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Porsche notices a change within Kinn in the days following the shootout. In the immediate hours after, Kinn is merely overcome with relief and the surge of adrenaline from a near-death experience for the both of them. They tend to their wounds and check on Chay and then fall into bed in a tangle of exhausted limbs, sleeping like the dead until the next morning.
It’s then when Kinn’s demeanour changes. When Porsche blinks into the faint morning light, Kinn is gazing down at him with an unreadable expression; a shadow clouding his face that he wipes away as soon as he registers that Porsche is awake. It’s gone so quickly that Porsche wonders if he merely imagined it.
“Good morning,” Porsche says, voice raspy from sleep.
“Morning.” Kinn reaches out, delicately tracing the angle of Porsche’s cheekbone with his thumb. Porsche nuzzles into it as he raises his arms over his head, stretching his body out like a cat. “Did you sleep well?”
Porsche hums his confirmation. It’s strange to think that they were surrounded by such death and destruction yesterday, yet today he’s waking up safely with Kinn by his side. His entire body aches, the gash on his arm throbs beneath the bandage, but he’s alive. The reminder of everything they’ve lost twinges in his chest even as he’s thankful for everything they still get to keep. Kinn’s eyes, gazing down at him, for one.
“The clean up operation has already started,” Kinn says. He places a short kiss to Porsche’s lips, drawing back before Porsche can deepen it. Porsche frowns as Kinn slips out of bed, the hand reaching for Kinn’s nape falling limply to the bed as he moves away. “I have to go down and help coordinate. It’s going to be tough, with Arm as the new head of security after Chan—” he cuts off.
Porsche watches the grief swim across Kinn’s face. Though Kinn sometimes pretends otherwise, the bodyguards that work for him are his family regardless of blood. Especially someone like Chan, who has worked for the family since Kinn can remember, a loyal and steadfast companion since Kinn was a teenager.
Kinn shakes his head and the grief clears like mist dissolving in the light of dawn, but the weight of his loss still sits heavy on his shoulders. He doesn’t continue his earlier sentence, instead moving to their closet and beginning to rummage through for a change of clothes.
Porsche sits up, watching him carefully. “Kinn, it’s okay to take a break.” When he gets no response, he adds, “It’s okay to take a moment to grieve.”
“I have to go and help Arm,” Kinn deflects. “The main family is my responsibility and I should be there to oversee things.”
Porsche looks at him sadly, recognising the barrier that Kinn is building between himself and all he’s lost. Protecting himself from feeling anymore pain. At this moment in time, Porsche is unwilling to press to see if he can find a weak spot in his armour. Kinn should be allowed to distract himself with work if that’s what he needs to cope with all of this.
Instead of arguing, Porsche climbs out of bed. “Okay. I’m sure I can be of some help, too.”
A small tendril of tension bleeds out of Kinn’s shoulders, like he’s thankful Porsche hasn’t pushed him on the matter. They pick out their clothes for the day side-by-side. It feels strange to bypass the bodyguard uniform in favour of his regular clothes. Tomorrow, Porsche will go shopping for some suits if he’s to look the part of the leader of the minor family.
Rubbing the remaining sleep out of his eye, a flash of gold in his periphery draws his attention. He glances down at the minor family ring. The sight of it makes him reconsider how he can be of most help. “I think I should go to the minor family homebase.”
A hand shoots out and catches his arm. Kinn’s grip is tight, narrowly avoiding the bandaged wound. When Porsche turns to him in question, there’s a wild look in Kinn’s eyes that takes him aback. “You’re leaving?”
“Only to do some recon,” Porsche replies, slightly confused at the intensity of Kinn’s reaction. “Most of the men loyal to Gun are dead or will have gone into hiding. I need to check what remains at the base and salvage what I can before there’s nothing left. It’s going to be mine eventually anyway, right?”
Kinn’s mouth twists, wanting to argue but knowing it makes sense. “I’ll come with you.”
“You just said you need to remain here as the head of the major family.”
“Fine,” Kinn says tightly. “Take Arm with you.”
Porsche slides his hand over Kinn’s grip on his arm and squeezes gently. “Arm is your head of security. He’s needed here, not with me.”
“Pol, then. And two others, anyone who isn’t—” Kinn swallows, that same grief from earlier threatening to drag him under. He clears his throat. “Anybody uninjured and willing to go. Call and check in with me.”
Porsche nods. “I will.” He’s not about to accuse Kinn of being paranoid about his safety. Not after yesterday.
“Come back as soon as you can.” Reluctantly, Kinn releases Porsche’s arm. He takes a stiff step backward, hand curling into a fist like he’s trying to resist the urge to reach out again. “Come back to—” he presses his lips together, eyes darting away. “Just—don’t be too long.”
Kinn waits until Porsche nods again before he turns away to head into the bathroom to shower. Porsche watches the door shut in silence. There’s something niggling at his chest, some kind of uneasy feeling like an itch that he can’t scratch, or a puzzle he can’t solve. Something is wrong with Kinn, but with the adrenaline of the last few days only just fading, there’s a lot of things it could be.
In the end, despite Porsche’s best efforts, he’s only able to take Pol with him. Most of the surviving bodyguards were given orders from the medic to rest their injuries—there aren't enough of them around to spare two extra men just to escort Porsche to a mostly-empty location. Kinn looks unhappy about it, projecting an aura of worry and discontentment across the room. Arm stands beside him, holding a tablet and trying to brief him. Kinn doesn’t appear to be paying any attention.
Earlier, when Porsche was busy being equipped with a small handgun, Kinn had pulled Pol aside and out of the range of Porsche’s hearing. They’d spoken in low voices; Kinn tense and commanding, with Pol nodding in grave understanding before rolling his shoulders back to full height, like all the bodyguards do when given a task. Always determined to obey their leader.
“Everything okay?” Porsche had asked when Pol returned to his side.
Pol had smiled politely, taking his standard-issue gun. “Everything is fine, Khun Porsche.”
The formality made him uncomfortable. “Just Porsche is fine, Pol. We’re still friends even with this ring on my finger.”
“Of course.” Pol hadn’t relaxed an inch.
Now, as Porsche and Pol head outside to the waiting car, Kinn stares at Porsche’s retreating form with a raw expression that makes Porsche’s stomach twist in concern, even as the door closes behind them and he disappears from sight.
What they find at the complex is almost surprising in that it doesn’t look any different at all. Except for the absence of Gun’s bodyguards, the whole place is the same as it was when Porsche last visited.
Without Gun or any of the bodyguards for direction, the domestic staff that remained behind have continued on as normal; there’s the smell of cooked food wafting in from the kitchens, the sight of washed sheets hanging out to dry.
When Porsche steps out into the main courtyard, men and women alike pause in their tasks to turn and look at him, wary and frightened. The last time he was here he was the head bodyguard to Kinn, who the minor family tried to kill only yesterday. For all they know, Porsche is here to wipe them all out and start afresh.
“Gun is dead,” Porsche informs them. A ripple of surprise goes through the staff, though none of them look particularly upset at the news. It appears their loyalty is to the home, not to Gun, which Porsche is counting on. “Vegas is missing. I have been assigned by Khun Korn as the new head of the minor family.”
The staff glance at his ring then around at each other. Porsche can see a little girl out of the corner of his eye, half hidden by her mother, who appears to be a maid.
“Anybody who no longer wishes to work here is free to leave now,” Porsche announces. “For anybody who wishes to remain, you will receive lifetime employment and my protection in exchange for your loyalty.”
There are a few hushed whispers, a couple of expressions of relief, though nobody responds to him directly. These people aren’t professional mafia personnel trained to fight and punish and kill. It’s clear that all of them have families, children to feed, with no reason to jeopardise that out of any respect for Gun.
“You’re Khun Kinn’s partner.”
Porsche looks towards the source of the voice as an older woman with hair shot through with silver steps forward. She appears to be the head of the entire staff, judging from the way the entire courtyard watches with baited breath as she approaches Porsche. He senses Pol shift his hand over his holster. Without taking his eyes off the woman, Porsche holds a hand out to stop him drawing.
“I am,” Porsche confirms.
“My name is Noi.” Noi gazes at him assessingly. Her face is slightly lined with age, but her eyes are sharp and knowing. “I’ve worked here since before you were born. There has never been a time that the major and minor families worked together harmoniously.”
Porsche smiles at her, as open and earnest as he can make it. He lifts his hands in a semblance of a shrug. “There’s a first time for everything?”
Surprisingly, that makes Noi laugh in genuine amusement, which dissolves some of the tension in the air. “You’re young,” she says, mouth curled up in a smile, “but you’re honest. In response to your offer, we wish to remain here within the minor family household.”
“All of you?”
Noi glances behind her then back to Porsche. “Yes. I speak for all of us.”
“As long as you’re sure.” Porsche pointedly scans the faces of the staff. “I will not treat traitors with any kindness.”
“Nor will I,” Noi responds.
Porsche smiles at that. He sends her a polite, thankful wai and receives one in return. After Noi has moved away to reassure her staff, Porsche gestures for Pol to follow him inside.
“When we get back, I’ll ask Arm to run background checks on the staff as a precaution. We should also keep an eye out for any of Gun’s men. The few who survived have probably fled, but we should search the complex anyway.” Porsche pauses at the bottom of the main stairs. “I’ll cover upstairs, you keep looking down here. Call me if you find anything.”
Pol grabs his sleeve before he can move. “I have to stay with you at all times.”
“We can cover more ground if we split up.”
Pol shifts uneasily. “I can’t do that.” He looks vaguely constipated, like he does when he’s hiding something. He’s never been a particularly good actor.
Porsche stares at him, mind working. “Let me guess. Kinn’s orders.”
Pol nods, relieved he didn’t technically betray Kinn’s trust. Porsche sighs inwardly. He can’t blame Kinn for being overprotective, but they’ve established now that all the remaining staff here aren’t threats. Even a rogue, injured minor family bodyguard wouldn’t pose a threat for either of them.
“There’s no danger here, Pol. You can let me out of your sight for half an hour.”
“Porsche,” Pol pleads, “that’s exactly what I can’t do. Khun Kinn—”
“Hold on,” Porsche cuts in, “Kinn specifically told you to not let me out of your sight?”
Pol’s mouth clacks shut. The ensuing silence is answer enough for Porsche. He looks like he’s about to give himself a hernia, so Porsche takes pity on him. There’s no use involving Pol in something that is clearly between him and Kinn.
“It’s okay, Pol.” He begins to lead Pol down the hallway instead, resolving himself to a longer search. “We can go together.”
After they’re satisfied with the sweep, Porsche calls to check in just as Kinn asked, confirming that the complex is safe and that the staff have switched loyalties. But then Kinn keeps calling, checking that he’s still at the complex, confirming when he’s planning to be back. He even calls Pol a few times, who tries to move out of earshot of Porsche when he answers, which feels secretive and wrong.
It leaves Porsche wondering what he’s missing.
It only gets worse from there. In the daytime, Kinn rearranges his schedule so that he can accompany Porsche almost everywhere, even if both heads of the families aren’t required. For anything he can’t rearrange, he sends Pol and at least one other bodyguard with him.
