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They don’t stop clutching at each other right away.
Even if Porsche had tried, Kinn doesn’t think that he would allow it. He needs to be pressed up against as much of Porsche as he can.
If Porsche is holding on, he stills loves Kinn.
Love.
It’s been a while since someone has used such a word for anything they felt for Kinn.
And there’s no way for him to know if the man that had used it really meant it at all.
“We should go back,” Porsche’s voice is gratifyingly rough, “before someone starts wondering what’s going on.”
The reminder of where they are and exactly who is outside is a sharp pin in the bubble of softness that they’d built together and everything snaps into focus for Kinn.
There’s tear tracks on his face, cum on his hand and Porsche’s too. Not to mention the shirt that Vegas had stripped off Porsche.
“I spilled a drink on it.”
Kinn flushes at being caught staring at the shirt, but raises his eyes to Porsche’s face.
“You can wear mine,” Kinn starts to offer, but Porsche shakes his head.
“If we walk out of here with me in your shirt, there are going to be a lot of questions,” Porsche grins as he says and wiggles his eyebrows, “but thank you. The spill wasn’t big and it won’t take long to dry. There’s more important things to clean up.”
He looks down at his belly, then back up at Kinn and before Kinn knows it, they’re kissing again.
Kinn has the presence of mind to use his clean hand to fist Porsche’s hair as he tries to pour all of what he’s feeling into the kiss.
I’m sorry for what I said.
I love you too.
I never want to stop touching you.
From the way that Porsche is smiling when they break apart, Kinn thinks he might have understood.
“Alright,” Kinn practically croaks, “let’s clean up.”
Kinn splashes water on his face, but watches in fascination as Porsche wipes his belly. It’s far more sensual than it has any right to be, considering what just happened and where they are, but as Kinn observes, all he can do is want.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Porsche warns, “or it’s going to become very obvious what’s happening in here.”
“Oh?” Kinn raises a brow as he begins to clean himself up. “Why’s that?”
It’s easy to flirt with Porsche and Kinn resolves to do it far more often from now on.
“Because we both need more, but I’d really rather that more happen in your bed,” Porsche says, matter of fact as he closes his pants again like he hasn’t just told Kinn that they’re going to go home and fuck.
Kinn wants to get his lips on every bit of Porsche’s skin, wants to feel Porsche’s mouth on his cock.
Wants to finger Porsche until he’s begging for Kinn to make him come.
There’s so much to do together, so much to introduce Porsche to.
Porsche’s fingers on his chin nearly startle Kinn into jerking back, but the touch is already familiar.
“I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but I can already imagine,” Porsche murmurs, rubbing Kinn’s chin before leaning in to kiss it.
He pulls away before Kinn can guide him into a real kiss, yanking his t-shirt on roughly.
“Wait,” Kinn says before Porsche can step towards the door. “What you said earlier, me too.”
Porsche doesn’t ask for clarification, just reaches out to take Kinn’s hand in his and squeezes.
“You can say it for real when we’re not in this bathroom,” Porsche teases before letting go.
Porsche is the first out the door, so by the time that Kinn is following up the steps, everyone has snapped to attention.
“We’re leaving,” Kinn informs them.
No one says a thing.
“Porsche can drive me home,” Kinn says when Pete starts moving towards the car.
He catches the exchange of glances between the two and can’t be sure if the sour feeling in his belly is shame that Pete might think Kinn has hurt Porsche, anger at the same thing, or the remnants of guilt from what he’d said to Porsche.
You’re way more loose than I thought.
“You good to drive, man?” Pete says quietly, like Kinn’s not supposed to hear.
Porsche pats Pete on the shoulder.
“I’m fine. I didn’t drink as much as I made it look like,” he replies. “I’m good. Me and Khun Kinn will make it home in one piece.”
If Pete feels any uncertainty over Porsche’s assurance, it doesn’t matter, because Porsche snatches the key from Pete’s hand and heads for the driver’s side.
Kinn opens the passenger’s door himself and slides in without a word.
What he says, what he does — it isn’t up for debate. If they want to try to reason out his decisions, they can do so silently and on their own time.
