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Soobin worked so hard to get where he is.
Countless nights of cooping himself up in the library, missing out on parties, dates, whatever else normal college students do. He wouldn’t know, he was too busy working for this; his place in one of the nation's top law schools.
Soobin has had his life meticulously planned from the time he was in the sixth grade. Make good grades; go to the best state college; work his ass off; go to a top 14 law school; excel.
He lined everything up to go perfectly, he knew the kind of people who went to law school, knew that he could shove his head into books and continue to over perform. He's well on his way to hitting every goal on his list with ease.
He never planned for Choi Yeonjun.
“Second?!” Soobin screeches when the Dean called him into her office to deliver the news of his 'success.'
“Yes! Congratulations!” she cheers, hands thrown into the air. “It’s truly the highest honor to be in the top ten of the class!”
Choi Yeonjun; smug, beautiful, careless.
They met in their first year torts class after Soobin had spent the majority of orientation lurking on the outskirts of the crowds. He didn’t come to law school to make friends, he came to excel. He knew of Yeonjun from observing the groups of students milling across the courtyard during the welcome sessions, he immediately despised how easily and happily he drew all the attention to himself. He's magnetic.
In torts, though, their professor insisted on an alphabetical seating chart. Archaic, if you ask Soobin; he remembers thinking that she’d probably go straight down the alphabet for her call list as well (she did). So he got stuck between the two Choi’s in his year. Choi Beomgyu, an obnoxious, barely-twenty-year-old that graduated high school much too young, and Choi Yeonjun.
Yeonjun walked into class late, as if Soobin’s opinion could already be lower of him. He sent Soobin a smarmy smile when he dropped into the bench on Soobin's left at the professor's instruction. Soobin hated him before he even had a chance to speak.
When he did speak, though, Soobin’s suspicions were confirmed. Cocky, voice dripping with honey, Soobin knows the type. The type to butter you up, get you all warm and compliant before bringing down the hammer. Soobin wishes he could make Yeonjun bend the way the other man is so used to bending others.
Girls and boys alike crowd around Yeonjun after class, asking him what he’s doing over the weekend, asking him out, asking him for help with problems. Soobin’s hands begin to make permanent imprints of crescent moons on his palms where his nails dig in.
Most of what he learns about Choi Yeonjun that first year is against his will, either from Beomgyu leaning over him to talk to the man, not a care in the world about Soobin’s personal space, or from murmurs and whispers of their classmates, Yeonjun’s name always on their lips.
Choi Yeonjun doesn’t try like Soobin tries. He goes out every weekend, sometimes even on Tuesday and Thursday. He gets drunk and sleeps around, he flirts in the hallways and goes home as soon as his classes let out. Professors love him, much to Soobin’s chagrin. He’s charming.
Soobin ranks first in class during their first year, just as he expected he would.
He doesn’t bother to inquire about who fills the spots behind him; it should be a non-issue.
Most of what Soobin learns about Choi Yeonjun during the next year is against his will as well.
They both earn spots onto the same journal; the most prestigious one in the school, the Law Review, two of the few selected. Yeonjun makes it his solemn duty to make Soobin’s life hell.
Soobin has always worked better at night, the calm it brings to school buildings, void of other students, the sounds of crickets chirping at the windows, the chill of the breeze when he takes breaks and steps outside. He highly doubts Yeonjun shares his proclivity for studying at night based on the hazy stories of bars and parties he hears, yet, Soobin starts finding Yeonjun hanging back later and later in the journal office. The office is more of just a large conference room, there's no way to separate himself from Yeonjun's right to simultaneously occupy the space.
He comes to know about Yeonjun because the man is impossible to keep quiet. He talks and talks, and Soobin has no choice but to listen. Soobin is stubborn, he won’t be run out of his office space by an annoying brat who will get tired of him eventually, just like they always do.
Yeonjun went to undergrad on the west coast, he likes to surf, he’s close with his mom. He wants to know things about Soobin, but Soobin won’t tell him, so he starts asking around.
