The hem of Wei Ying’s skirt dangles dangerously between his spread legs, barely helping to conceal his panties from view under the desk. Luckily, his seat is in the front row, so there’s no one to stare at them as Wei Ying slouches in his chair, lazily following the lecture. Well. There is no student to stare at him.
His teacher stands in all his tall, handsome glory at the front of the classroom, eyes pointedly avoiding Wei Ying as he scans the classroom while he teaches. His necklace shines even in the drab classroom light, the thin gold chain and deep blue gem clashing with the rest of his outfit. A gift from his wife, Wei Ying knows. Lan Zhan would never choose something so garish.
Wei Ying giggles under his breath, sitting straighter. Lan Zhan should’ve known better before seating him in the front row. Before, at his seat in the back, he would talk sometimes, sure. Maybe doze off a bit if he was bored enough. So Lan Zhan had moved him front and center, right in front of the teacher’s desk. To help him “focus.”
Too bad for Lan Zhan, the only thing the new seat helps Wei Ying focus on is his teacher, endlessly teasing him while still not paying any attention to the words falling out of his mouth.
Wei Ying glances over at the clock, wondering how much longer until class is over. It’s the last of the day, and Lan Zhan is known to leave promptly after class ends. Five more minutes left.
Wei Ying spreads his legs wider, watching as Lan Zhan’s eyes flick to his for a second before ignoring him again. Wei Ying huffs, closing his legs and crossing his arms. If Lan Zhan doesn’t want to pay attention to him, fine! Wei Ying has his home address. And his personal phone number. And his wife’s number. And her work address. Point is, Wei Ying has points of access. He can bother Lan Zhan whenever he likes! And Lan Zhan has to pay attention to him eventually!
When Lan Zhan finally announces the end of class, Wei Ying packs slower than everybody else, chirping his goodbyes as people pass by him to reach the door. When everyone else is out, he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks towards the doorway. “Wei Ying,” he hears the smooth voice of Lan Zhan call out before he can leave.
Wei Ying doesn’t turn to face him, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Yes, Lan Zhan?”
He can practically see Lan Zhan bristle at the overfamiliar form of address. Wei Ying hasn’t called him Laoshi while they were alone in months, and he doesn’t plan on starting again anytime soon. Or ever again, really.
Lan Zhan, while definitely annoyed, does not bother correcting him. He sighs and Wei Ying hears him step behind his desk, the chair creaking as he sits down. “Pull your skirt down, that’s all. Have a good weekend.”
Wei Ying backs one step from the doorway, grabbing the knob and swinging it closed. The lock clicks into place and Wei Ying flicks the lights off. “I thought my skirt was cute, though…”
Wei Ying spins on his heel and smiles at his teacher, skipping over to him. Lan Zhan is sitting at his chair as expected, typing on the open laptop on his desk. Lan Zhan narrows his eyes at him. “I never said it wasn’t cute; the length is just inappropriate. Next time you wear a skirt to school, be mindful of how short it is.”
Wei Ying hums, tracing a finger up Lan Zhan’s forearm. “So you think it’s cute, too? I couldn’t tell. Lan Zhan wouldn’t look at me all day.”
“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan smacks his finger away, resolutely keeping his eyes on the laptop screen.
“Lan Zhan!” He parrots back, laughing as Lan Zhan’s ears redden. Wei Ying hops atop the desk, swinging his legs as Lan Zhan types away. “Aren’t you usually headed home at this time? What would Qingyang think?”
The mention of his wife makes Lan Zhan’s fingers pause on the keyboard. Taking advantage of his hesitation, Wei Ying puts a finger atop the laptop screen and starts to slowly push it closed.
“Oh, but it’s Friday today, huh. She’ll be stuck at work for another three hours, right? Hoping to see your face once she finally makes it home.” He moves the laptop out of the way, scooching over so that he’s sitting directly in front of Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan looks at him warily, fists clenching where they rest on either side of Wei Ying’s thighs.
“You usually cook for the both of you, don’t you? Ever the househusband. Do you wash the dishes for both of you afterward? Maybe massage her feet as you two watch TV?”
Wei Ying leans in closer, placing his lips mere centimeters away from Lan Zhan’s. “Fuck her into the mattress while she screams for you?”
All of a sudden Wei Ying is pulled into Lan Zhan’s lap with a crash. He yelps, grasping at Lan Zhan’s shoulders to steady himself. “Lan Zha—mmf!”
Lan Zhan’s lips crash into his, and his hands wander to Wei Ying’s ass, flipping up his skirt to grasp at the panties underneath. “Can’t even keep your legs closed for five fucking minutes. So easy. So fucking easy.” Lan Zhan growls against his lips.
Wei Ying moans as Lan Zhan bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Lan Zhan, gege, please, I need you.”
“I don’t care.” Lan Zhan moves to suck at his neck while pushing his panties to the side, easily sliding a finger into his wet cunt.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying gasps, holding on tighter to his teacher’s shoulders. “Th-that’s mean! And unfair! You can’t do that without warning me fir— ah!”
Lan Zhan crooks the finger inside of him pulling out before thrusting back in harshly. His other hand snakes from his ass to the front of Wei Ying’s skirt, pushing it out of the way to rub a thumb over Wei Ying’s clit from above his panties. Wei Ying bucks into his hand, chasing the pressure, but Lan Zhan gives nothing else, keeping his hand still.
“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. Don’t be so cruel to your poor mistress. I’ll be so good for you, I am so good, don’t be mean to me. It’s not all- owed!” Lan Zhan slides another finger into her, scissoring her harshly. As Wei Ying gasps in Lan Zhan’s lap, Lan Zhan apparently decides that it's the best time to torment Wei Ying, pushing his thumb back against Wei Ying’s clit and massaging in slow, agonizing circles.
Wei Ying sobs as Lan Zhan inserts yet another finger, already feeling overstimulated from Lan Zhan’s hands all on him and his mouth sucking dark marks into the side of his neck. “In-Inside. I want you inside, Lan Zhan, please.”
Lifting Wei Ying’s thighs a bit, Lan Zhan pulls his fingers out getting a choke out of Wei Ying. “Then put me inside.”