He shuts the door behind himself and says, “Drive.”
Porsche doesn’t say anything until they’re through the gates of the minor family’s house.
“We did it, you know,” Porsche starts to tap his fingers on the steering wheel, “took care of the Italians.”
Kinn turns to look at him. He’s proud of himself, as he should be.
“I do know,” Kinn says as he studies Porsche’s profile. He wants to lean over the space between their seats and kiss Porsche’s jaw, wants to put a hand on Porsche’s cock.
Kinn could reach over and unbuckle Porsche’s pants again and suck him off, right here.
“You should have seen me!” Porsche takes a turn a little faster than legally advisable. “Vegas opened the doors and bam, it was over for them before they even knew it.”
Kinn could say that he’s relieved. Could say he’s proud of Porsche.
He listens instead as Porsche describes what had happened in the warehouse.
“I’ll admit, Vegas saved my ass,” Porsche says at one point, “kinda tackled me down, but —“
Tired of hearing his cousin’s name, Kinn sets his hand on Porsche’s thigh.
Porsche instantly stops talking.
“Did you take care of my gun for me?” Kinn asks, rubbing back and forth lightly.
“Yes.”
“Is it ready to be returned to me?” Kinn moves his hand higher.
Porsche’s hands clutch the wheel.
“I’ll clean it,” he answers, “and get more ammo, then I’ll give it back.”
“Did you use it all up?” Kinn wonders. “Or is there still something left?”
He feels Porsche shiver.
“Kinn, we’re almost back. Then we can go to your room and you can fuck me in your bed for once.”
Laughing, Kinn takes his hand away.
“I am looking forward to that,” he admits.
He is.
Lying in that hospital bed, there had been plenty of time for imagining what Porsche will look like when Kinn actually has time to take him apart.
Slowly.
Methodically.
“Well if you want that to happen,” Porsche flicks the turn signal, “we need to survive this drive.”
“Fine then, tell me more about your adventures today,” Kinn suggests.
He’s had a briefing, but he wants to hear it from Porsche’s point of view.
Porsche does so with gusto, moving his hands as he recalls what it was like sitting in the back of the truck waiting for Vegas to open the door.
It should sober Kinn, hearing about how much danger Porsche was in today, but he’s familiar with what it’s like to come through something like that not just alive, but victorious. The adrenaline is glorious and afterwards, there’s nothing like a vigorous fuck.
His cock twitches at the thought. He ought to have told Porsche to come right back to the compound, right to his bed where they could have started to work on dissipating that energy.
Maybe then he wouldn’t have fucked up and accused Porsche of being a slut.
There it is again, guilt.
It’s an old friend, but he finds that it’s not one he wants to linger with Porsche.
Kinn wants it to be different.
Needs it to be different.
He forces himself back into the present in time to hear Porsche say, “Nobody told me that it would get you that jazzed. I mean, I knew how I felt after the fights, but this is like ten times that.”
“It’s the adrenaline,” Kinn explains. “The relief you made it. The pride of success.”
“Whatever it is,” Porsche replies, “I felt like I was going to just burst out of my skin. When we got back to the minor family house, I ran laps.”
Kinn has to laugh at that and he wonders how everyone else had reacted to the sight of Porsche running around the house until he was grounded enough to stand still.
“The party helped,” Porsche admits.
Nodding, Kinn taps his fingers on his thigh.
“We usually host something similar whenever we’ve dealt with something big,” he explains.
He doesn’t mention that those also tend to come hand in hand with mourning. When the major family fights, it’s only in the most serious occasions and it’s rare for everyone to make it out alive.
The whole time, duty looms in the knowledge that the next day will be full of notifying family of their loss, setting up accounts and jobs for those who have survived, but won’t ever be in shape to fight again.
“When I first met him, I can’t say that I ever thought I’d see Arm dance,” Porsche draws Kinn back with a laugh, “but it turns out all you need to do is put a drink in his hand and play some music and he’s ready to go.”
Kinn’s lips twitch at the memory of Arm at Hum Bar pouring beer down his chest.
