.

And just like that, summer speeds by, falling through Minho's fingers the way the sand on the beach does.

He hates it.

He wishes he can freeze this last summer day. Sit on the sand with Hyunjin forever.

He thinks that won't be so bad.

"You seem to love that ring," Minho notes, looking over at the ring Hyunjin's playing with again.

Hyunjin smiles softly at him. The mole right under his eye tempts Minho to kiss it, as gently as he can, and he barely holds back the urge to run his hands through Hyunjin's shoulder-length hair and use it to pull him close for a deep, deep kiss.

Hyunjin looks down and takes the ring off. The mild afternoon sun glints off of its silver surface, making it almost twinkle.

"It's from my grandmother," he says.

When Minho tilts his head, waiting for Hyunjin to add more, Hyunjin continues: "It has Lovestay engraved on the inside." He tilts the ring so Minho can peek on the inside, and sure enough, Lovestay is engraved in neat lettering.

"She told me that she and her grandfather only ever met during the summer, whenever my grandpa, then still a young man working in the city, visited the countryside." Hyunjin smiles at the ring. "She said she always got sad whenever summer ended, because it meant grandpa had to leave for the city again."

Minho, for some reason, feels something shift uncomfortably inside him.

He's not the grandma, he thinks, but he feels so bitter about the story.

"But one summer, grandpa gave her this ring. She asked what Lovestay meant." Hyunjin looks at Minho, then. "He said that the seasons might change, that summer might leave and turn to fall...but their love didn't have to leave with it." He puts the ring back on, raising his hand to the sun and admiring the ring. "Their love can stay. Their love will stay."

Minho lets out a breath at that, awed.

"Where...where are they? Your grandparents?"

"They're long gone, back when I was still in elementary." Hyunjin shrugs. "Wherever they are, I'm sure that they're experiencing an eternal summer."

He looks at Minho and smiles.

Sunshine.

True sunshine. He feels like true sunshine.

That's when Minho gets an idea—it's what his mind has been itching for, these past few days. He could never quite articulate what he wanted to tell Hyunjin, but now it comes to him clear as the sky above the sea, and he thinks there's nothing stopping him, so he says it.

"Be my boyfriend," he says, looking unblinking at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin furrows his brows, leaning his head back a little in surprise. "What?"

Minho whines.

"Be my boyfriend!"

"No."

Minho frowns at that, confused.

"But why not?"

They like each other. It doesn't take a genius to see that!

Or...has he been wrong about it?

Minho looks at Hyunjin with wide eyes.

Hyunjin sighs. "You're too young."

Minho gapes at him. "I am an adult!"

"Are you?"

"But you fuck me—"

"Be quiet!" Hyunjin's cheeks turn pink.

Minho pouts and kicks his foot, just to annoy Hyunjin. "Then why not?" he demands. He feels like crying.

Does Hyunjin not want him, after all?

"Relationships take more than amazing sex, Minho-ya," Hyunjin says, using his stern Mr. Hyunnie voice. He furrows his brows at Minho. "And you're young. Discover yourself first before you commit to someone."

Hyunjin seems to think, and then adds, "Graduate first."

"But you alredy fuck—"

"Lee Minho!" Hyunjin crosses his arms. "See, you're still immature. You're not fit for a relationship at all!"

Minho pouts.

He knows, he's aware of his so-called brattiness, but that's exactly it—he's a brat, and he'll push at Hyunjin's buttons until Hyunjin actively stops him, hoping that maybe, Hyunjin will relent.

"But literal children who are years younger than me already date—"

"Minho-ya." Hyunjin sighs. He scuttles closer on the sand, pushing closer to Minho.

He cups Minho's cheek.

"If i'm going to have a relationship with you..." Hyunjin runs his thumb over the jut of Minho's cheekbone. "I'm going to take it seriously. And I'd expect you to do the same."

Something flutters in Minho's chest, beating against his chest like a hummingbird. He feels his cheeks warm, and he knows Hyunjin can feel it underneath his hand, see it on his face. He'll forever deny it, but Hyunjin's words...it did something to him, alright.