“Choi Beomgyu has a big mouth, Binnie,” he simpers one day, chin resting on his hand, blinking his annoyingly pretty eyes at Soobin across the conference table. “He told me all about how you went to school in the midwest, and that you’re less mean than you look. He said you’re sweet on your sisters, that he’s never seen you reduced to such mush as when you’re talking to them. That’s cute, Bin. Why are you hiding your cute from me?”
Soobin rips Beomgyu’s bluebook in half that weekend in retribution.
Soobin and Yeonjun are like a growing flame, each time they butt heads the burn gets a little hotter, the flames lick a bit higher. Soobin should be ready for the snap.
They’re getting to the point where they have to share their work, talk about the pieces they’re writing for journal in a race to be published. Only a few students get their work published each year; it is critical to Soobin’s plan that he be one of them.
He’s writing his article about tax restrictions on transnational corporations. He’s always been interested in tax law, he likes how it controls every person he meets but few know how it actually functions. When he gets his first grade back from their supervising professor, he exceeds expectations, nearly a perfect score.
Expectations, what a funny thing.
His expectations surely don’t include the professor standing at the head of the table and announcing that the highest grade went to Choi Yeonjun and his note on the latest wave of laws attacking transgender and gender non-conforming youth. Yeonjun preens under the praise, Soobin knows because he’s boring holes into the man’s skull the entire time.
That night Yeonjun prances into the office, massive grin on his face. Soobin scowls, looking back down at the statute he’s parsing through.
“Soobinnie, aren’t you proud of me?” Yeonjun sing-songs.
Soobin doesn’t respond, brow aching from where it’s holding a deep crease.
“I knew my writing was good, but I didn’t expect that!” Yeonjun continues, really hammering the stake into Soobin’s chest. “Especially not against someone as perfect as the Choi Soobin.”
Soobin’s eyes burn as he scans his computer screen, he’s going on four hours of reading without a break.
Yeonjun pauses, probably looking at him in an annoying way, and then prances over and sits right on top of the table next to Soobin’s things. “You’re a sore loser, huh?”
“Fuck off, Yeonjun,” Soobin hisses, eyes still painfully glued to his laptop.
One of Yeonjun’s long fingers drops to the back of Soobin's hand, teasing circles into it. Soobin immediately smacks him away.
“Soobinnie can’t handle being in second place, huh?” Yeonjun continues, voice verging on a whine.
Soobin breaks, shoving his chair back to get some space, it rolls until he taps against the wall behind him. He managed to put a few feet between him and Yeonjun, where the other is still prettily perched on the table. Soobin’s hands press into his eyes hard enough that he sees stars.
“Do you think you’re better than me, Soobin? Is that it?” Yeonjun asks.
When Soobin finally opens his eyes the man is cocking his head, his long black hair framing his delicate face. Everything about Yeonjun is aggravating to Soobin. His sharp, intense eyes, his perfectly messy hair, the silver hoops that hang from his ears. The way his lips are pink and plush, dipping on both sides into a delicious pout. In his most bare and vulnerable moments Soobin imagines how Yeonjun’s lips would look stretched around his cock, Soobin’s fingers framing his chin, pressing hard enough that Yeonjun whimpers.
“You think you deserved number one?” Yeonjun keeps poking. “Think I belong under you?”
Yeonjun is playing a dangerous game. They both know it. They both know that they’ve been hanging on the precipice of something fueled by tension and emotion for weeks.
Soobin is sure his eyes are pooling with darkness in the way Beomgyu says makes him look scary. “Yes,” he grits, honestly.
“Prove it,” Yeonjun says, low and even, taking twice the time he usually would to hang on each word.
So that’s the first time it happens.
After the snap. After Yeonjun has riled him up to such a degree that he can’t even begin to bring himself back to earth before he’s on the other man, one big hand pressed to the small of his back, one gripped harshly into his hair, Yeonjun keening up to meet him, back arched, legs locking around Soobin’s hips from his place on his pedestal.