They have sex just as much as they used to, except now Kinn fucks him like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. He fucks Porsche like he’s going to disappear; screwing him into the mattress for so long and so deep that Porsche comes helplessly, completely untouched, in overwhelming pulses that feel like they burn him up from the inside out. Porsche can barely walk afterward, too tired to do anything but allow Kinn to wipe down his skin and cradle him close until he falls into an exhausted sleep.
Kinn never falls asleep first anymore. He wakes if Porsche so much as changes position. Any peace that Kinn previously found in Porsche’s arms has faded, leaving behind only the sharp edge of panic and paranoia, pressing in around him like spikes.
Every night he jerks awake from a nightmare, hands already searching for Porsche before his eyes are fully open, making a small, relieved sound when he makes contact with Porsche’s skin.
“We’re safe,” Porsche soothes, carding a hand through Kinn’s hair. Kinn grabs him by the wrist and desperately clutches it to his own chest, as if convincing himself that he’s real. Porsche can feel his heart pounding beneath his palm. “Nobody is going to hurt us. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
It takes a while for Kinn to stop shaking. His eyes, once so open when they looked at Porsche, are guarded in shadow. “That isn’t what I’m worried about,” he says, so quietly that it’s almost lost to the darkness.
Seeing Kinn like this is causing Porsche a sort of discomfort—a pulling, constricting feeling in his chest. Porsche can’t discern what exactly it is, but he’s felt it a few times before: when he found the picture of Kinn and Tawan hidden in Kinn’s bedroom, when Kinn pulled away from their kiss at the waterfall, when Kinn stood in front of him by that ravine and told him to leave.
It feels like his chest is being squeezed, like it’s hard to breathe. As if something is about to go wrong but he can’t quite put his finger on it. It feels inevitable; in a terrible, haunting way.
“What is it you’re worried about?”
Kinn is silent for a few moments. Porsche holds his breath, hoping he doesn’t look as scared as he feels. In the end, Kinn averts his eyes.
“A lot of things,” he says vaguely. “Go back to sleep, Porsche.”
Porsche doesn’t have the heart to ask him for the truth. He closes his eyes, but sleep doesn’t come again for a long time.
Porsche manages to tolerate only a few more days of being followed everywhere by a bodyguard. It’s not always Pol, they have a few others in rotation that Porsche is less familiar with, but their presence is still a nuisance.
He drops off Porchay at school on the mornings that his schedule allows it. When they get to the gates, it doesn’t take more than a glance at Porchay’s grimace to realise that everybody around them is giving them a wide berth, watching them warily. When Porsche looks in the direction of the stares, he realises that his bodyguard of the day—Bank, who is unbearably stern and professional—has one hand resting on his gun holster.
“Hia, people are going to start thinking I’m part of the mafia,” Porschay mumbles, ears gone pink in embarrassed frustration.
“Sorry, Chay.” Porsche shoots an annoyed look at Bank. “Stand down. They’re just high school kids.”
Bank doesn’t respond, but he does take his hand off his gun. Porsche reasons it’s better than nothing.
The bodyguards even follow him around the main family compound—his own home. At one point Bank tries to follow him into the bathroom, after which Porsche draws the line, deftly slips away from beneath Bank’s sight, then goes to find Kinn.
He finds him in the gym overseeing the induction of the new bodyguards gathered in the training area. Porsche gives them a precursory once-over; among the sea of faces, those who stand out are a man with an eyebrow piercing, another with a neck tattoo, and an athletically-built woman who towers above them all.
Porsche walks over as they begin to run basic drills. Arms crossed, Kinn stands in front of them, assessing their forms. When Porsche reaches his side, he watches Kinn glance briefly behind Porsche, visibly register the absence of a bodyguard, then school his features into something neutral, turning his attention back to the trainees.
“I don’t need an escort every time I leave the building.”
A muscle in Kinn’s jaw flexes. “You’re the head of the minor family. You’re in danger every time you walk out that door.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Porsche reasons, watching the man with the pierced eyebrow effortlessly throw a weighted ball across the room. “I know being in the position I’m in makes me a target. I’ll take guards whenever I’m on official business, just not for personal trips. The biggest threat to us was Gun and he’s been neutralised.”
There’s a heavy silence for a few moments, broken only by the sounds of laboured breathing from in front of them. Porsche glances sideways. Kinn’s expression is one of calm lethality—the kind Porsche has only seen moments before Kinn puts a bullet in someone’s skull.
“Vegas,” Kinn says.
Porsche feels his world dip into ice water. “What?”
“Vegas is still a threat.” His voice is low and dangerous. “Vegas tried to take you away from me and almost succeeded. I have no idea where he is, or what happened to him, but I know he’s out there somewhere.”
Blood rushes through Porsche’s ears. He remembers the phone call he received a few days ago; Pete’s exhausted voice, the unmistakable beep of a heart monitor in the background, overlaid by the typical sounds of a hospital. He remembers allowing Macau back into the complex to gather some of his and Vegas’ belongings, under Noi’s watchful eye, as per Pete’s request.
Kinn finally looks at him. Porsche feels rooted in place, like a butterfly pinned to a specimen dish by its wings.
“Porsche,” he says, “do you know where Vegas is?”
Time seems to slow. He thinks about Pete’s desperate tone, the pain in his voice, how he’d said he knows Vegas doesn’t deserve it but begged Porsche for his help anyway, relying on whatever bonds of friendship they managed to scrape together.
Mostly, he thinks about how Kinn will react if he learns where Vegas is, how the grief and anger he’s been carrying for days may cause him to act without thinking, targeting him in a public place where anybody could witness it. There’s a chance Kinn could get caught, shattering the tentative life they’re building before it even begins. There are only so many things the organisation can protect him from. Porsche isn’t sure this would be one of them.
“No,” Porsche answers, voice wavering only slightly.
Kinn’s eyes flash with something—disappointment, maybe. Porsche isn’t sure if it’s the answer he was expecting. Kinn turns away, back to the potential bodyguards in front of him, face transformed into a blank canvas once more.
“I’m busy. Did you need something?”
Porsche’s eyes trace Kinn’s side profile. The elegant angle of his cheekbone, the slope of his nose, the stern set to his mouth that Porsche longs to see smile again. He recalls the carefree smile Kinn had shown him in the forest, where they’d spoken of freedom and dreams and the hope for the future. Back then, their wrists had been cuffed together, but they had never felt so free. Right now, nothing binds them together, but the shackles of their responsibilities weigh them down nonetheless.
Quietly, he says, “I want to take my brother to school without everybody staring at the guard with a gun.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Retract whatever order you gave them to keep me in their sight at all times. They won’t stop unless they hear it from you.”
Porsche may be a leader himself, but he’s not their leader. They will follow his commands only if they do not interfere directly with Kinn’s.
“Fine.”
Kinn doesn’t look back when he walks away.
A few days after his conversation with Kinn, while dropping Porchay off at school, Porsche notices he’s being tailed. The sense that he’s being watched is a prickle at the edge of his awareness, something instinctual ingrained in him since he first became an underground boxer. Occasionally, rival managers would hire people to jump him before a match, intending to injure him to give their fighters a better chance.
This doesn’t feel like one of those times. Standing at the entrance to the school, Porsche casts a quick glance in the direction of the inconspicuous car parked a little further down the road. The man in the driver’s seat is wearing regular clothing, no earpiece, nothing that visibly jumps out to Porsche as a threat. He has his head propped up on one fist, the other scrolling on his phone, perfectly casual.
The man is professional but not sinister in nature. He isn’t here to harm him, he’s simply been sent to watch.
After Porchay disappears into the building, Porsche purposefully walks down the sidewalk in the direction of the car. As he passes by, he sees a flash of something metallic in his periphery. Porsche immediately recognises the barbel of the eyebrow piercing belonging to one of the new bodyguards on Kinn’s roster.
Kinn is keeping tabs on him. His initial reaction to that is annoyance, though Kinn’s quietly-distressed behaviour since the shootout makes him pause. This level of surveillance goes deeper than simply wanting Porsche to be safe. It’s like Kinn is waiting for something to happen.
Porsche continues down the road to the place he parked his bike. His second destination of the day is Hum Bar in order to visit Yok. He still needs to apologise for the state Kim left the bar in—corpses littering the place are hardly good for business—and deliver a cheque for the damages.
Kinn’s bodyguard has no idea that Porsche has clocked him. That’s the only reason he brazenly follows Porsche into the club and settles at a table closest to the door, maintaining a casual distance. Porsche barely spares him a glance before approaching the bar. Even so, Yok notices something is off.
“A friend of yours?” Yok murmurs, nervous but doing an impressive job of hiding it.
Porsche shakes his head, easing onto a stool in front of her. Yok relaxes at his lack of reaction, his body language indicating the man isn’t a threat.
“Ah,” she says knowingly, “Khun Kinn’s friend.”
“Something like that,” he replies.
Porsche is scheduled to be in a meeting at the minor family complex by now. He was halfway there when he realised that he forgot his phone. Normally he’d be fine to go without it, but he knows Kinn will freak out if he can’t contact him for any reason, even with the bodyguard that’s been tailing him for the last two days.
That’s the only reason Porsche barges back into their bedroom in such a hurry. There’s a sudden clatter and a bang as Kinn slams the drawer of his bedside table shut. He whirls around to face Porsche, trying to appear calm, though no amount of mafia training can smother the expression on a person’s face when they’ve been caught unaware.
Porsche carefully searches his face. “Is everything okay?”
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Kinn responds. There’s an awkward beat of silence. “You’re supposed to be in a meeting.”
“I forgot my phone. You know my schedule off by heart?” Kinn doesn’t answer that. “Right.” Porsche smiles helplessly. “Of course you do.”
Kinn rounds the bed, picking up Porsche’s phone off the other bedside table, walking over to slip it into his hand. He avoids meeting Porsche’s eyes. Porsche opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Communication has never been their strongest point. He wants to grab Kinn and shake him until the reason for this uncomfortable atmosphere between them falls out.
They’re saved from the strange, loaded silence by a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Kinn calls.
“Khun Kinn.” Arm looks apologetic, doubly so once he spots Porsche. “Sorry for disturbing you. Khun Korn wishes to speak to you before the meeting with the investors this morning.”
Kinn checks his watch, expression souring. “What my father means is that he wants to see me immediately.”
Arm nods, backing out into the hallway once more. Porsche turns back to Kinn and is surprised when Kinn is suddenly in his space, guiding him into his arms and kissing him deeply. Porsche is dazed when Kinn eventually pulls back only to press his nose into Porsche’s hair, breathing in the scent of him. “I’ll see you later,” he murmurs, then he’s gone.
Porsche watches the door close behind him, listening to the sound of fading footsteps. He barely waits ten seconds before hurrying over to Kinn’s bedside table. Tugging open the drawer, he sends Kinn a mental apology for invading his privacy, though given that this may provide a clue as to what’s bothering him, he can’t bring himself to feel too guilty about it.
It takes less than a minute of searching for Porsche to find the note. It’s the one he wrote for Kinn the same night he left to meet Vegas.
