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"You’re a very good teacher. I want to do well for you.” Yongsoo’s lips are chapped, a soft pink tongue parts them, dampens them with shining spit. “So, if last week was my only chance…” His cheeks flush rose red, and it’s strange to see the younger man, so loud and so bold, flustered in this way. “I know can do better.”
Of course Jisung knows that Yongsoo is capable of so much more than his sweat-slicked forehead buried in the crook of his neck, hot breath against clammy skin, and the sticky unfinished feeling of being cummed in before truly being fucked. That’s what he’s afraid of.
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