Yeonjun kisses like his time is running out, like it’s seconds before the world is ending and he needs to make it count. He tastes like coffee, as bitter as his presence, but each whine and whimper Soobin pulls from his mouth tastes impossibly sweet.
Soobin knew that Yeonjun would like this; to be reduced to a begging mess, needy, absolutely desperate. Soobin knew, because Yeonjun has matched his posturing every step of the way and balanced him perfectly. It's only natural that Yeonjun balances him perfectly in this way too.
There’s a metaphor about the scales of justice in there somewhere.
Soobin likes to lie to himself. It’s a great tool for studying if he utilizes it well.
He lies to himself seconds before his lips meet Yeonjun’s for the first time, when he tells himself that this will only happen once, a release of the pressure cooker that’s been building between them.
He doesn't knows it’s a lie until he has Yeonjun laid out in front of him, pants around his ankles, hands grasping helplessly over the smooth surface of the table, finding no purchase. When Yeonjun gasps and breathes like he’s something precious, when he says, begs, rather, “Please, I want you to fuck me, Bin.” He knows it’s a lie because he wants that too, but they can’t right now. He knows it’s a lie because he wants it enough to do this again, as many times as it takes.
Yeonjun cums with a wonderful noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Soobin takes it in with his mouth, bites at Yeonjun’s bottom lip until he’s making more pretty noises.
When Yeonjun gets on his knees and swallows Soobin down until there’s tears beading at the corner of his sharp, intense eyes, and doesn’t let up until Soobin is dripping down his throat, hand tangled in his wild hair, Soobin knows it’s a lie. He’d do anything to have Yeonjun again, just like this.
Soobin still considers the things he learns about Yeonjun during that second year as against his will, because it’s less embarrassing than admitting that he’s pulling out shards of information in their own twisted dance of foreplay.
Yeonjun is here on a scholarship, a full ride, he did exceptionally well on the LSAT. Soobin bends him over the desk and fucks him until he can’t do anything but babble.
Yeonjun has ADHD, that’s why he has to move around a lot instead of staying in one place to study. Soobin sucks a smattering of dark marks into his neck as he bounces on his cock.
Yeonjun doesn’t care to do any sort of law other than public interest, even if he doesn’t stand to make much money. Soobin calls him beautiful on accident, right as he bottoms out, and then he laces their fingers together, holding their hands firm to the surface below as he fucks Yeonjun slow and deep.
It doesn’t leave the conference room until it has to. Soobin only feels a little guilty about using such a public place as their personal playground, but it only happens in the cover of the night. It only happens in the cover of the night and when Yeonjun looks at him across the table at one of their journal meetings and licks over the swell of his bottom lip making Soobin’s mouth goes dry. He grows humiliatingly hard in his jeans at the thought of what they’ve done on the table they sit at during the day.
It has to leave the room when it’s winter break and the school is locked and Soobin is too weak a man to hit decline on the call Yeonjun makes only a week into not seeing each other.
Much too weak a man to deny Yeonjun when he’s already breathy and desperate over the phone.
Too weak a man to dole out any less than overzealous aftercare, extending long past the time he should be safe to go, when Yeonjun is fully back in his mind, teasing and laughing and throwing his arms and legs around Soobin and asking him to stay the night.
He knows exactly who’s fault it is when the words ‘Ranked Second’ ring in his ears, blearily stumbling down the hall towards the conference room. He knows exactly where to find the source of his problem.
Despite it all, he has the wherewithal to lock the door behind him.
“Bin?” Yeonjun looks up in that sweet way of his. “Why are you here? Not that I’m complaining–”
“Fuck you,” Soobin cuts in, leaving Yeonjun’s mouth hanging open.
Yeonjun blinks, shakes his head a bit, laughs. “Sorry? Isn’t it a bit early for this? Anyone could walk in–” Yeonjun’s words turn to a squeak when Soobin manhandles his chair backwards, lifts him onto the table by his petite waist. Yeonjun still seems surprised, but his arms come up automatically to hook behind Soobin’s neck.