“I can’t say that I ever thought he’d be that much of a dancer either,” Kinn admits. “I knew he had a sense of humour, you have to in order to work with my brother as long as he has.”
Or be Pol, who let things roll over him like water off a duck. For his faults, Pol knew how to adapt to anything on the fly, which was the other key to working with Tankhun.
“I’m beginning to think that he might have a secret past as a stripper,” Porsche jokes.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss my employee’s previous employment,” he tells Porsche as seriously as he can.
It works, because Porsche practically gasps as he whips his head around to look at Kinn only to scowl when Kinn starts laughing.
“Ass,” Porsche mutters, turning into the driveway, but heading right to the garage rather than dropping Kinn off as protocol normally dictates.
“We’ll go up the back,” Porsche says before Kinn can invite him upstairs. “There’s cameras, but no guards.”
“Seems like a flaw,” Kinn mutters, earning himself a jab in the side.
“It’s your security, dipshit,” Porsche replies. “Besides, if the guards hadn’t recognized the car, we would already be full of holes.”
He’s far too cheerful as he says it, good mood still in effect.
Porsche practically bounces out of the car and Kinn follows at a more sedate pace, wondering if this is what Porsche is like whenever he isn’t forced into a bodyguard’s suit.
He can remember Porsche in the parking lot and on the boat, all his limbs in motion even when standing in one place. It was impressive.
Everything about Porsche is impressive.
The service elevator is empty and Kinn’s passcode means that it won’t stop until his floor, but he isn’t expecting it when Porsche crowds him into the blind spot beneath the camera.
“Hi,” Porsche whispers.
Kinn smiles.
“Hi,” he replies at a normal volume. “There’s no mics.”
“You never know with you Theerapanyakuls,” Porsche says, still whispering.
Porsche is a warm weight against Kinn and Kinn tries to think if there’s ever been a time that he’s felt comfortable being pinned by someone, trapped by them, like he does with Porsche.
He feels no need to get free or to reverse their positions.
Instead, it feels nice. Warm.
When the door slides open silently, Porsche nearly hops backwards with a wink.
Kinn watches Porsche lead the way to his suite, eyes dropping to Porsche’s perky ass.
“I can feel you staring,” Porsche says over his shoulder as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “See something you like?”
“Maybe,” Kinn teases.
Porsche is brazen as ever, opening the door to Kinn’s room without hesitation and stepping inside like he belongs there.
He does.
As far as Kinn is concerned, Porsche belongs in this room with him.
It should be where Porsche spends his days and nights, where he returns to when —
Kinn’s train of thought is interrupted the second that he crosses the threshold by Porsche grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him into the wall.
In the same breath, Porsche kisses him.
When one has spent their whole life operating on the principle that one does not let any attack go unpunished, it’s necessary to develop certain reflexes.
In this case, Kinn’s is to grab Porsche’s hair and tug.
Porsche just whines, dropping his hands to Kinn’s thighs and hoisting Kinn up like it’s nothing.
Outside of fights, no one has lifted Kinn up in years and those lifts had very little resemblance to this one, which involves a fully grown man in between his legs, grinding against him in rhythm with their tongues.
There is a decent chance that Kinn is going to implode.
“Porsche,” he breaks away to moan, “Porsche, bed.”
“Uh huh,” Porsche agrees, kissing down Kinn’s neck while making absolutely no move towards the bedroom, so Kinn yanks his hair again.
This time, the moan isn’t muffled by Kinn’s mouth and he sees the way that Porsche’s eyes flutter.
“Sorry,” Porsche says as he raises his head, letting go of Kinn’s thighs with a sheepish smile. “Habit?”
Kinn gives him a look, then grabs his ass and begins to back him up in the direction of Kinn’s bedroom.
“You’re the one who brought up beds first,” Kinn says. “Hardly seems right that I need to be the one who makes sure we get there.”
Porsche’s expression of innocence is a well practiced one, no doubt born from years of using it on teachers and older women at the market.
It says, Who, me? in an almost saccharine way. Sweet enough to give Kinn a toothache.
So Kinn lets go of him and shoves.
Porsche is coordinated enough not to fall, but he does stumble a little, eyes going wide as Kinn begins to unbutton his shirt.