The small scrap of paper is tucked safely inside the second drawer of Kinn’s bedside table, hidden behind a notebook and Kinn’s spare phone charger. The note is wrinkled but folded up neatly, like Kinn has spent many moments crumpling it up only to smooth it back out again, its surface softened by continuous use.
Dread sinks like a stone into Porsche’s stomach as Kinn’s recent behaviour drops into startling clarity. How many times has Kinn sat and stared down at what could have been the last words Porsche ever gave to him? How many nights has he lain awake with Porsche asleep next to him, wondering if he’ll still be there when he wakes up?
Kinn isn’t having him followed out of concern for his safety — he’s scared that Porsche will walk out of the compound and never return. Terrified that the person he opened his heart to will make the decision to leave again.
Porsche swallows around the knot of guilt clogging his throat. He traces the lines of ink with his thumb, wondering how he could have broken Kinn’s trust the way he did. It will take something significant in order to assemble those pieces back together. He carefully tucks the note into his pocket. It feels as heavy as lead, weighted down by the burden of his mistake.
Later that day, as Porsche makes his way to an external meeting with one of the partners of the minor family, he senses the presence of Kinn’s bodyguard tailing him again. Knowing what Porsche does now, it makes something inside his chest twinge; the revelation that Kinn is scared Porsche is going to leave him, and doing anything in his power to prevent it.
Porsche can’t just ignore it and hope Kinn’s fear of abandonment goes away on its own, but it’s difficult to decide where to go from here. Whenever he and Kinn are alone, any words die in his throat before he can get them out. He doesn’t know how to begin to fix it. It doesn’t feel like there are any words in any language that could demonstrate how sorry he is.
As Porsche continues to wrestle with the issue, Time and Tay turn up to take them out for drinks. Porsche leaves Kinn to finish his conversation with Arm and heads downstairs to the lobby area where their friends are waiting.
“Porsche,” Tay greets casually, “it’s nice to see you’re still here.”
Porsche’s brain reels at the implication, the note burning a hole in his pocket. “Where else would I be?
“I’m just glad all the fighting didn’t scare you off,” Tay clarifies. Despite the smooth tone, there’s a sharp edge to his smile that digs into Porsche’s conscience. Tay is gazing at him like he’s acutely aware of his inner turmoil.
Porsche doesn’t have time to question him further before Kinn arrives and the moment breaks. Tay happily links Porsche’s arm and walks him to the waiting car, with Time and Kinn following after. The car ride is uneventful with the exception of Tay catching his eye several times in the rearview mirror. Porsche looks away each time, feeling guilty for something he hasn’t even confessed to.
The cocktail bar is one they often frequent. It’s classy without being too pretentious, in Tay’s own words. Once they’re settled in a booth, Porsche stands up.
Kinn immediately grabs his sleeve. “Where are you going?”
The thinly-veiled panic in his voice makes Porsche’s heart hurt. “Only to the bar.”
“I’ll go with him.” Tay stands, quirking a smile in Kinn’s direction. “I promise Porsche will be safe with me.” He says it in such a casual manner that it could be dismissed as a joke, if not for the way it makes Kinn relax. Porsche is grateful for it when Kinn releases his shirt to allow him to follow Tay to the bar.
Tay leans over the bar and orders smoothly for all four of them. As the bartender moves away to prepare their drinks, Porsche slides onto the stool beside Tay, allowing Porsche to observe him for a quiet moment. Tay is Kinn’s best friend; somebody with unwavering loyalty to him, who has known him since they were young. If anybody would have sound advice about this, it’s him.
Tay turns his head to gaze at him expectantly, like he already knows what Porsche is planning to say.
“I left him.”
Tay doesn’t even blink. “I know.”
Porsche exhales unsteadily. The complete lack of surprise confirms that Kinn was hurting enough to confide in his best friend. Kinn probably sought Tay out for a kind ear willing to listen because he can’t bear to voice his pain to Porsche. Everything about it makes Porsche ache: that he broke Kinn’s trust, that Kinn is unable or unwilling to speak about it, that he may have single-handedly ruined their chance for a happy epilogue.
“I don’t know how to fix it,” Porsche admits.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Kinn. You have to talk to each other. Otherwise, there’s no way forward.”
Porsche fiddles with the ring on his finger, the feeling of it still foreign days after Kinn slid it there. The lack of a conversation so far indicates Kinn was unwilling to heed Tay’s advice and bring it up with Porsche. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me about it? What if he doesn’t listen?”
Tay smiles at him, soft and a little bit sad. “He always listens to you, Porsche. Sometimes I think that you’re the only sound he hears.”
Porsche feels scraped out. To have someone like Kinn, whose loyalty is not easily earned, so trusting that he can sleep peacefully by Porsche’s side, only to betray that trust with such little care. He can’t resist peering over his own shoulder in Kinn’s direction. Kinn averts his eyes a beat too late, unable to pretend he was doing anything but watching Porsche.
“There’s still time to fix it,” Tay says kindly, drawing Porsche’s attention back. “Kinn was raised to never show weakness and you’re his biggest weakness of all. He’s never going to bring it up first. You have to show you’re willing to prove your loyalty to him.”
“I am,” Porsche gets out, reeling from the reminder that he’s Kinn’s greatest vulnerability. “I’m willing. I’ll do anything.”
Tay squeezes his arm. “Tell him that.”
Their bedroom is quiet when they get back. The city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows acts as a neon backdrop for Kinn, who makes a beeline for the whiskey decanter as soon as he’s stripped off his blazer. Porsche thinks about Tay’s words, about losing their happiness to fear if he doesn’t broach the subject.
“How long will they be around?” Porsche asks.
Kinn frowns down at the glass as he pours. “Who?”
“The men you have tailing me.”
To anybody else, it appears as if Kinn doesn’t react. Porsche sees differently, knows his tells—an infinitesimal pause before Kinn picks up the glass and moves over to stare out of the window. He lifts the drink to his mouth and takes a careful sip. “They’re assigned to keep you safe.”
In the gentlest voice he can, Porsche says, “We both know that’s not true.”
When Kinn’s gaze cuts to him, Porsche is holding out the note. Even from across the room, Kinn easily recognises it; his frame goes rigid, hand tightening so hard on the glass that his knuckles bleach white. He looks away, down at the ground, like just the reminder of it is agonising.
“You assigned them so you could be informed if I leave again.”
Kinn doesn’t reply. The hand gripping the glass is faintly trembling.
“Why did you keep it?”
“A memento.”
“For what?”
“To remember you.” Kinn lifts his head. The sorrow in his dark eyes almost brings Porsche to his knees. “You took everything else with you.”
Porsche feels like he’s been punched in the chest. He remembers the way he’d gathered his belongings from Kinn’s room, how he’d bundled Porchay and his bags into a taxi and left without a trace. He’d left nothing behind, purposefully so, just in case things ended badly. In case they needed to run.
He didn’t realise what it would look like. To Kinn it would have been like Porsche was never even there, existing only in his memory. A ghost that haunts Kinn even now.
“I came back.” Porsche’s voice shakes. He doesn’t know what else to say, not with Kinn looking so broken across the room. All he wants is to reach out and gently put him back together. “I came back to you.”
Kinn’s mouth stretches in a close-lipped mockery of a smile. “Not before you went to Vegas. Not before you trusted him over me.”
Porsche bites down on any explanation. He went to Vegas because he was manipulated to believe Vegas offered a more neutral viewpoint, somebody with no desire to please Korn. He thought there was a small chance that Kinn was following his father’s orders.
Porsche should have known that Kinn was just as in the dark as the rest of them. The elders of the Theerapanyakun family have a habit of keeping secrets, even though it’s their children who end up suffering because of it.
Porsche takes two careful steps closer. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.” The both of them have always communicated better through actions rather than words.
Kinn eyes slant up towards him, resignation in his expression. “I think you’ve done enough,” he says. Softer than a feather, but to Porsche it may as well have been a knife. It pierces through the space between his ribs, an acute pain that takes his breath away. The hurt in Kinn’s voice is unmistakable.
“I’m sorry, Kinn.”
“For what, Porsche?” Kinn huffs a quiet, humourless laugh that twists the blade. “For leaving? Or for lying to me?”
Porsche makes a desperate noise. He wonders if it would help to kneel, or to beg, or to simply give Kinn time. He wonders if this is what their relationship will be reduced to: living alongside each other, but always with a fissure between them, filled with hurt and distrust. Kinn has never felt further away from him than he does now. Porsche wants to bridge that gap, but he doesn’t know how.
“I’m sorry for all of it,” Porsche says, tone verging on pleading. “Tell me what I can do. I love you. I’ll do anything.”
Kinn looks away, out of the window to the skyline opposite, but Porsche knows his body language well enough to see his shoulders relax. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t doubt that you love me, just whether or not you’ll lie to me again. Or leave in the middle of the night.”
“I’m sorry.” Porsche will say it as many times as Kinn needs to hear it.
Kinn uncoils from the window the same way he draws his gun, steady and sure. Porsche can sense a certain air settle over him, a calm authority that feels much more familiar. A glimpse of the Kinn he used to be, before the shootout—before Porsche left.
“You can show me how sorry you are.” Kinn puts the glass down on a nearby table. “Get on the bed.”
Porsche hesitates. He didn’t think this was the direction that Kinn would go in and it confuses him, coming now as it does with Kinn looking at him expectantly, no sign of the sorrow that’s haunted him for a week, like he’s finally come to a decision.
“Get on the bed,” Kinn repeats, arms crossed. “Take off your clothes.”
Porsche can’t do anything but comply. He kneels in the centre of the bed, completely naked and facing Kinn, who is slowly unbuttoning his own shirt. He has to force himself to look away from those perfect hands and back up to Kinn’s face.
“You thought you couldn’t trust me.” Kinn drops his shirt to the floor, fingers drifting down to his pants, tugging down the fly. “I admit the close relationship with my father may have contributed to that, but that wasn’t an excuse to go behind my back.”
Porsche swallows. “I know.”
When Kinn’s pants join his shirt, Porsche can make out the outline of his cock beneath his boxers. Liquid-heat begins to pool in his gut. Kinn hooks his thumbs into the waistband and strips them off before joining Porsche on the bed, kneeling up to face him. Porsche watches him, both wary and unbearably turned on. He has no idea what Kinn is planning and it only makes everything more intense.
“We have to trust each other for this to work. Can you do that?”
Porsche doesn’t know what Kinn is going to ask of him. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. “Yes,” he whispers.
Kinn regards him coolly. “Good.”
A hand fists into the back of his hair and wrenches his head backwards. Porsche gasps, entire throat exposed, struggling to look at Kinn with half-lidded, unfocused eyes.
“No matter what happens,” Kinn murmurs, gliding his nails down Porsche’s torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “No matter what I do to you, or how hard I push you. You’re not allowed to come.”
Porsche shivers, unable to help himself. He’s heard that last part before, after he and Kinn discovered how much he likes it when he has to wait, how much better it is when he’s almost crying with how badly he needs it, overwhelmed and overstimulated with Kinn the only thing keeping him tethered. “For how long?”
