Ao'nung is sitting next to Neteyam in their shared biology lecture when the archer suddenly perks up and turns to whisper to him.
"Hey, Nung," he murmurs tenderly and places a hand over Ao'nung's own. "I just realised. We never asked each other to officially start dating."
Ao'nung tilts his head. "Wow, you're right. I did show up at your house with huge flowers, though."
"I pressed the petals into my journal," Neteyam admits quietly, a sweet smile gracing his features.
Ao'nung's heart flutters wildly in his chest at the endearing little smile adorning his beloveds freckled cheeks. "What else did you do with my gifts, baby?"
Neteyam flushes, clearing his throat. "Obviously, the ikran plush is at home."
Ao'nung grins coyly and leans over, wrapping an arm around Neteyam's shoulder, reaching over him and fiddling with the atokirina patterned bracelet he'd gifted him months ago. "I know that, darling. What about this pretty little armband?"
Neteyam lowers his gaze, sucking his lower lip in and chewing on the soft flesh. "It's right there, Nungie."
Ao'nung gazes at him fondly, searching his face for what he's feeling. "You're a little shy today, sweetheart."
Neteyam coughs quietly and glances towards the professor, but she doesn't seem to notice them. "You keep calling me pretty names."
Ao'nung follows the motion with his eyes as Neteyam's delicate fingers fiddle with his darling little ring nervously and leans a breath closer, lips almost touching Neteyam's ear. "How could I not call such a pretty boy pretty names?"
Neteyam whines in protest and pulls away, curling in on himself. His eyes dart around the lecture hall, but it's large enough that the many students are spread out widely and nobody seems to notice their antics.
"Nung, please."
Ao'nung raises a brow in amusement. "What is it, Tey?"
Neteyam swallows thickly and crosses his legs, wrapping his arms around himself. Ao'nung lowers his gaze to the shorter male's lap and smirks, eyes twinkling in a mixture of amusement and mischief. The surfer's hand settles heavily over the bare skin of Neteyam's thigh; he's wearing pale linen shorts and a baggy black T-shirt. His white sneakers are a little dusty and his socks have little dots on them. Ao'nung takes in all that he is and squeezing his thigh gently, hand slipping higher.
Neteyam tenses, tugging his bag into his lap, over Ao'nung's hand, but he doesn't seem to pull away. "We're being rude. Nobody wants to see this."
"Nobody's watching," Ao'nung whispers lovingly, though not without a hint of arousal.
"I want to go home—" Neteyam chokes out, breathing heavily, pupils wide. His eyes continue darting around the room as Ao'nung slips his pink under the fabric of his pantleg.
The surfer's grin is so wide, he's showing off all his pearly whites. "There's only twenty minutes left, Neteyam. That's not a lot, I'm sure you can easily sit through that."
Neteyam exhales slowly, shuffling his feet; his jaw twitches as he chews on the skin inside his mouth, lost in thought and feeling for a moment before he heaves a dejected sigh and hangs his head, braids falling forward over his shoulders, hiding his face. Ao'nung pouts, immediately missing the sight of Neteyam's flat, wide nose and his darling little milkyway of freckles. He shifts his hand just a little higher, above the fabric of Neteyam's shorts, and grasps him at the highest point of his thigh, fingers easily dipping in the bend of his leg, so close yet so far from the spot burning with fire — Neteyam's breath hitches.
Ao'nung massages his flesh slowly, leaning back casually and pretending to pay close attention to the petite woman in noisy heels as she walks around the front of the class, pointing to various things on the slides she's projected onto the enormous white sheet rolled down over the blackboard.
Neteyam closes his eyes tightly, jaw clenched as Ao'nung continues touching him — so dirty and yet do not enough.
"Please," Neteyam whispers out.
Ao'nung barely hears him despite sitting so close. The surfer doesn't turn to look at his lover, only hums, shaking his head. "We're staying, baby. This is important."
Neteyam curses under his breath and covers his mouth, hunched forward, hugging his backpack. His toes curl uncomfortably in his shoes and he wonders if he should just drag Ao'nung straight to the forests nearby or go home — but both Lo'ak and Tsireya are home and they'd chat first.
Knowing Ao'nung, he'd do it on purpose, too.
Lately, Neteyam finds himself tortured with barely there touches, worked up until he feels ready go burst — Ao'nung is there, smirking down at him and ghosting his hands over spots so close to where Neteyam needs him, but never quite there, not until the last moment.
Neteyam could cry with relief each time Ao'nung would finally wrap a hand around his burning heat, or slip a finger inside him after a good hour of just tracing patterns along his skin.
But now they're in public and Neteyam is burning with both shame and desire.
Neteyam doesn't feel like listening — he swiftly stuffs his notebooks into his bag and stands, chair making some noise that turns heads. It's because of these curious eyes that Ao'nung doesn't just pull him back down to sit. He doesn't want to humiliate Neteyam. That's not what this is about.
Neteyam exists the hall hurriedly and enters the closest bathroom, locking himself in the cleanest looking stall. He leans against the door and places a hand over his wildly beating heart.
Someone else enters.
"Tey, are you in here?" Ao'nung calls out carefully. "Are you hurt?"
Neteyam sighs out through his nose and unlocks the door, stepping out. He doesn't quite meet Ao'nung's eyes, only shakes his head slowly.
Ao'nung steps up to him and cups his cheeks with both hands, tilting his head up. "Was it too much?"
Neteyam's lips part before he relaxes and simply steps close, resting his head on Ao'nung's shoulder, an arm wrapped loosely around his waist, the other clutching his bag.
"I just can't wait anymore."
Ao'nung grins, ghosting his lips over Neteyam's cheek lightly before pressing a sweet kiss on the heated skin. "I'm right here."
Neteyam scrunches his nose and swats at Ao'nung's side, his voice low and quiet. "This is a public toilet, you're not getting anything here. It's gross and smells like bleach."
Ao'nung pulls back and laces their fingers. "Let's go home then, darling."
Neteyam scoffs. "Okay, honey."