What’s Wrong With My Art Coach?

Min-a felt a chill run down his spine as he recalled eating a particular Mrs. Yuan's coochie because his older sister needed him to convince the old lady to invest in her last project. “What? That was a good one. You get to fuck Mrs. Yuan! Wasn’t it like a great time for you too?” Eun Hye frowned, appearing extremely confused. She thought he had enjoyed the arrangement since he loved abomination affairs. Min-a swallowed hard before walking away. His silence troubled his older sister. “Did she do anything else to you?” Eun Hye’s worried voice brought Min-a to his senses. He realized he was being too sensitive. “Nope, aside from biting my balls a bit too hard?” he wiggled his brows, winking at his older sister because he knew she would be disgusted, and hopefully, that would get her to leave him alone. But it didn’t work. “I didn’t need to know that. Look, it’s different this time. Kwan Seung-ho is like those ethical artists. He came from nothing and now is some top-rate

White and faded light blue were the only shades Min-a had made peace with, these two colors always looked fire on him. He looked at himself in the mirror, satisfied with his beach turquoise palm tree pattern shorts with a white background, and went through five outfits before settling for this. All had the same color gradients. He was certain he looked good. It was 6:45 pm on that same day, a few minutes later than the time Seung-ho had informed him to come for his first lesson. Who the hell begins lessons on the same day as they commenced it? Min-a tried not to think about how he was cornered by his father and his Noona into being a student of the man he barely knew. His lessons were mutually agreed to three times a week but trust he wouldn't be making efforts to attend all. “After tonight, he better not expect me to attend any evening cringe evening classes.” He spoke firmly in his mind. After he was done, Min-a went back to his shelf to apply perfume, a

Min-a lingered on the sidelines, exchanging pleasantries and snapping photos with familiar faces, but his attention kept gravitating back to his art coach. Seung-ho effortlessly navigated the flurry of lights and cameras, exuding a natural charisma that caught Min-a off guard. Perhaps he had underestimated him. Lost in his thoughts, Min-a didn't notice they had moved on to greet the next while he was discreetly observing Seung-ho. “You can’t seem to keep your eyes off me, Min-a.” Seung-ho murmured smoothly into Min-a's ear, his arm snaking around Min-a’s waist with a graceful smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, your cloth tag was stealing all the spotlight if you ask me..” Min-a mirrored his moves, subtly moving his hand under his blazer and gently pulling the tag off. As his hand connected with Seung-ho’s skin, he felt a sudden warmth, contrasting with the cool air around them. Min-a hesitated, allowing his hand to linger, feeling the tantalizing warmth of his skin

These words barely left Seo Min-a’s mouth when Kwan Seung-ho's lips came crashing into his. For the first few seconds, it was just them savoring the taste of each other's lips and nothing more. No lip movement, only a deep sensual hold between both lips. Slowly, Seung-ho started to move his lips, leading the kiss in the direction of hot pleasure. All his infatuation with the man in front of him tasted exactly like he thought he would. His vanilla scent sent him into a greater high than any alcohol would have given him. Min-a subtly propelled Seung-ho in the direction where the chairs weren’t present, only a wall-cladded art and wallpaper. He pushed against his muscled tattooed chest while nibbling on kissing his lips. His actions were contradictory. He wanted to step away from the sexually, fascinating man in front of him, but his body kept craving for more of him. In a swift movement, Seung-ho reversed their positions, pinning Min-a against the wall. Their bo

Seung-ho didn’t think dealing with Min-a would ever be this stressful. But alas, he was still thankful that he wasn't a total mute, that he actually had other sides to him, but this was beyond him. “33? That's definitely old.” Min-a chuckled, clasping his stomach due to the heavy laughter as he headed towards the sofa behind him. “It’s not.” Seung-ho refuted, following him. “You are 10-” Min-a counted on his finger before exclaiming, “I mean, 11 years older than me!” He exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at Seung-ho. “You could have been a father now if you had enough rizz.” He teased landing his butt on the gray sofa. “Careful, you could ruin my cushion..” Seung-ho stood beside the chair, staring down at his student, folding his hands on his chest. Min-a's head snapped in his direction, “are you calling me fat?” He frowned, staring into Seung-ho’s eyes directly. Usually, he would be nervous to look into Seung-ho’s mesmerizing blue eyes, but right now, he had this confi