“Days.” Kinn’s fist tightens in his hair. Porsche whines softly, at the sting in his roots and the words from Kinn’s mouth. “Weeks. Not until I say you can. Not until you’ve proven yourself to me.”
He manoeuvres Porsche, pushing him down onto his back, climbing on top in order to look down at him. His gaze, calm and focused, rakes down Porsche’s body, lingering between his legs, where Porsche’s cock is already hard and flushed. “I’m not going to make this easy for you, sweetheart,” he says, almost apologetically.
Porsche’s eyes shine up at him, trying to push all of his earnest remorse into Kinn through his gaze alone. “I don’t want it to be easy.”
Kinn’s expression flashes through with warmth and something edging on pride. It feels like a start, like perhaps Porsche really can fix what’s broken between them.
Porsche stretches his arms above his head, holding them there as if pinned. Kinn’s lips part, just staring at him, admiring the sight below him. Porsche’s stomach, heaving gently in anticipation. The flush climbing up his chest, the compliant look on his face. Kinn reaches out, grabbing Porsche’s nipple and pinching it. Porsche gasps, arching up into the touch, only for Kinn to push him back down.
Kinn raises up onto his knees and shuffles forward, hovering over Porsche’s chest, until his knees are nestled just below Porsche’s underarms. It puts Kinn’s cock directly in front of Porsche’s face, whose mouth is already beginning to water, spread out and vulnerable on his back but flushing hotter, realising Kinn’s intentions.
“I want you to touch yourself while I fuck your mouth,” he instructs. “Don’t come.”
He thumbs at his bottom lip until Porsche drops his jaw open, trying to smother the needy noise in the back of his throat. His head is half-propped up by the pillows. It’s the perfect angle for Kinn to hold himself at the base and slowly feed his cock into his mouth.
He starts with just the tip, letting Porsche get him wet, licking around the cockhead, swiping his tongue up the slit. Kinn makes a guttural noise as he laps up the beaded precome, fisting a hand into the top of Porsche’s hair to control his movements.
Once he’s wet the glide is slicker, easier, as Kinn dips a few inches inside. The thick weight of Kinn’s cock gliding across his tongue has him dazed, trying to breathe through his nose. Porsche’s fingers twitch by his head from where his hands are still pinned in offering. He hollows his cheeks, sucks harder, trying to make it good for Kinn, keeping his mind on Kinn’s pleasure rather than his own.
“Porsche,” Kinn prompts, voice gone rough from arousal, sliding his cock in a little deeper on each push in.
It takes Porsche a moment to remember what Kinn ordered him to do. He brings one hand down, wrapping it around his sensitive cock, beginning to tug himself in unhurried pulls, toes curling at how good it feels. Knowing he won’t be allowed to come somehow puts him more on edge.
Kinn’s cock goes deeper, brushing across Porsche’s soft palate, meeting resistance. Porsche spasms, fighting the instinct to choke. Kinn doesn’t have to speak for Porsche to forcefully push down his gag reflex, blinking up at Kinn with wet eyes from the strain, letting his throat open as much as he can.
There’s a split second pause, then the head of Kinn’s cock slides down into the tight space of his throat like it was made for it. The groan that spills from Kinn’s mouth is half-feral, losing a fraction of his control, beginning to fuck Porsche’s mouth faster, deeper, like Porsche is a toy, just somewhere warm and wet to shove his cock.
The truth is that Porsche likes it when his body is no longer his, something that only exists for Kinn to manipulate and use. His eyes roll back, mouth stretched wide around Kinn’s girth, jerking himself frantically in the circle of his own fist. He’s leaking so much that there’s no need for lube; the wet sounds make his face burn, knowing how easy he is for it, getting off from just the thick glide of a cock fucking his throat. He never wants it to stop.
Kinn’s thrusts are getting sloppier, his breathing ragged, both hands fisted in Porsche’s hair so hard he’s in danger of tearing it out. The air around them is sweltering, sweat dripping down Porsche’s temples, his throat raw and aching and perfect. His cock throbs, the heat twisting in his belly too fast, too much, rushing up so quickly it almost blindsides him. Choking on a whimper, Porsche clamps down at the base of his cock, squeezing down to stop himself coming as Kinn continues to use him, holding his head in place and moaning his name as he gets closer.
“So sweet for me, your mouth is perfect,” Kinn groans, “taking me so well, sweetheart— ” and then he’s coming, moaning as he spills into Porsche’s throat in thick spurts, pulling back just enough to rest the tip against his tongue, letting the last of it pool there.
He stays there for a moment, breathing laboured, just looking down at Porsche, not pulling out, making him hold the tip of him inside his mouth. Porsche’s fist squeezes tighter around the base of his dick, trying to calm his rapid pulse. Watching and feeling Kinn come has yanked his own orgasm up to simmer dangerously close to the surface.
Kinn carefully slips his cock free. Porsche knows better than to swallow immediately.
“Show me.” Kinn’s eyes are dark and half-possessed.
Porsche tries not to squirm. He opens his mouth, presenting his tongue tucked inside, showing white pooled on top of pink. A trickle of it begins to leak out of the corner of his mouth, but Kinn doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, so Porsche waits. Obedient.
“Swallow,” Kinn orders. Immediately, Porsche does. Kinn moves off Porsche, stretching out by his side, propped up on one elbow. He reaches out, swiping up the trickle of come with two fingers, bringing them to Porsche’s lips. They slip inside easily, hooking down behind Porsche’s teeth, who pliantly sucks them clean.
“Messy,” Kinn comments idly. He glances down between Porsche’s legs, at the ruddy pink tip peeking between his fingers, glistening with precome. “You’re wet everywhere, aren’t you?”
Porsche’s cock jumps in his fist. He moans around Kinn’s fingers. It wouldn’t take much to come, just a few more jerks of his hand.
Kinn slips his fingers free only to pinch his jaw, roughly turning his head to catch his eye. “Do you think you deserve to come?”
Porsche’s brain is hazy. Blunt nails dig into his cheeks. He can barely focus on Kinn’s face, but he knows that what they just did isn’t enough to absolve him. “No,” he rasps, throat raw from being fucked.
Kinn’s eyes flash again with that proud warmth. “No,” he agrees, “you don’t. Let go of your cock.”
Everything within him strains for release. Porsche briefly considers begging, but he knows it would be futile. He reluctantly lets go, hips bucking up involuntarily to chase it, a hurt sound caught in his throat. He plants his hands by his sides, fingers twisting into the sheets to stop himself from reaching out again.
Kinn places a sweet kiss to his temple. “Good boy.”
Porsche closes his eyes, overwhelmed. Despite aching from being denied, there’s a sense of accomplishment that accompanies Kinn’s praise.
There’s a rustling noise as Kinn climbs off the bed, padding across the room to their closet. Porsche keeps his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing steadily, willing his erection to flag. It takes a few minutes, and a lot of willpower, but eventually he calms down enough to sit up.
Kinn is returning from their closet, dressed in a pair of his silk pants, with something cradled in his hand. Whatever it is, it must have been hidden pretty well, because Porsche has never seen it before. As Kinn stops in front of the bed, Porsche shuffles to sit on the edge of the bed to try and get a better look.
“There’s something else I want you to do.” It’s the first time all evening Kinn has sounded uncertain.
“Anything.”
Kinn unfurls his fingers. Cradled in the palm of his hand is a cock cage. It’s made of smooth, silver metal: one large metal ring at the base with several sequential rings that make up the length, each one getting smaller as they get towards the tip. There’s a tiny padlock at the base. Overall, the whole contraption is neat and unassuming. Porsche’s mouth goes dry at the sight of it, heart rate climbing for reasons he doesn’t quite understand.
“I want you to wear this every night, but only when we’re sleeping. I’ll unlock it in the morning. Okay?”
“Anything,” Porsche repeats thickly, still staring at the device in Kinn’s hand.
Kinn looks relieved. “Lean back.”
Porsche leans back slightly on his palms, allowing Kinn to settle on his knees in front of the bed. Spreading his legs so Kinn can fit the chastity device somehow feels more intimate than anything they’ve ever done. It makes him feel both exposed and unbearably safe.
Careful hands slip the cage onto his soft cock; the widest ring fits beneath his balls, pressed snugly behind them like a cock ring would. The rest of his length slots through the smaller rings until it’s fully encased. Kinn produces a small silver key to lock the padlock in place. It isn’t uncomfortable – the metal is already beginning to warm from his body heat.
Kinn stares down at his caged cock with nothing less than abject reverence. His hands bracket Porsche’s spread thighs, thumbs gliding absently along the sensitive skin where his thigh meets his torso. When Kinn’s eyes flick up to meet Porsche’s, his gaze is steady and hot. Porsche’s breath hitches as he feels his body try, and fail, to react. There’s nothing painful, no sharp screws or blunt spikes that hurt him as his cock tries to swell. There’s only the smooth, unyielding press of the metal rings encasing him, preventing him from getting hard.
“Kinn,” Porsche breathes, half-shock, half-awe. The dull ache of being denied sits warm in his belly.
Kinn’s thumb trails down, brushing gently over the swell of his balls, the only part of him Kinn can still access. Porsche makes a tiny ah sound as that strange, obstructive pressure keeps him soft again. “Please,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for: please touch me or please no more.
Kinn takes his hand away and stands. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment echoes in Porsche’s chest. Kinn threads the small key onto a thin chain and slips it around his neck, letting it fall to lay on his chest, just beside his heart. Porsche stares at it and wonders how such a small, unassuming thing could represent such ownership and trust. The significance of it all at once becomes clear.
Kinn has the only key. Porsche can’t leave in the middle of the night without Kinn knowing because there’s nobody else who could unlock the cage for him. It’s the perfect solution to keep Porsche where he belongs and allow Kinn to sleep peacefully—something he hasn’t been able to do in weeks.
Tears prick at Porsche’s eyes. He feels overwrought and raw. The fear of losing Kinn, the ache of his ruined orgasm, the relief that Kinn is giving him this chance. All of it coalesces, threatening to overwhelm him. As gentle fingers card through his hair, it takes him a moment to realise he’s shaking. Porsche’s eyes flit up to Kinn’s tender face.
“It’s okay,” Kinn says softly.
Porsche lets his head drop to rest against Kinn’s abdomen, arms winding around his waist, hiding in the safety of Kinn’s body. He’s more overwhelmed than he wants to admit. He has to swallow down the lump in his throat as familiar hands drift up and down his back, soothing the bunched up muscles of his shoulders.
“It’s okay,” Kinn says again.
Porsche exhales a cleansing breath against his skin. Kinn curls a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up, searching for something in his expression.
I’m sorry, Porsche thinks, drowning in those safe brown eyes.
Kinn leans down and kisses him. It’s the first time they’ve kissed since Porsche showed him the note. Porsche clings to him, opens up greedily, lets Kinn push sweet assurances into his mouth with his tongue, his entire body lighting up with it. If Porsche could bottle this feeling, he’d carry it around with him so he’d never be alone.
“Better?” Kinn murmurs.
