While Jimin was politely swallowing his sharp retorts to his teacher's unwitting insensitivity, Jungkook was swallowing his own objections. As it happened, he was also swallowing the swollen head of the middling sized cock of a senior once he emerged victorious against his own gagging reflex. So, he didn't have much time to dwell on the systematic unfairness of the treatment of minorities in a notoriously xenophobic environment of an elite Australian boarding school. He was far too busy concentrating on not regurgitating his breakfast while he endured the vigorous face-fucking he was being subjected to.

Not that he was being forced, by any means. He just had to meet Yoongi at the dorm he shared with Perfect Prefect Jimin (the one and only way Jungkook ever addressed, or even thought, of the older boy) and he didn't have time for Jacob's horny bullshit. For someone who's one defining character trait was bone deep laziness, Yoongi was surprisingly intolerant of tardiness.

With an expression that would have been bored if his current predicament wasn't so physically taxing, Jungkook brought the hand that had previously rested on the older boy's thigh and pressed his index and middle finger firmly against Jacob's taint. Given time, he might have run those fingers through the undignified trail of drool that ran down his chin and slipped them into the other boy's ass, giving him a proper prostrate massage. But Jacob had to be gently coaxed into such things. His fragile ego needing to be thoroughly overwhelmed with pleasure before he allowed 'that gay shit'.

Jungkook enjoyed the irony of that almost as much as he enjoyed the 'gay shit'. At least, when he wasn't running short on time. He pressed his fingers harder, massaging small circles until Jacob's hips were jerking. The hand cradling the back of his neck almost affectionately clenched in his hair to hold him in place while the cock in his throat twitched and pulsed, spurts of cum trickling down his oesophagus.

He did choke then, sputtering breathlessly as he jerked back, slamming his head against the wall. He pushed Jacob from him as he bent double, coughing violently as spit and cum sprayed from his mouth onto the senior's once pristine grey trousers.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Kook!" The older boy exclaimed in disgust.

Jungkook rolled his eyes even as his chest heaved in the aftermath of his choking fit. He didn't know what Jacob was so upset about. He wasn't the one who'd just had a string of cum dribble out of his nose. With a kind of malicious pleasure, he brought the hand that he'd just used to wipe his wet face and wiped it on the thigh of Jacob's pants.

"You're fucking disgusting." The older boy growled; his hands balled at his sides aggressively as he towered over him.

Jungkook spat Jacob's leavings onto the tiled floor in response, narrowly missing his shoe. Damned if he was swallowing for that fucker. "Eat a dick." His voice emerged soft and hoarse from his abused throat.

"That's your job."

Jungkook chuckled at the surprisingly witty quip. "Touché."

Jacob left while he was still on his knees, as so many of his suitors were wont to do.

"Aw, don't be mad, baby. We're still on for Tuesday, right?" He called after the retreating back. The effort tore at his throat, but he was incapable of leaving well enough alone.

"Fuck you, Jeon." Jungkook noted the mispronunciation of his last name with a twitch of irritation. Didn't matter how many times he told these knuckle-dragging fuckwads it wasn't Jee-on, they still couldn't get it right.

"So that's a yes?" He pressed. He saw the shoulder tense before the older boy paused at the door that led to the small, unoccupied student lounge. His laughter was soft and mocking as Jacob disappeared out the door. "That's a yes." He murmured to himself, a knowing smirk twisting his lips.

Dragging himself to his feet, Jungkook grabbed his bag and hauled it onto his shoulder. He checked his phone, noting the time.

"Ah, fuck! Yoongi's gonna kick my ass." He complained, his walk quickening into a half-jog.

--

"You're late, Jeon." Yoongi's husky voice was pissy as he held open the door.

"Yeah, sorry, got waylaid." Jungkook shrugged, ducking under the elder's arm to enter the small room that was a mirror image of his own dorm.

"Your breath smells like cum. Have a mint or something before you show up at my door, Jesus!"