Minho pouts. "But I want you now."

Hyunjin gives him a slow, soft smile.

"Minho-ya," he says softly, "you already have me now."

Minho's breath hitches at that. Hyunjin's eyes doesn't seem to want to let Minho's gaze go, and Minho's tempted more and more to kiss that mole every passing second.

"I want it official," Minho manages after a while, protesting weakly, his voice half a breath.

"I just told you. Here." Hyunjin takes Minho's hand and makes him lift his pinky finger up, intertwining it with his own.

"I promise," Hyunjin says, looking into his eyes, as if he knows Minho won't believe him otherwise, won't believe him if he doesn't show him that he's serious enough. "After you graduate college, I'll be your boyfriend."

Hyunjin squeezes their interlocked pinkies together, smiling.

Minho forces out an annoyed huff, even though he feels all light butterfly-ish right now.

"Fine," he grumbles out.

Hyunjin chuckles at that and kisses him on the forehead.

"For now, though..." Hyunjin looks him up and down. "We can enjoy what we already have," he whispers—teasing, suggestive.

"You're doing this all backwards, you dumb teacher." Minho lets Hyunjin pull him over himself, straddling him on the sand. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"You make me dumb whenever I'm with you."

The hand that runs up his thigh makes Minho shiver in delight.

After a teasing smirk, Hyunjin adds, "I think your dumb little tiger brain is infecting me."

Minho swats at him.

And contrary to what he initially felt weeks ago, just when this summer was starting, sitting down and glaring at Mr. Hyunnie who's sitting on the modern Balinese sofa across him and Felix, Minho realizes he doesn't want this summer to end.

As if reading his mind, Hyunjin takes his hands and gently says, "Summer has to end, Minho-ya. Sooner or later."

Minho stares at him, heart rebelling at that idea.

"Summer has to go," Hyunjin repeats.

"Hyunnie..."

"Minho-ya..."

"I don't want this summer to end," Minho confesses, brushing his thumb over the back of Hyunjin's palm as he sniffles.

Hyunjin gives a soft chuckle. "You can't have fallen in love over one short summer, silly."

Minho looks up at him, eyes blazing. "Are you challenging me?"

"No." Hyunjin kisses Minho's forehead.

There's a moment of silence.

Then Minho rests his head on Hyunjin's shoulder and whines. It's not like whining can stop time and grant him an eternal summer, Minho's not that dumb—but Minho whines, just because he can.

"Come on." Hyunjin snorts. "You're being a brat."

"I. Don't. Want. Summer. To. End."

A hand brushes the hair out of Minho's eyes. "Don't confine love to only one season."

Minho peers up at him, pouting.

"It's not like we live in the medieval era, Minho-ya." Hyunjin rolls his eyes. "We have the Internet. We won't not meet each other again."

Minho tilts his head. Yeah, he forgot.

"Fair point."

"Just because summer ends doesn't mean..." Hyunjin trails off, looking at Minho.

After a while of him staring at Minho, with Minho staring back, he finishes, quietly, "Doesn't mean we have to."

Love can stay.

Neither of them says that out loud—they don't think one short summer can give birth to something so deep, so easily...but there's definitely a spark that started, somewhere.

"Mhm," is all Minho says, blinking slowly at Hyunjin.

He can definitely grow up in the meantime, Minho thinks.

He can, for Hyunjin.

🌞

Some of them are crying.

Some of them hold each other as they cry; some are held tightly by their parents, their black tasseled caps tilted on their heads. Their teachers look at them with pride, smiling, clapping.

Minho doesn't cry, though.

He stands there in his loose black robe, his cap secure on his head. It's just a little uncomfortable, making his head sweat, and he pouts as he lightly swats the golden tassel of his cap out of his eyes.

Someone suddenly zooms straight into him from the side, making him let out a small 'oof.' He almost loses his balance, but the person currently hugging him so tightly it's hard to breathe doesn't let him fall, pulling him close to his chest.

"We did it, oh my god," Felix says into his shoulder, swaying the both of them side to side gently. He smiles up brightly—so, so brightly—at Minho, and Minho's chest warms.