Porsche nods. He finds he’s unwilling to speak, not wanting to disturb the easy silence between them. Kinn slips away, closing the electric blinds, plugging their phones in to charge, then settling comfortably on his side of the bed.
Kinn lifts an arm. “Come here, darling.”
The cage makes a quiet metallic noise when he shifts to comply. It startles Porsche into looking down—he’d almost forgotten he was wearing it. His soft cock looks small and vulnerable beneath the device.
Kinn huffs a quiet laugh. Porsche looks up at him, cheeks flushing. Kinn’s smile is warm, amused, and indulgent. Porsche hurriedly crawls into the cradle of Kinn’s body, hiding his warm face in Kinn’s neck. The smooth metal of the cage ends up pressed against Kinn’s bare hip. Kinn makes a pleased hum as he feels it. “You agreed to it so easily,” he comments.
Porsche doesn’t reply. He has one knee thrown over Kinn’s thigh, enjoying the way the silk trousers feel against his skin.
“It’s rare for you to have nothing to say. Is the brat really not going to fight it?”
The back of Porsche’s neck burns, but there’s no protestation in his embarrassed silence. Any brattiness has been quashed out of him by the weight of the metal between his legs. He can’t touch himself even if he wanted to. It feels good to know that Kinn has taken that choice away from him, as if Kinn is making it easier for him to prove himself.
“If I knew caging you would make you this obedient, I would have done it much sooner.”
Porsche thumps Kinn weakly in the thigh. Kinn laughs softly, the sound carefree and light. It’s the type of laugh that Porsche hasn’t heard since the night he left.
For the first time in a long time, Kinn falls asleep before him.
Porsche wakes to Kinn’s head between his legs. Blearily, Porsche looks down the sprawl of his body to see Kinn sliding his caged length between his lips. With the barrier of the cage, all Porsche can feel is the enduring warmth of Kinn’s mouth, but it’s enough to make desire spike straight through him.
“What are you doing?” Porsche mumbles.
Kinn flicks his tongue out, managing to reach through the gap between two of the rings to gently brush against his cock. It’s like receiving an electric shock; his toes curl, body twitching as it tries to respond to the stimulation, that frustrating ache throbbing in his belly again as he remains soft.
“Kinn,” Porsche complains, head still muzzy with sleep.
Kinn takes pity on him, using the key to unlatch the padlock and pull the entire cage free. The relief is immediate. Blood rushes to his cock so fast that it makes him dizzy, pleasure rushing through his body like water through a broken dam, filling out rapidly in Kinn’s grasp.
Kinn takes him all the way into his mouth with no warning, no easing him in, just tight, warm suction as he bobs his head. Porsche’s back bows, fucking up into wet heat so roughly that Kinn has to pin his hips back down. It feels like a million nerve endings standing on end, his whines getting more and more desperate as a fire builds in his body.
“I can’t,” Porsche moans, ragged, “I can’t, I—”
Kinn pulls off completely. Porsche feels like crying at the loss of sensation. He paws uselessly at Kinn’s broad shoulder, trying to calm his breathing as his building orgasm fades to a glowing ember. Kinn wastes no time clambering on top of him. He straddles Porsche’s abdomen, shoving the waistband of his silk pants to his thighs, his cock springing free in all its impressive glory.
“Do you want me to—?”
“No.” Kinn is already jerking himself off, staring down at the wrecked sight that Porsche makes. “Just lie there and look pretty. If you want to help, play with your tits.”
Porsche groans in complaint, obediently rolling the tight buds between his fingers. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You love it,” Kinn shoots back, voice low and strained in a way that means he’s already close. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from Porsche’s chest, watching him pinch at his nipples until they’re swollen and puffy, hand moving quicker over himself in short, sharp pulls until his body goes taut and he’s coming with a quiet moan. It hits Porsche’s chest and neck in wet, hot splashes. Some of it ends up across Porsche’s chin and lower lip.
Kinn leans down to lick it off his chin before sucking Porsche’s lip into his mouth. He sits back after, brushing against Porsche’s sensitive cock and making him hiss.
“We both have a meeting in one hour,” Kinn says, sounding unconcerned at Porsche’s current state. He climbs off the bed and heads to the bathroom.
Porsche has to turn his head and breathe into the pillow for five minutes before he can move without feeling as if he’s about to come. It takes another five for him to stagger towards the bathroom, by which time Kinn has already emerged from the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and started applying his skincare products, a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.
Porsche leaves the compound on his own that morning and notices he isn’t followed. It’s the first sign of a tentative trust being built back up between them. His denied orgasm almost forgotten, Porsche goes through the rest of his morning feeling a little bit lighter.
He swiftly gets pulled back into the chaos of trying to repair the minor family. There are countless arrangements to make, so many decisions to be discussed, all while running on minimal staff. He spends most of it in the courtyard at the long table, where it’s open and bright, with the exception of the meetings with external partners that are held elsewhere in Bangkok.
By the time Porsche gets back to his office, hours have passed, and Kinn is waiting for him. Seeing Kinn in his office, instead of the other way around, is surreal.
Kinn greets him with a kiss before pulling back. “Did you eat today?” His face is impassive but his eyes are expectant. He already knows the answer and is waiting to see if Porsche will lie.
“No,” Porsche answers. With the amount of work there is to do, there hasn’t been time. It feels wrong to admit something that could make Kinn worry, but Kinn seems to relax at his honesty.
“Did you sleep well?”
Porsche remembers bare skin against silken sheets, wearing nothing but the cage. He’d awoken only once in the middle of the night, face tucked into Kinn’s chest. The cage made him feel small and safe and loved. He’d wanted to curl into Kinn until he was even smaller. He nods at Kinn, feeling inexplicably shy. There’s something about what they’re doing that makes him feel squirmy and warm.
Kinn smiles. Porsche knows he’s being tested. Judging by the tender look on Kinn’s face, he just passed with flying colours. Before he can get lost in the general aura of Kinn’s presence, a knock at the door distracts him. Kinn drops casually into the chair opposite his desk, gesturing pointedly to the door.
“Come in,” Porsche calls.
The door opens to reveal Noi carrying a tray laden with sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, jam, and tea. Porsche makes a delighted little sound as he recognises the logo of the cafe he and Kinn visited on their first official date.
“Khun Kinn arranged to have these delivered,” Noi tells him, trying and failing to hide her smile.
Porsche sits in the chair behind his desk while she arranges all the food and tea on its surface. “Thank you, Noi,” he says sincerely. Kinn watches them with interest.
Noi winks at Porsche as she leaves. Delivering food to him is way below her pay grade, which means she chose to bring it just to pry. He throws her a grin and a tiny finger heart for her troubles. Fond laughter echoes in the hallway as the door shuts behind her.
“You seem to have won Noi over,” Kinn notes. He’s already spreading clotted cream and strawberry jam onto one of the scones. “My uncle only ever thought of them as servants. I’m not sure he knew how loyal they could be if given the chance.”
Porsche thinks of Erika, and the lengths she went to in order to protect Kinn and the major family. There are a lot of similarities between her and Noi.
“I just told her the truth.” Porsche fondly watches Kinn chew, happy for this snapshot of peace in an otherwise chaotic day. “It turns out that honesty can go a long way when it comes to trust.”
Kinn gazes at him for a beat, before leaning over the desk and kissing him. It tastes like strawberries and a hint of cream.
They fall into a routine. Their work in the organisation keeps them busy, especially navigating the new truce between the two families without upsetting their clients. He and Kinn ensure to find time for just the two of them, organising little dates, or just basking in each other’s company. Following that, Kinn finds new ways to completely take Porsche apart without letting him come. Every night, he fastens Porsche into the cage, the both of them relaxing once it clicks in place.
They take a bath together one evening. Porsche reclines against Kinn’s chest, skimming a hand through the mountain of bubbles, letting Kinn wash his hair in contented silence.
After, Kinn pins him face first to the bed and eats him out until Porsche is practically sobbing, unsteady on his knees as Kinn spreads him wide. His mouth and tongue are hot and unrelenting, licking inside until his hole softens, cock dripping all over the bed sheets. Porsche is so overcome with arousal that he doesn’t even notice Kinn reach for the lube until two slick fingers slip inside him, all the way up to the knuckles.
Porsche keens at the stretch, trying to drop down to the mattress to get some friction against his neglected cock, or get away from Kinn’s probing fingers. Kinn simply fits his free hand to the curve of his waist and tugs him back up.
Porsche pants into his arm. “Fuck—fuck you.”
“Brat,” Kinn responds, rotating the fingers until they’re palm down, curling the pads of them into Porsche’s prostate in a cruel massage.
“Kinn, Kinn—ah, fuck.” Porsche writhes. It feels like Kinn is stroking his dick from the inside.
“No matter what I do to you,” Kinn reminds him. “No matter how far I push you.”
His palm begins to make contact with Porsche’s cheeks in sharp, wet smacks as he rapidly fingerfucks him, nailing his prostate with complete precision. Porsche is overwhelmed, knees scrambling against the silk sheets, trying to get away from the way it scorches through his entire body. An arm hooks around his waist and effortlessly drags him back, forcing him back up onto his knees again.
Porsche is open-mouthed and drooling against the sheets as Kinn spreads his cheeks and licks around his fingers, sucking and lapping at his taint, his tongue so hot that Porsche can only sob.
Kinn is relentless, never letting Porsche catch his breath, stroking at his insides until a starburst of pleasure grows beneath his navel. Time passes in a blur of tears and flared nerves as Porsche reaches back to claw at Kinn’s wrist, trying to slow him down. A single touch against his cock would tip him over the edge, but Kinn still hasn’t given him permission to come.
His building orgasm makes him panic, nails biting into Kinn’s skin as his abdomen tightens dangerously. “Stop, stop,” he cries, “Kinn, you have to—I’m too close—”
Instantly, Kinn’s fingers are gone. It’s like being dumped in ice water, every muscle straining towards a release that will never come. His chest heaves with haggard breaths as his hole clenches down on nothing.
Kinn presses an adoring kiss to Porsche’s tailbone. “Good boy.”
Porsche can only manage a quiet sound in response. Kinn slips his cock inside and fucks him slowly after that, careful to avoid his sensitive prostate, grinding in neat circles and keeping him teetering on that edge in a way that’s maddening. He whines and kicks his feet in frustration but Kinn just squeezes his wrists together and fits his teeth to the nape of his neck, making him go limp like a ragdoll. As Kinn comes hotly inside, he has to bite down on his lip to distract from his aching cock.
It takes longer than normal for Porsche to go soft enough for Kinn to slide the cage into place.
“How are things with the minor family?”
Porsche looks up from his plate. Between their back-to-back meetings, he and Kinn managed to steal away to the dining area to enjoy a meal together. The table is semi-private, sequestered away from prying eyes only by a thin wall with an open doorway.
Kinn is peering at him expectantly. The truth is that leading a minor mafia clan isn’t easy, especially after its almost-decimation. Porsche has been scouring dossiers and contracts, trying to make sense of them, all while actively screening and interviewing potential recruits to their staff.