Jungkook shrugged again, slinging his bag roughly onto the bed he knew was Jimin's. He sank down next to it, leaning back on the headboard, shoes deliberately resting on the immaculate quilt. "Then I would have been later."

He did, however, grab a pack of gum from the front pocket of his backpack and lay it on his waiting tongue almost delicately. He gave Yoongi a wide grin, noting the way the pale boy's tired eyes followed the gesture with interest. Not that either of them would act on the low thrum of attraction between them. Yoongi made it a point not to mix business with pleasure and frankly Jungkook didn't view him as a large enough conquest to bother challenging the status quo.

Like some B-grade prison movie, Yoongi ran a contraband store on campus. And Jungkook was something of a silent partner.

You see, Jungkook's parents were what was referred to as skilled immigrants. They'd come to Australia with nothing but the shirts on their backs, their dreams and a diploma each. Two decades of hard work later and they were 'comfortable', which was upper middle class for 'loaded'. His mother owned and ran a small string of nail boutiques. Very few people suspected the cliché Korean nail technician who outfitted them with a stylish set of claws for a reasonable price was actually a savvy businesswoman with a dual degree in IT and business.

But it was his father which made his joint enterprise with Yoongi possible. He was a GP working at his local practice. All it had taken was some ingenuity, selective thievery and an understanding of the system and how to wrought it and Jungkook was the proud purveyor of prescription party favours. Ritalin, dex, endone, valium, tryptophan, prozac, lexapro, codeine, stillnox, everyone's favourite flavours. Everything you needed to get you up, get you down, get you through.

Yoongi handled the procurement of everything else, booze, smokes, drugs. Being eighteen made most of that easy to come by. Being well connected through an older, unsavoury brother got him the rest. And the room he shared with Jimin was the perfect cover. No one was going to do a surprise inspection on the kid who wouldn't so much as start to cross the road while the red man was flashing. Not that he was stupid enough to deal straight out of his room. You didn't shit in your own backyard. Yoongi knew that.

"I was going into town today. You got the scripts?" His companion was all business.

"Of course, have I ever let you down?" Jungkook drawled, handing over a sheaf of print outs on specialised green paper.

"Repeatedly." Yoongi deadpanned, double checking Jungkook's work.

Jungkook didn't take offense. Their relationship was uneasy at the best of times. Yoongi was doing this because he needed the money. He had aspirations. Jungkook was doing it for the thrill and Yoongi knew it. It made him erratic at times.

With a satisfied nod, Yoongi shoved the prescriptions into a large pencil case, taking care not to crumple them too much. Then he handed Jungkook a wad of bills folded in half and held with what looked to be a hair tie. Jungkook didn't bother to count it. Yoongi wouldn't rip him off. Not because the older boy had any real morality but because he wanted to keep their very profitable arrangement.

Without another word, his associate shuffled to the door and held it open expectantly. Jungkook made a point of bouncing once on Jimin's bed, taking perverse pleasure in creating a little chaos in Jimin's compulsively ordered life. Yoongi shook his head slightly in exasperation.

"A pleasure as always, Yoongs." Jungkook patted his rear as he sauntered past. Yoongi grunted but didn't say anything as he closed the door in Jungkook's smirking face.

A huff of amusement escaped him and he nodded to himself, shouldering his bag once more and meandering to class.

When he walked into the classroom not five minutes later, he kept his head down, shaggy hair hiding his cynical gaze. He mumbled an apology to the teacher, although he had made it before the second bell and headed toward his seat. A foot thrust into his path and he stumbled, catching himself on the desk behind the perpetrator. He threw a glance over his shoulder to see who was responsible. 

Ah, Daniel Sawyer, resident douche nozzle. "Watch it, Jee-on." 

Jungkook sighed, and continued to his seat, but not before murmuring loud enough for the two bit bully wannabe to hear. "As I recall, you were the one who liked to watch, Danny boy." His lips quirked sardonically at the flush that crept up the boy's face.