"We did it, Lix," Minho confirms softly. Finally. He pets through his twin's hair.

They pull away, but only slightly, with Felix's hand around Minho's waist and Minho's around Felix's shoulder, when their parents come up to them. They're clapping, looking radiant and happy and so so proud, smiling at the two of them. Their mother tries to discreetly wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, but they both see it anyway.

She hugs Felix, while their father pulls Minho into a tight hug, patting his back.

"This is the Minho I know. You've always been talented. A high achiever," his father says, smiling at him. He pats his shoulder. "You've done very well."

Minho gives out an 'oof!' when their father pulls him in for another hug, this one tighter than the last, squeezing Minho and knocking the breath right out his lungs.

"Dad," he mumbles out, voice muffled in his father's shirt, "I can't breathe—"

"Sorry, sorry." His father chuckles, letting him go. When Minho looks at him, he sees him quickly wipe away at the corner of his eye.

"Crybaby," Minho teases, and his father lets out a booming chuckle.

Their father turns to Felix next, and soon enough soft, warm arms encircle Minho. He has to lean down a little so his mother can leave a light kiss on his forehead, and when he straightens back up again she's holding back tears, but one slips out and over her cheek, anyway.

"Your dad and I are so proud, Minho-ya," she says, sniffling. "I can't believe my babies are all grown up now."

"Mom," Minho says, "don't say that!" Still, complain as he might, they both know he still likes it, being her baby.

They hug and talk a few minutes more, before Felix is pulling away, telling them to wait, eyes darting around as if he's nervous. They peer at him curiously as he disappears into the crowd of fresh graduates and their families.

Minho's eyes widen a little when his brother returns, dragging a stutter-y, equally nervous-looking Jisung in his graduation robes and cap.

"Sungie," Minho says, awe in his voice because he already knows where this is going. He's borne witness to these two even before the beginning—kind of like stanning a group predebut. That.

Jisung looks up at him and bites his lip, playing with his hands.

Felix takes a deep breath, facing their parents. "Mom, Dad, Minho," he begins, his deep voice shaky. He clears his throat, before continuing, "This is Jisung. My—my boyfriend."

Jisung and Felix look up at the Lees, tense and nervous.

Minho and his parents look at them for a while, wordless.

Minho's the first to move—he can't let his brother hang like that! Besides, he needs to set a positive example for his parents to follow (hopefully).

He hugs Felix tightly, congratulating him (even though he already knew long ago).

It's not really him Felix and Jisung are worried about, though. When Minho peels himself away from Felix, Felix stills looks over at their parents, shifting from one foot to the other.

Then their mother breaks out into a smile, suddenly, eyebrows scrunching up in fondness.

"My little Lixie," she coos, opening her arms wide and letting Felix snuggle into her and breathe a sigh of relief. "You've done well. I can't ask for any more. I'm happy that you're happy."

Jisung shuffles there awkwardly while their mother hugs Felix, and Minho takes pity on him and leans in close. "Gotta say, I'm gonna miss that sweet dick," he whispers.

That startles a laugh out of Jisung; Minho's glad to see some of the tension in his body seep away a little. "Minnie, oh my god."

They both know Minho's just teasing, and they giggle at the fond memories they have, five long years ago.

Their mother turns to him, finally.

"Jisung-ah," she calls, and Jisung looks up at her, smiling a little. "Congratulations on graduating."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lee," Jisung says, and Minho mentally applauds him for not stuttering or anything.

She pats him on the shoulder. "I wish you and Felix well."

Jisung visibly relaxes at that.

Minho makes a show of threatening Jisung, although it's light-hearted. "If you dare hurt Felix or lay a hand on him, I will personally feed you to the sharks." He waggles his finger. "Or I'll build a big torture chamber for you. I'm an architecture graduate—you know I can."

Jisung laughs at that, rubbing his arm with his hand. "Of course I won't. I love him."

Minho's heart warms for the two of them.