The instinct to lie surges upwards. It would make Kinn’s life easier if Porsche could handle this on his own. Kinn shifts in his seat, reaching forward for his drink, eyes still on Porsche’s face as the low cut of his shirt parts further to reveal the key resting on its chain, glinting against his chest. Porsche is abruptly reminded of his promise to Kinn about honesty.
“It’s all very new,” Porsche admits. Kinn nods in understanding, appearing unsurprised. “There’s a lot in the documentation that I don’t fully understand. Between reading Gun’s old notes and trying to hire new bodyguards we can trust, it’s been a lot to handle on my own.”
“What do you need?”
Beneath the table, the side of Kinn’s foot drags up Porsche's ankle, slipping beneath his trouser leg to drift over the skin. With the constant edging and no relief from the past few days, it’s enough to have Porsche shivery and half-hard.
“I need—I—” Porsche clenches his fist around his fork, trying to ignore Kinn’s teasing touches. “I need to borrow more bodyguards until I can hire new ones.”
“You can have as many of my people as you need. I’ll ask Arm to confirm actual numbers with you. I’ll also send a member of our legal team to your office to explain some of the jargon in the contracts.”
“Thank you,” Porsche says absently. He’s staring at the key between Kinn’s pecs.
“Anything else?”
“Why do you still wear the key even when I’m not wearing the cage?”
Kinn presses his finger to the place where the key lies. His gaze is like ember, hot and focused. “I like it,” he murmurs. “I like what it represents.”
The implication runs down Porsche’s spine. “Me too.”
Kinn sits back. His foot is drifting along Porsche’s calf in slow, methodical, up and down motions. “What would you do if I asked you to crawl under the table and suck me off right here?”
“Probably come on the spot.”
Kinn laughs, that soft, incandescent one that turns his eyes to crescents. Porsche almost gets lost in it. A staff member appears in the doorway, wandering over to refill their water glasses. Kinn doesn’t shift his foot away. Porsche drops a napkin in his lap so she can’t see the evidence of his arousal. He’d almost forgotten they were in public.
“Later,” Kinn promises.
That evening, Kinn suggests a position they’ve never tried before.
He directs Porsche to lie on his back, head hanging off the edge of the bed, upside down. To prevent the temptation of touching himself, Porsche has his hands wrapped around the backs of Kinn’s thighs.
Standing at the side of the bed, Kinn is at the perfect height and angle to feed his cock directly down Porsche’s throat. As he slides forward, Porsche fights the urge to choke, breathing shallowly through his nose. Kinn pauses halfway in, his throat spasming as the tip of Kinn’s cock nudges the tight space.
Kinn thumbs at the stretched corner of Porsche’s mouth. “Let me in, baby.”
Porsche shudders at the gentle command. He swallows reflexively, willing his throat to open, tugging Kinn closer by his thighs. Kinn slides all the way in with a soft groan. The angle is different, letting Kinn go deeper than he’s ever reached. Porsche’s eyelashes are damp, jaw prised open and throat stuffed full. Kinn cups his hands beneath the hinge of Porsche’s jaw and begins to facefuck him.
He’s in danger of coming just from this. Being used so easily by Kinn has always driven him dangerously close to the edge. He’s so hard that every drag of Kinn’s cock inside his throat makes his dick jerk, precome drooling messily on his stomach despite the lack of direct stimulation. He aches for relief. It’s overwhelming, hearing and feeling Kinn take his own pleasure, knowing that he’s not allowed to come unless Kinn gives him permission.
Kinn reaches out a hand to fit his palm to Porsche’s neck. He makes a harsh, hungry noise as he traces where his cock lies beneath the skin. Porsche chokes on a muffled moan, his stomach tightening. Kinn’s thrusts get deeper, erratic, as if he can feel his cock moving in Porsche’s throat from the inside and out. Tears leak out the side of Porsche’s eyes at the strain, sliding down his temples to drop into his hair.
Kinn’s thrusts get rougher, sliding almost the entire length of his cock out each time to make Porsche feel it, only to slam back inside to the hilt. His cock partially obstructs his airway, only allowing small inhales in through his nose. The lack of oxygen is dizzying. The rush of blood from the position makes his brain feel disconnected from his body. His grip on Kinn’s thighs goes limp, eyes half-lidded.
His mind begins to drift, to a place somewhere high above everything, where all he wants is to be good for Kinn. He’s vaguely aware of his mouth stretched wide around the base, clumsily tonguing at any part he can reach.
This is the only thing he needs. Nothing else matters but this: Kinn’s breathless moans as his resolve slips, gripping Porsche’s face to fuck him in earnest, saliva and precome leaking out the corner of his lips.
Each thrust is wet and deep and messy, the whole thing lasting seconds, or minutes, or hours, before Kinn’s body goes taut and he empties himself down Porsche’s throat. The sudden rush of come slams Porsche back into awareness, his eyes widening as he struggles to swallow while upside down. He’s whimpering and scrabbling at Kinn’s thighs until Kinn draws his cock all the way out, spit and come still drooling from the tip.
Porsche takes in a harsh, gulping breath, twisting over onto his side to take in more air, head swimming from the sudden rush of oxygen. The swollen ache of his cock crashes into full focus. He’s so hard that it hurts, eyes stinging from the heat of desperate tears.
“Please.” The word is scraped from his throat. He fists his shaking hands in the sheets to stop himself from reaching down. Kinn gazes down at him, sympathetic and unbearably tender. Porsche dares to let himself hope. “Please,” he whispers.
“No,” Kinn replies, gentle but firm, “not yet.”
Porsche chokes out a noise that edges on a sob, curling up into a ball. He’s being held suspended in one place, stretched too taut, denied that sweet release for so long that it feels like he might shatter into a thousand pieces.
Kinn climbs onto the bed, sliding an arm beneath Porsche’s knees and pulling him into his lap, making shushing and soothing noises all the while. Porsche trembles and clings to him, burying his face in the crook of his neck, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing between his legs.
“You’re doing so well,” Kinn murmurs, carding a hand through Porsche’s mussed hair. The warmth in his voice is unmistakable.
Kinn holds him while he quietens, tenderly petting his hair. Porsche allows his body to relax in Kinn’s arms. Despite his unrelenting need to come, he feels safe when they’re like this. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’ll do this as long as Kinn needs it. Porsche can only hope that he doesn’t break before then.
It takes a few minutes for Porsche to stop shaking and his cock to soften. Kinn slips out from behind him and fetches the cage. The cool metal rings are beginning to feel like a comfort – preventing him from accidentally brushing against anything that could get him hard. Without it, he’s so highly strung that he’d end up grinding his stiff cock into the mattress in the middle of the night.
Once in place, Kinn slides the tiny silver key into the padlock. The metallic click of the lock echoes in Porsche’s ears. Any remaining tension in his body melts away. It’s easy to follow Kinn’s instructions when his cock is safely locked up like this. There’s no more temptation.
Kinn watches Porsche’s eyes go heavy-lidded. There’s a mixture of pride and possession in his face. “Good?”
Porsche nods. Kinn arranges them both on their sides until Porsche’s back is nestled against his chest. One of Kinn’s arms wraps around Porsche’s middle, his hand drifting down to cup over Porsche’s soft cock, nestled safely inside the cage.
It’s not the first time Kinn’s slept like this—it seems to bring him some level of peace. It makes Porsche feel claimed. Like Kinn has no intentions of letting him go.
Porsche sinks into the feeling of being cherished. He falls asleep instantly.
Kinn is tense. Porsche can sense it like a fog in the air as soon as he walks into the conference room. The room is empty save for Kinn, standing rigidly by the window. Porsche heads over to join him, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Arm told me to meet you here. Is everything okay?”
Kinn turns. “When did you last speak to Vegas?”
Porsche is startled by the sudden line of questioning. “The night of the shootout.”
It’s not a lie, which Kinn picks up on, a little bit of tension melting out of him at the confirmation. Porsche tries to ignore the pang in his chest. Despite Vegas trying to kill them, Kinn’s mistrust of his cousin runs so deep that he still thinks there’s a chance Porsche would contact him again.
“What about Pete?”
“A few days ago. On the phone.” Kinn nods once in acknowledgment. When he doesn’t say anything else, the urge to explain himself crawls its way up Porsche’s throat. “Pete is my friend,” he says.
Faint surprise on Kinn’s face. “I know.”
“Okay.”
Kinn studies him, his expression softening at whatever he sees. He reaches out a hand to cup Porsche’s cheek, drawing him in for a long kiss that has Porsche chasing his lips when he draws away.
“I won’t forbid you from talking to Pete. I can’t blame you for his terrible choice of a companion.”
Porsche exhales the ghost of a laugh that quickly fades away in the tense silence. There’s more to this. Porsche knows there’s more. This close, Kinn’s eyes are piercing. Under his stare, Porsche feels as transparent as glass.
Kinn’s thumb drifts across his cheekbone in a gentle caress. The air around them seems to go still. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
Porsche has wanted to tell Kinn where Vegas is since the moment that he found out. Pete offered the information in exchange for Porsche’s help. He’s the only person other than Macau who knows. Porsche figured there was a tactical advantage to knowing the location of one of their biggest threats—no matter how injured he may be.
If Porsche tells Kinn, Kinn could have a paid assassin at the hospital within ten minutes, or go there himself, ready to end Vegas’ life. It would be easy. He’s unarmed and vulnerable. Kinn could rid himself of Vegas for good.
The truth is that Kinn would have every right. Every time Porsche turns a corner in their home, he’s reminded of the bodies that once littered the ground. Bodyguards, domestic staff – none were spared when the minor family attacked.
People Kinn had known for his whole life, people Porsche had grown to know and love in turn. Vegas had a direct hand in taking their lives. Not to mention that he also sent men to hurt Chay. If Kim hadn’t been there, there’s no telling what might have happened to his brother.
Looking into Kinn’s face, Porsche knows this conversation could be the difference between losing Kinn forever or getting to stay by his side. It’s the easiest decision in the world. There can’t be any more secrets.
“Vegas is in a coma,” Porsche says. A complicated expression crosses Kinn’s face, faint surprise blending into contemplation. “He barely survived his injuries. He’s staying at Samitivej Sukhumvit Hospital in intensive care. Pete and Macau are with him.”
“I see.” Kinn doesn’t offer any other words, staring off into space.
“I kept track of his location in case he was planning to attack us again. I didn’t expect to find him in intensive care. Now that Pete is with him, he isn’t much of a threat.”
“Vegas will always be a threat.”
“Pete thinks he’ll be different when he wakes up.” The words tumble from Porsche’s mouth before he can stop them. He wishes he could take them back as Kinn goes deathly still. “Now that he has someone special he could lose. Now that he has Pete.”
There’s a long beat of silence. “If he wakes up,” Kinn says, dangerously soft, “maybe then he’ll understand how it feels to almost lose your entire world.”
Porsche inhales sharply, thrown back in time. The smell of gunpowder and blood. Vegas’ gun pointed at Porsche’s head. Kinn’s cry of anguish. Terrified, not of his own death, but of Porsche’s.
Porsche has the sudden need to reach for him. “Kinn.”
