iliad ; wonhee

“Tastes like shit,” is the drawl Wonhee charges you with. 

“When the hell did you get a degree in reviewing fine cuisine, miss?” You ask, rolling up your sleeves. She watches your hands intently, chewing on a tossed grape to her mouth. “Mind you, I didn’t say you can sit on the counter.” 

“You can’t put my seat at the front of the classroom and not expect me to be a nuisance.” Even with the shake of her head and the wiggle of her knee-high leggings, it negates the fact that she’s constantly giving you shit despite that pretty baby-face of hers, all pampered up in her neat little uniform; the goodest girl image everyone perceives her to be. 

“Well,” you’re saying as your middle finds solace between her legs, arms finding rest along your collarbones. And the skirt she’s got on couldn’t be any shorter. “I can’t trust you to be in the back since you’re falling asleep all the time-” 

“You’re falsely accusing me?” 

“-or that other time you were touching yourself while we were watching a movie on greek folklore,” you add. “Not to mention the fact that the color on Minju’s face either got red or drained instantly.” 

“Maybe she liked it too?” 

“Wonhee-”

“But who’s got the harder assignment?” Wonhee asks. “Me? With my shiannegans? Or you? Dealing with every bit of bullshit I throw at you.” 

“I could’ve thrown you on the bed the other night. Easily.” 

“And you should’ve.” Her head falls back, flutters her lashes. You do her the slightest diligence by leaning in and stop right where the air hits your nose. All the small teases and taunts - it’s how she’s managed to get your heart in the first place. “I wouldn’t have stopped you.” 

So, yeah. That deserves a kiss. 

She doesn’t do you enough justice when her legs pin you to the edge of the marble. 

“I had this idea,” she begins, and with a theory that comes out of her, it’s anything but good. 

You inhale. 

“This topic in class. Unit, I suppose.” Sounding it off all sing-song like and waving her head back and forth. Her wrists slack; they toy with the ends of hair on your neck. She blinks twice to give you the go-ahead - pick away at her buttons. The blazer goes first, and the rest will follow not long after. You toss that cutesie bowtie over the shoulder. She smirks, then continues: “Why is it that they don’t let us read all of the Iliad? I mean- what if we go on our own odyssey? You ever wonder where that’d take us?” 

“What would you propose?” 

“Somewhere new,” she begins. “Someplace where we can forget about our responsibilities. Where we can be isolated for eternity.” 

“You sound nothing close to Penolope and more of Calypso,” you breathe, fiddling at the seam of her leggings. The mere feel of her thighs already a marvel on its own, considering how soft and easy they can be riddled in hot pink- 

“Calypso is more of my style.” 

“So you did pay attention to my class earlier. Instead of having your head down as usual.” You pull closer by her ass cheeks. Squeeze as she opens up more of her dress shirt at the top. 

Her lip bite doesn’t faze you. “Only because you stole the vibrator from my desk.” 

“Ah ah-” you click, pinch her butt for assertion. “Confiscated.” She pouts and that doesn’t even make you sway. “There’s a difference. I think there’s other ways to be bored in the classroom without levying the risk of making your schoolmates uncomfortable.” 

“Calypso,” repeats Wonhee, murmuring it into your mouth. “Think about it.” Her hand drops to your belt and starts to unbuckle. You’ll allow it. “An escape with me-”

You help her out in undoing your trousers, quick to get rid of the skirt and discard it onto the floor. “Wonhee, easy.” 

“You’re easy with the other girls in the class,” she deducts. “But not me.” 

“I have my reasons,” you scoff as her palm brushes against your cock. “What do you think?” 

“What do they think?” 

Her shirt gets unbuttoned from the bottom, and the light pink panties is fucking you up. “I-” 

“I’ll tell you this,” and she’s trying to keep herself from being distracted, “You do too much. Cringey at times, maybe. Oh- and you’re possibly a womanizer.” Your length rubs her inner thigh - it might be too much. 

“The womanizer part was all you, by the way.” 

“Care to share with the class?” 

For one, you’ll do more than a simple show and tell: the sudden rip of her panties makes her yelp for a slight second while your cock gets freed from your boxers. Enough with the subtlety and to hell with the foreplay, inching your tip past her folds and feel that slick rush consume you with one swift clench. Her head falls back and you slot a hand behind to keep her from reeling - focus on me instead, baby, I’ve got you

She helps you on the assignment and scoots forward - just enough space where you’re able to move and she can just sit there and let you do most of the work. Not that you’re complaining; this is what she wanted. You can just tell from the half-drunk grin as the top of her shirt falls below the shoulder. “You naughty boy,” Wonhee exhales, a whimper she fails to uphold when you work the fine muscle in her with your cock. The girl has to keep her hips forward but not topple off the counter in the process. 

“Talk about a demonstration.” 

It’s a play-on for the action. All the while her thighs are playing on the action of keeping your hips at bay; make you earn to thrust deeper and deeper in a sufficient rhythm. Sure, you could’ve went with the slow-fucking route and tease her brains out but where’s the fun in that? The hitch in her breath when she feels your shaft rub against her walls makes her eyes foggy - lax, even. 

“If you were-” and the mid-stroke in her cunt sends shocks up her spine. “-surverying me for a peer review with the other instructors, you think those comments are up to par?” 

“Boring, and hot,” Wonhee gasps, jaw hanging low. 

“Not much of the boring,” you say, hands square to her hips, pressing on the crease. You drag out and she’s cooing. That addicting clench is something to die for. Her hand reaches for your arm, clutching. “Is that right? Miss Wonhee?” 

She blinks. Licks her lips. “You and that ego,” is all riddled out in a singular breath. “Sir. Sir-” 

“Luckily we’re not in the classroom.” Your thumbs caress her waist. “The other students wouldn’t like what they’re seeing. What would your friends think?” 

“Oh,” her mouth forms an ‘o’. “I’d be complaining.” 

“About?”

Wonhee’s throat bobs. “I prefer not to say.” 

“Watch yourself, sweetheart.” 

“People - like me - have made the impression,” you focus and let your lower half do the slow-grind, “That you have a really good grasp, about these things.” A grin peeks right at the corner of her mouth, switched to a lip bite immediately when you push all the way down to the base. She winces and bites down a really harsh “Fuck!” 

You’re palming her breast, made wide open from the shirt. “Grasp? Hm. I’d agree.” Some of her hairs form a curtain at her forehead, giving a desired roughed-up appearance she looks good in. 

“There you go again. Fuck- god, there.” Her ankles bracket behind you, compensating for more force you’re snapping inside. She’s letting you take the reins (with little-to-no guidance from her), dictating the rhythm. Slow, yes. But I know you’d take more. Wonhee’s already kneading your ego. A better return is to fuck her stupid and make her remember where she sits. 

“Go on, sweetie.” 

“You- and your voice- they said that it’d be really good, for an erotic audiobook.”