“I locked the door. It’s the last day of the term, everyone’s gone,” Soobin practically growls, hands pressing into the supple flesh at Yeonjun’s waist until the other whines, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.
Soobin wants him. He always wants him so badly it hurts. He’s the most beautiful thing Soobin has ever wanted in his entire life, the only thing he’s done for himself, and not the expectation of others.
“You’re fucking me over, Yeonjun.”
Yeonjun looks up at him, lip sliding out of his mouth, wet with spit, eyes glassy. “How?”
“You’re distracting me,” Soobin groans as Yeonjun sneaks one hand from his neck to crawl beneath the hem of his shirt, nails dragging up his stomach. “My fucking ranking fell.”
“Oh?” Yeonjun sucks in a sharp gasp when Soobin wraps his fingers around his wandering wrist, pulling it out from where it’s rutting up Soobin’s shirt. “Are you that obsessed with me?” Yeonjun asks, voice tiny, edging on insecure.
Soobin can see right through him in these moments, not that they happen often, when Yeonjun drops the cocky act and questions whether he’s worth it.
“You know I am, Jun,” Soobin breathes, only inches from Yeonjun’s lips.
Yeonjun lets out a strangled whimper, leaning his chin even closer. “Prove it.”
Soobin kisses him like it’s the end of the world, like it’s the last day they’ll be alive and it’s his only chance to let Yeonjun know how much he adores him.
What comes next is natural, routine, even.
“You have to keep quiet for me, baby,” Soobin pants when his fingers have pulled one too many piercing moans from Yeonjun’s chest.
Yeonjun nods, always the good listener.
But maybe Soobin thought too soon, because when he removes his fingers Yeonjun whines again, louder than before at the emptiness.
“Hush,” Soobin warns, shoving his tongue in Yeonjun’s mouth to sate him. Yeonjun sucks on it, and Soobin should have known.
He pulls away long enough to roll on a condom, lube himself up, supplies they've begun carrying with their normal school supplies long ago. Yeonjun watches, he looks hungry for it, when Soobin lines his cock up to push home, Yeonjun’s pillowy lips fall open, a silent ask.
Soobin gives, because he’s come to understood that he’d give Yeonjun anything he wants. It’s practically written on the back of his hand, as easy for him to recite as the state tax code.
He drops two fingers onto Yeonjun’s waiting tongue, hissing when the man greedily takes them in, whimpers vibrating around Soobin’s digits.
“Shit, baby,” Soobin is nearly cooing. “My pretty baby. So good to me- such a lovely distraction.”
Yeonjun’s mouth threatens to fall open on the first thrust, eyes watery, moan loud even through the fingers reaching to the back of his tongue. Even still, he keeps his lips dutifully wrapped around Soobin.
“Good boy,” Soobin praises. He's so fond.
It never gets less intoxicating, the warm tightness of Yeonjun wrapped around him. How wet and willing Yeonjun always is to please, to let Soobin bend him in whatever shape he wants, putty in his hands.
Soobin doesn’t think anyone will ever be able to satisfy him again. He should have known the first time he laid eyes on Yeonjun, because he felt the magnetism too. He just never had the faintest idea that Yeonjun would ever want him in return.
They’ve talked about it before, how Soobin’s issues come from insecurity. Yeonjun calls him beautiful, Yeonjun makes him believe it, Yeonjun makes him feel like his worst qualities can be strengths.
It’s overwhelming, the feeling of it all. He retracts his fingers, slotting their mouths together before Yeonjun can complain. This is much better. He remembers where they are, that this is dangerous, he picks up speed, pressing his hand, still slick with spit, against Yeonjun’s lower stomach.
He knows Yeonjun’s body as well as his own. He knows that with the pressure of his hand and from this specific angle he’ll be able to feel himself bulging inside. That the steady prod of his thrusts is landing on Yeonjun’s prostate every time.