Kinn eases him forward and kisses him again, both hands framing Porsche’s jaw, feeling his pulse thunder beneath his skin, warm and whole and alive. Porsche’s palm falls to Kinn’s chest when they separate, resting over his beating heart, over the skin-warm metal of the key.
“Thank you for telling me,” Kinn says. He presses a final kiss to Porsche’s nose and lets him go, heading towards the door.
“Kinn,” Porsche calls. Kinn stops and turns to look at him expectantly. There’s a lightness to his body that Porsche hasn’t seen in weeks, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Porsche swallows, wondering how best to word the question. “Do I need to warn Pete?”
It takes less than a second for Kinn to register the meaning. It’s clear by the tone of Porsche’s voice that he won't try to stop him, no matter what he chooses to do. In response, Kinn merely looks thoughtful. “It’s tempting,” he acknowledges, “but that wouldn’t be a very fair fight.”
Porsche manages a distracted smile. His thoughts are swirling around in a cacophony of confusion. It feels like he’s reaching for something significant, but the meaning keeps slipping through his fingertips.
Kinn watches him for a beat. “Is there something else?”
“After all this time. Why ask me about Vegas now? What changed?”
“Vegas’ main bodyguard survived the shooting,” Kinn explains. “One of my scouts caught him this morning trying to flee into the next province over. Before they could kill him, he claimed to have information I’d be interested in.”
“Vegas’ location,” Porsche realises.
Kinn nods. “He wanted an exchange. His freedom for Vegas. He’d watched our feud for years and knew it would be an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“You didn’t want to give him that.”
“He was one of the men who killed Chan. The internal CCTV caught the entire thing. He didn’t deserve his freedom, but I wanted Vegas’ location more.”
“So you brought him back here to negotiate.”
“No,” Kinn says calmly. “I put a bullet between his eyes as soon as he walked through the door.”
Shock lances through Porsche. That man may have been Kinn’s best shot at Vegas, but Kinn didn’t hesitate to take him out anyway. “Why?”
“Because I had you,” Kinn answers, like it’s nothing. Porsche’s lips part in surprise. “I had a feeling that you knew where Vegas was. I believed that you would tell me eventually, and you did.”
“Oh,” Porsche says faintly. The show of faith fills him with awe.
“Come to my office this evening,” Kinn says, then he’s gone.
Kinn has Porsche ride him in his office chair.
He makes Porsche prepare himself, awkwardly opening himself up on three slick fingers while straddled naked over Kinn’s lap. Kinn refuses to help or touch him in any way. He’s still fully clothed, hands resting casually on the arms of his chair, face perfectly neutral. The dismissive nature of it fills Porsche with embarrassed arousal. He’s used to Kinn taking a much more enthusiastic role and the contrast throws him off.
Porsche isn’t able to reach his prostate at this angle. He quickly gets impatient, withdrawing his fingers entirely. His entire body is shaking in anticipation, thinking that this might finally be the day that Kinn lets him come. “I’m done,” he breathes.
Kinn spanks him on the cheek of his ass, the sharp sting ricocheting through Porsche’s body. “Lift up a little.”
“Asshole,” Porsche says around a moan, obediently lifting off Kinn’s lap.
Kinn hums, popping the button on his trousers. “You are what you eat.”
Porsche flushes to the tips of his ears. It’s one of the more ridiculous things Kinn has said. If he wasn’t so determined to behave in the hope that he gets relief, he’d tease him for it.
Kinn pulls his flushed cock out of the opening of his pants and slicks himself up. It appears he doesn’t intend to undress at all, while Porsche is completely nude. The power imbalance goes straight to Porsche’s head.
Kinn taps the thick head of his cock against Porsche’s hole. Just the thought of being fucked to orgasm has him on edge, arousal curled sticky-warm in his belly. He moans softly, squirming in place, kneading helplessly at Kinn’s shoulders.
“You’re a desperate little thing. I’ve barely even touched you.” It’s a tone Kinn’s never used on him before, so amused and condescending that it makes Porsche’s gut clench. “If you need it so badly, take it.”
Porsche reaches back clumsily to hold Kinn’s cock still, sinking down to the root in one perfect slide, mouth dropped open and hole clutching at the initial stretch. Kinn is so long and thick that it always takes a moment for him to get used to being stuffed full.
“There you go.” Kinn’s voice is rougher, no longer unaffected. “Isn’t it better when you’re exactly where you belong?”
Porsche instinctively tightens around Kinn’s cock, proving his point. Planting his hands on Kinn’s shoulders, Porsche starts to ride him, drawing halfway up and letting himself sink back down, eyelashes fluttering in pleasure. As he gets into a rhythm, he drops down harder each time, the muscles in his thighs flexing, noises spilling continuously out of his throat at the perfect friction. Once he finds the angle that grazes his sweet spot, Porsche aims for it on every stroke.
Kinn groans softly, planting a hand at the small of Porsche’s back to encourage him to roll his hips. He thumbs at Porsche’s nipple, squeezing harshly at his sweat-slicked pec, leaving finger-shaped marks behind. Porsche’s cock bounces with his movements, smearing wetness all over Kinn’s shirt. It only takes that tiny bit of friction to make Porsche’s hips stutter.
Kinn reaches out, rolling back Porsche’s foreskin to reveal his drooling cockhead. Porsche gasps sharply, rhythm faltering to a slow grind. Porsche hasn’t touched himself yet, knowing it would push him too close, too fast. He can feel his pulse throbbing against Kinn’s hand. Every day they do this his cock only seems to get more sensitive.
“Look at you,” Kinn murmurs, beginning to stroke him in short pulls. “You’re close already.”
Porsche’s body jolts as every nerve in his body flares, watching his hypersensitive cock disappear in and out of Kinn’s fist. There’s so much precome sliding from the tip that Kinn’s fingers are soaked with it. He’s so overcome with sensation that he can’t even move anymore, clenching down around where Kinn is buried to the hilt. That familiar rush of heat and pressure builds quickly in his core, balls drawing up.
“Please,” Porsche begs, curling in on himself from the intensity, “please, Kinn, can I—is it enough—I need to—”
Kinn lets go. Porsche almost wrenches away as his body protests. Kinn grabs him with steady hands, shushing him, cupping his flushed face to carefully bring their foreheads together. Porsche hears a small whimpering noise and realises it’s coming from him.
“A little bit longer,” Kinn says quietly, an unexpected hint of yearning in his tone. “Just a little more, baby. Can you give me that?”
Porsche makes a broken little sound. His whole body feels like an elastic band, stretched so taut he could snap at any moment, orgasm blisteringly close to the surface. When he manages to focus blurry eyes on Kinn’s expression, the longing he sees reflected there breaks through the profound desperation. Kinn is looking at him like this is the most precious gift in the world.
Porsche’s eyes drift closed in acceptance. “Anything.” His voice trembles around the word, so certain that his soul sings with it. “I’ll give you anything.”
Kinn exhales a reverent breath. “Sweet boy,” he sighs, leaning in to capture Porsche’s lips in a kiss. The small shift nudges Kinn’s cock against his prostate.
Porsche shudders against his lips, nails digging crescents into Kinn’s shoulders. “Don’t move,” he chokes out. “If you don’t want me to come, you have to stop moving.”
Kinn’s fingers slide up into his sweaty hair. “Okay,” he says soothingly, and then again, even softer, “okay, Porsche. I won’t move. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Porsche’s head lolls listlessly into Kinn’s palm. He tries to breathe evenly and concentrate on anything but the thick weight of the cock inside him. He nuzzles absently into Kinn’s hand, appreciating the faint spice of cologne at his wrist. Turning his head, he presses a soft kiss to the skin of his palm. Another to the band of the major family ring.
A noise from below him. Porsche blinks open heavy eyes. Kinn is staring at him in that way he sometimes does, like Porsche personally hung the moon in the sky. As if he can’t believe he gets to keep him.
“Kinn,” Porsche breathes.
Kinn grabs his ass to stabilise him in the air and starts fucking him brutally. Porsche cries out, hands clutching at Kinn’s shoulders as the harsh slap of skin-on-skin echoes in his ears. He can’t do anything but hold on and hope he doesn’t come untouched, with Kinn pounding so deep that Porsche can feel him all the way to the back of his teeth.
Just as Porsche feels like it will never end, Kinn wrenches himself out and comes all over Porsche’s stiff cock, groaning low and harsh as he empties himself in hot splashes. Porsche has to carefully clean himself off in the bathroom attached to Kinn’s private office—shoving Kinn out of the door when he offers to help—turning the water to cold and bringing his painful arousal down to something he can manage.
That night, Porsche stares at the ceiling and lets his focus drift to his cock, sitting soft in the cage between his legs. Being hyper-aware of his restrained desire has simply become the norm for him. He can’t even imagine how it’s going to feel when Kinn finally lets him come, how intense it’s going to be, whether or not Kinn will be inside him.
The familiar feeling of trying to get hard and failing thrums through Porsche’s nerves. He resists the urge to squirm, not wanting to wake Kinn. The only thing he knows for certain is that the wait will be worth it.
A few days turns into a week. One week turns into two.
Porsche lets it go on so long because he knows there’s something else behind this. Every day that he feels more frantic, like he’ll come if Kinn so much as breathes on him, Kinn relaxes more, laughs with a little more life, shoots him secret looks like he’s… proud.
He’s giving Kinn something with this. It’s more than just a punishment, because when he trembles and curls in on himself from being refused, Kinn will pet his hair, tell him how good he’s being, how perfect he is until he stops shaking. He’ll see Porsche’s sweaty brow in a meeting and stop what he’s doing to smile, unabashed and fond.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Some days Porsche’s cock aches when he’s not even aroused at all. Kinn’s mouth, at its most gentle, is all he can take when that happens; a soft, warm tongue that still leaves him gasping and raw.
Two weeks and three days and Porsche is walking around the main family compound wearing a plug. That morning, Kinn had unlocked his cage then rolled him onto his tummy and fingered him loose enough to slide in the lubed plug, kissing him proudly when Porsche just twitched and whined.
Somebody brushes past him in the hallway, enough for Porsche to have to sidestep, nudging the plug further inside. It’s like a hair trigger at the root of his cock. He gets hard instantly. Every resolve held tentatively inside Porsche snaps.
Two weeks and three days and Porsche walks into their bedroom and drops to his knees to press his face to Kinn’s thigh, because he’s desperate and shaky and wretchedly aroused. “Please,” he chokes. “Enough.” He’s begged before, but he’s never meant it this much.
Kinn shushes him, stroking through his hair. “You’ve done so well. Can you stand?” Porsche blinks up at him with unseeing eyes. The corner of Kinn’s mouth lifts, carefully pulling him to his feet. “Let’s move to the bed, come on.”
Kinn pours him onto his back on the mattress and strips him carefully, easing the clothes off him and away from his straining cock, kissing him just below the navel, the closest Porsche will let him get without writhing. Kinn strips himself with much less care before grabbing the lube.
“What are you planning to—?”
“Shh,” Kinn says, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking, playing with it in little flicks of his tongue. He bites down to the side of it, sucking a deep red mark over the swell of his muscle.