They all turn to their father, who's the last one left quiet. He's studying Felix and Jisung, wordless, and even Minho starts to get a little nervous.

"Honey," their mother calls gently, placing her hand on his arms.

Their father sighs, but it's more of submitted acceptance, rather than disappointment or anger.

"Felix," he begins.

Felix and Jisung tense up, and Minho's ready to defend Felix, shoulders tensing, but then their father continues: "I never imagined my son to have this...preference. Your mother and I had our guesses, but I never took them seriously."

Felix licks his lips, fiddling with his hands.

He gives Felix a small smile. "I hope you and your boyfriend can help me with understanding...this a bit more."

It's the best answer Felix and Minho could ever have expected from their father, and Felix immediately brightens up at that, his eyes growing a little moist. He takes Jisung's hand, and Jisung smiles at him.

"We can, Dad," Felix promises.

Minho smiles, feeling as happy and light as if it were him who got this blessing.

He lets Felix and Jisung converse with their parents more, letting his eyes roam around. He peeks in the crowd, turning around to peer at every face, looking—

There's a light tap on his shoulder.

Minho whirls around, and meets crinkled eyes and a lovely little mole and a bright, true sunshine smile.

"Oh, Minho, fancy seeing you here. I happened to pass by, what a coincidence," Hyunjin says, as if he isn't here specifically to watch Minho graduate, to keep his promise—to find Minho. "It's been a long time."

Minho feels butterflies in his stomach, no matter how cheesy that is, his heart warming so much, too much. He smiles, sweet and happy, itching to touch Hyunjin again.

"We literally had lunch last week after dance practice, you fucking liar."

Hyunjin lifts a brow, and when he warns, teasingly, "Rule number three," Minho almost calls out Mr. Hyunnie.

It's not like it'll be something strange, though; Minho loves to tease Hyunjin with the nickname almost every day.

"A week is a long time," Hyunjin quips.

"Well, what are you doing here, Professor Hyunnie?" Minho asks instead, faking innocence. "You don't teach in this university."

"I don't know." Hyunjin shrugs. "It's not like there's something important for me here, right?"

"I remember a promise," Minho says, lips tilted up in a slight smirk, "made about five years ago."

"Whoever made that promise to you should keep it, no?" Hyunjin pokes his lip with a finger, not-so-accidentally directing Minho's attention to that plump, pillowy softness. "You've waited five years just for it? Wah, amazing."

"They should," Minho confirms, unable to keep the smile off of his face. "I'd fry them in the air fryer if they didn't."

"That sounds scary. Can they not choose tissues instead?"

Minho snorts at that.

"I graduated with highest honors." Minho looks Hyunjin up and down. "I think I deserve a little bonus with that promise."

Hyunjin mirrors his smile—but he still doesn't take any further step, still keeping a foot of distance in between them.

The energy between them buzzes, and it makes Minho giddy, vibrating with excitement.

Finally.

Minho finally has him so close in his grasp.

When the graduates cheer and throw their caps in the air, Minho smiles and does the same, laughing as he throws his cap as high as he can—

Then in one lightning-quick motion he grabs Hyunjin's collar, pulling him in and smashing their lips together, grinning and laughing into the kiss at Hyunjin's surprised noise.

Soon enough, though, Hyunjin's melting into the kiss, the cap that thuds on the ground beside them ignored as Hyunjin grins with him and wraps an arm around his waist, the other cupping Minho's jaw and tilting his head to deepen the kiss—finally, after five years, able to do so in clear view of everyone.

Official. It feels as official as Minho's graduation—and they don't need a diploma for it.

He smiles when he feels a silver ring getting slid on his finger, knowing that Lovestay is engraved inside it.

(L, the photo that gets sent to them by their hired photographer shows Minho's father wide-eyed and his mother with a hand to her mouth, Felix with his mouth wide open and Jisung holding Felix with his face in disbelief, as they all look at Minho and Hyunjin, his tutor for one sweet summer five years ago, locked in a deep, giggly kiss.

Looking back on it, that was the best summer he's ever had.)

- 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘃𝗼𝘁𝗲 Δ