Their kisses become wet, messy, barely landing as they race towards the finish.
It’s Soobin’s fault that Yeonjun’s mouth is unoccupied when they cum, both of them nearly in time (they’re perfectly balanced, after all), and a loud, breathy moan rips from his lips, “Ah, Soobin!”
Soobin frantically clamps a hand over Yeonjun’s mouth, muffling the sounds of the aftershocks, watching as the other’s eyes roll back into his head. He always finds himself a captive audience watching Yeonjun cum. He loves it. He loves knowing he’s responsible.
They come down together, breath evening, but Soobin forgets to remove his hand until Yeonjun licks his palm.
“Ew,” he complains, as if what they’ve just been doing hasn’t been much more illicit.
Yeonjun smiles prettily, leans in to peck his lips. “Sorry, I’ll get hard again if you keep that up.”
Soobin smirks, knowing the power he has over this lovely, beautiful boy, knowing the power Yeonjun has over him in return. “Is it wrong of me to ask you to prove it?”
“Yes!” Yeonjun smacks his shoulder. “We’re already pushing it!” he side eyes the door. “We have all summer for you to prove it.”
Still, after they clean up and pull themselves together, Soobin kisses Yeonjun until his jaw is sore, but he's still not sick of it. They only stop when a sharp knock sounds at the office door.
“Why is this locked?” Beomgyu’s voice floats through the frosted glass. “Aw, are you guys fucking in there again? It’s the last day of school! Give it a rest!”
Soobin hears a lot of things about Choi Yeonjun on that last day of his second year, though one conversation in particular stands out.
“I heard that he’s subleasing an apartment in the city over the summer with his boyfriend.”
“No shit!”
“I know. I wish I knew who it was, I never even got a chance to shoot my shot before he stopped hooking up with people.”
“Someone told me it was Choi Beomgyu.”
“Figures. He’s hot.”
Yeonjun doesn’t admit it until the middle of June, when they’re sprawled on the couch of their subleased apartment, windows open, evening breeze doing almost nothing to puncture the humidity in the air.
Soobin is laying on his boyfriend’s lap, hair a bit damp with sweat, Yeonjun playing with his loosened tie, both of them still in their work clothes.
“I have something to tell you,” Yeonjun murmurs, fingers dancing over the sliver of Soobin’s chest he’s exposed by undoing the top buttons of his crisp dress shirt.
Soobin gazes up at him, one eye squinted closed. Sometimes it’s hard to look at Yeonjun straight on; he’s much too pretty. “What?”
Yeonjun hesitates, fingers tangling nervously in the silk attached to Soobin’s neck. Soobin manages to open his other eye, bringing a hand up to soothe Yeonjun’s worrying fingers, they fit together perfectly.
“I was ranked first in the class this year,” Yeonjun squeaks, wincing as he says it.
It’s fitting, Soobin supposes, that this fact of Choi Yeonjun's magnificence was also learned against his will.
He gapes up at his boyfriend, jaw slack. Yeonjun looks like he has no idea what to expect. Soobin laughs, it’s punched from him in a huff, followed closely by a string with more substance.
Yeonjun smiles then, teeth clamped into his bottom lip.
Soobin sits up, tugging at Yeonjun until the man clambors onto his lap, right where he’s meant to be.
“You’re not mad?” Yeonjun asks quietly.
Soobin looks up at the one thing he never planned, the one thing he never expected, the man that buttered him up and broke him down until he came to terms with being the biggest fool in the world; absolutely bent, happily so, at Choi Yeonjun’s feet.
“I love you,” he says, the first time either of them have said it out loud.
He still takes pleasure in surprising Yeonjun, even after everything. At the way his lips part a bit and his eyes widen. He loves everything about it.
“I–” Yeonjun falters, Soobin’s thumbs are already placed and ready to catch the tears that are seconds from falling from his beautiful, intense eyes. “I love you too, Binnie,” he sniffles, and there’s the tears. “So much.”
They kiss like it's forever.