Porsche’s entire body thrums with need. His legs have spread wide automatically, clenching down on the plug, too small, not enough to keep him full. He makes a pathetic whining sound, fingers twining into Kinn’s hair when he moves on to the other nipple. “Kinn, more—”
“Shh,” Kinn says again, urging him onto his side, facing away, nestling up behind him and kissing his nape. “How do you want it?”
“Inside me,” Porsche manages to say through the tumult of his body’s continued cries for relief.
Kinn pushes Porsche’s thigh up, bending his leg, pressing his knee into his own chest to give him better access. There’s a harrowing emptiness when Kinn tugs the plug free that has him gasping into his arm.
“Easy, sweetheart.” The slicked, thick head of Kinn’s cock catches on Porsche’s hole. “I’m going to give you what you need.”
Kinn sinks inside all the way to the hilt. Porsche’s head drops back, mouth like an open wound as he’s filled. He tries to speak, to try to articulate the desperation filling his heart and body, but he can’t. All he knows is the ache that’s twisted up inside him, desperate for more. He reaches back to slide his fingers through Kinn’s hair, trying to anchor himself. “Please,” Porsche whispers, forgetting any other words.
Kinn drops his head to Porsche’s neck, drawing his hips slowly backwards, and holding there a long moment, before thrusting deeply back inside. Porsche chokes out a cry, loud and involuntary, his body shuddering. After that he starts fucking Porsche immediately, foot flat to the bed for leverage, his movements purposeful, each one hard and measured.
Kinn reaches so deep that every thrust drags over his prostate. Their bodies press hard together with every joining, claiming motion. The deep rhythmic rocking is so intoxicating, so overwhelming, that Porsche doesn’t even think to put a hand on himself.
Kinn is saying something but Porsche is too far gone, so delirious with his need for release that he can barely hear him over the buzzing in his ears, past the terrifying, coiling pleasure drawing his entire body taut. It’s nearly overwhelming, nearly too raw. Choked whimpers catch in his throat with every wet slap of Kinn’s hips.
A hand wraps around his cock, so oversensitive that it almost hurts, jerking him in time with Kinn’s thrusts. Just when Porsche can no longer bear it, when he’s about to grab Kinn and beg him to stop so he can talk himself down again, Kinn presses in closer and fucks him harder, brushing his mouth against Porsche’s ear so he has no choice but to listen.
“You can come, you can let go, you’ve been so good for me,” Kinn is saying, hand twisting at the tip of Porsche’s cock while hitting him deep and perfect, “you can come, baby.”
Porsche sobs as his orgasm tears through him. It’s like being turned inside out, like fire burning through his veins, like he’s drowning, and his back arches as pleasure crackles out of him, unable to breathe from the force of it. Kinn pounds away at his swollen prostate, fucking every last drop out of him. The release is so intense that he loses time, loses consciousness, everything fading to black.
When he finally blinks back into awareness, beads of come still dripping from his slit, he’s panting heavily, face turned into his own arm. The sheets in front of him are soaked. Kinn is kissing softly up and down his neck, still hard inside him but his hips unmoving.
“Why did you stop?” Porsche mumbles.
Kinn hums a questioning noise, too busy nuzzling at the sweat-soaked hair at the nape of Porsche’s neck to answer. His hips begin to circle in a slow grind, keeping himself nice and deep but letting Porsche catch his breath.
“When I came. Why did you stop?”
“You passed out,” Kinn murmurs against his damp skin. “I lost you there for a second.”
His cock grinds deliciously against Porsche’s prostate, that spike of pain-pleasure making him push his hips back to chase it. “You should have kept going anyway,” he breathes.
The hand on his waist tightens into a vice grip. Kinn’s breathing is slow and even, purposefully so, in a way that indicates he’s close to being overwhelmed. “You would let me fuck you while you’re not even awake?” His voice is strained in disbelief.
Porsche inhales as his cock-drunk brain catches up with his words. The thought of Kinn taking what he needs from his body while Porsche isn’t even aware of it makes Porsche feel shivery with pleasure.
“Yeah,” Porsche rasps out, heart stricken at the truth of it. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”
Behind him, Kinn makes an animalistic sound. He shoves Porsche flat to his stomach, clambering on top of him, hauling his hips upwards, shoving his legs apart with his knees before thrusting deep inside again, pressing his entire weight into Porsche’s back with an anguished groan.
“Kinn,” Porsche moans into the bedding, reaching back to grab Kinn’s bare hip, pulling at him. “Yes, come on, fuck me—”
Kinn chokes out another gut-wrenching sound, his face pressing into Porsche’s back. He pulls his hips back and sinks back inside, pounding into him again fast and relentless; Porsche cries out into the sheets, toes curling.
“This is only for me,” Kinn moans against Porsche’s back, thrusting wildly into him, both arms around his chest, sweat slick between them. “You wouldn’t give this to anyone else.”
“I wouldn’t.” Porsche chokes as Kinn claims what’s his again and again, wild and passionate. “Yours, yours, always—”
Porsche didn’t think he had anything left to give but the brutal hammering of his prostate lights a fire within him, his flushed cock still drooling streams of precome, hanging heavy between his legs as Kinn fucks him with little mercy.
“I could just stay here in our room, waiting for you, always ready for you to fuck me,” Porsche babbles. Kinn makes another feral noise, low and dangerous. “You could tie me to the bed, leave me there, put a plug in me. I think about it all the time—just letting you take me whenever you want. Whenever you’re not inside me I feel like I can’t breathe because I’m so empty.”
Kinn sinks his teeth into the column of Porsche’s neck. “Cockslut,” he grits out.
“For you, only for you,” Porsche whines, head thrown back as sharp pain turns to throbbing pleasure. “If you got home while I was sleeping you could—ah, you could just roll me over and bury yourself inside before I even realised what was happening, some days I dream about waking up with your come already dripping out of me—”
“Porsche,” Kinn snarls. The skin of Porsche’s ass flares red by the strength of his thrusts. It’s fast and harried and Porsche breaks apart a dozen times just for Kinn to piece him back together, edges cracking, slipping, shattering between the force of their bodies, until they’re both raw and wild with it.
Kinn is scraping claiming marks into his back with his teeth and tongue, fucking into Porsche like the world is crumbling around them. Wet slaps of skin and heightening friction drive them higher and higher, a savage sound ripping from Kinn as he rapidly sinks his cock into clenching heat.
The room is full of wet sounds, and their ragged breathing, and Porsche’s cries as he writhes beneath Kinn. Pleasure swells in every part of him, in every cell, until with a shocked whine his release washes through him again, trembling and jerking and spurting hot onto the sheets below.
His body is still convulsing with aftershocks when Kinn leans back to spread his cheeks, thumb tugging at his rim, spreading him out further for Kinn to watch as he fucks his cock into him, rubbing over where he’s stretched thin to accommodate.
“Kinn.” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Please. I need it.”
Kinn groans, slamming in wildly, loud and echoing in the room. He shudders violently as Porsche clenches down, tight and squeezing, breaths punching from him as his orgasm hits, filling Porsche’s insides with hot come. Porsche’s eyes flutter when he feels it, frantic energy finally going lax. It feels like it lasts minutes until Kinn’s hips twitch slowly to a stop.
They collapse into the mattress. Porsche is too exhausted to do anything but turn over onto his side, rolling into Kinn’s arms.
Kinn slides his hand down Porsche’s stomach, finding his soft cock, and Porsche whimpers as Kinn fondles it. Minutes pass as Kinn touches him, jerking him slowly until he’s hard again, until Porsche’s gasping against the pillow and bucking into Kinn’s hand. He comes for a third time, weak little splashes on Kinn’s fingers.
Porsche feels empty after that. He crumples into Kinn’s chest, trembling, wet with sweat and come and lube, his mind somehow, blissfully, blank. Kinn’s arms come up to encircle Porsche’s shaking form.
Porsche has never felt so held before. He feels far away from everything. Time and space have gone a bit fuzzy around the edges. Dimly, he’s aware of Kinn saying soft things to him, kissing his temple and the top of his head.
“Porsche,” Kinn says, and Porsche shakes himself, comes back to himself enough to pay attention because he recognizes that Kinn’s tone has suddenly shifted into something serious. “Did you mean it?”
Porsche thinks about all the things he said. It’s easy to figure out the part that makes Kinn sound so guarded. “I meant all of it. I’m yours. I belong to you.”
Kinn exhales gently. “Thank you. For all of it, for agreeing to this.”
“I wanted to do it. Are we—am I forgiven?”
“That wasn’t what this was,” Kinn explains, thumb stroking absently down Porsche’s arm. “At first it was just a way to rebuild trust. For me to see how hard you’d let me push you. And then you just… gave it to me. You gave yourself over to me entirely. You let me have everything.”
“You deserve everything,” Porsche says earnestly.
Kinn looks across at him steadily. “So do you, baby.”
Porsche is rendered completely silent. “Okay,” he says shakily, post-coital emotions too raw for this kind of conversation. “What about the note?”
Kinn accepts the change in subject. “I threw it away.”
That surprises Porsche. “When?”
“I don’t know. Two weeks ago,” Kinn replies, as if it’s inconsequential. “Once I was confident you weren’t going to run away again, I didn’t see the point in keeping it.”
Abruptly, Porsche remembers the cock cage. “What about the cage?”
“You don’t have to wear it anymore.”
A flicker of disappointment in Porsche’s gut. “You got rid of it?”
Kinn scans his face, picking up on the sudden stiffness in Porsche’s shoulders. “No. I still have it.”
“Oh.” Porsche relaxes again. “Good.”
Kinn slides a possessive arm over his waist, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, picking up on what Porsche isn’t saying. “We can use it whenever you want to.”
Porsche will spend his whole life marvelling at how easily Kinn understands him. “I would want to. When I’m in the mood. Not all the time, but…” he trails off, trying to articulate the way it made him feel. “At first I thought it was just insurance to stop me from leaving again. Or just a way to stop the temptation. I thought that’s all it would be.”
When they first met, and Kinn used to tell him Porsche’s life was his, it made Porsche angry. That was before Porsche chose to give it to him freely. When Kinn loves, he loves with everything he is, and all the complexities that come with it. To be considered worthy enough to belong to Kinn is a privilege that not many people have been bestowed.
“I realised it made me feel like I belong to you. The key, the cage, all of it. That’s why you liked it so much. I liked that feeling, too.” Porsche’s voice gets quieter. “I’ve never really had anybody who wanted to keep me before.”
“I never want to let you go,” Kinn admits.
Porsche kisses him. This feeling is so big he can’t do anything besides push it into Kinn’s mouth and swirl it around. He breaks the kiss after a few short moments. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Kinn gazes across at Porsche as if he is the centre of all things. “I know,” he murmurs, and means it.
Porsche’s heart rate slows, settling safely in the cage of his body. Kinn’s lips grace his cheek, then his neck, just below his ear, peppering his skin with delicate kisses, causing him to shiver again. Porsche’s hands settle at the base of Kinn’s spine, holding him close. He brushes his nose against Kinn’s cheek, smiling against his skin.
The world shrinks to their sun-drenched bedroom. The only thing that matters to Porsche is that he continues holding Kinn close to him, no matter what.