Kinn advances and Porsche continues to retreat, licking his lips when Kinn shrugs off the shirt, dropping it to the ground to deal with later.
Finally inside the bedroom, Porsche comes to a stop beside the bed, but makes no move to begin undressing.
“I don’t allow outdoor clothes on the bed,” Kinn says, undoing his belt.
Porsche just snorts.
“Yes, you do. Are you forgetting that I saw you almost getting your dick sucked right here?” Porsche jerks his head towards the bed, eyes fixed on Kinn’s hands.
Despite how tempted he is to draw things out, Kinn is far more interested in moving things along to their natural end, so he shoves down his pants and underwear in one go.
“I hadn’t worn those out of the house,” Kinn retorts, “much less to a party at the minor family’s house, leaning against a fucking bathroom vanity and —“
Porsche kisses him, reaching down to fist his cock at the same time.
“Do you ever shut up?” Porsche asks.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Kinn can’t help but retort. “Never stop running your fucking mouth.”
In a fit of spite, Kinn grasps Porsche’s t-shirt at the neck and rips.
“Kinn!” Porsche yelps. “That was new!”
“I never want to see it again,” Kinn informs him, ripping the shirt all the way down the front as Porsche stares at him in disbelief. “My cousin had his hands all over you in that shirt.”
“You had your hands all over me.”
Throwing the shirt in the vague direction of the garbage can, Kinn smiles innocently.
“You weren’t wearing it then. You were wearing these,” he concedes as he undoes Porsche’s pants for the second time that night, “so they can live.”
“You’re buying me a new shirt,” Porsche says.
“I’ll buy you hundreds,” Kinn promises him. “Anything you want.”
“Prada?” Porsche asks.
“Sure,” Kinn says in between kisses.
“Dior?”
Kinn makes a face without meaning to.
“What?” Porsche demands, pulling back. “Isn’t that a fancy brand?”
“It’s an expensive one,” Kinn allows. “But their direction over the past few years has been —“
He breaks off with a moan when Porsche grabs his cock and starts to stroke.
“If you can have coherent thoughts about fashion,” Porsche says into his ear, “then I don’t think that we’re moving this in the right direction.”
Nodding, Kinn draws Porsche’s mouth back to his only to get shoved backwards onto the bed.
With a chuckle, Kinn moves up until his head is resting on a pillow as he watches Porsche finish undressing.
It occurs to Kinn that so much of their relationship has been imbued with violence, anger, the loss of judgement.
This is the first time that they’re going to have sex in Kinn’s bed, the first time that there’s going to be proper lube and condoms.
Neither of them is apologizing now.
He’s not apologizing now.
Something that’s been lingering in his thoughts ever since he woke up in that hospital bed bubbles up.
This is someone I can trust, someone who will take care of me.
Kinn is used to getting what he wants without needing to ask, but this is something he’s going to need to be explicit about.
Swallowing back the instinct inside of himself that fights against anything that might be seen as vulnerability, the one ground into him by the violent world he inhabits, he asks Porsche for what he wants.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Porsche falls over.
“What?” he asks, sitting up, one leg still in his pants with a wild look in his eye. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Kinn says.
Porsche curses and Kinn hears rustling, followed by a thump and Porsche climbing onto the bed to hover over him on all fours.
“You’re kidding right?” Porsche asks, eyes locked on him.
“What, do you need me to show you where it goes?” Kinn taunts, spreading his legs ever so slightly. “I thought you’d be able to figure that part out.”
“Kinn,” Porsche frowns, “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Kinn reaches up to cradle the back of Porsche’s neck. “I want you to fuck me.”
“When’s the last time that you did that?” Porsche asks, not moving.
“Never,” Kinn admits, watching Porsche’s eyes widen. Before Porsche can say anything, he asks, “Before that night, when was the last time that someone had fucked you?”
Porsche’s expression is complex.
“Kinn, I don’t want you to offer because you think that you’re atoning for —“
“Atoning?” Kinn interrupts. “I thought you’d forgiven me already.”
“I have.”
Kinn strokes the soft little hairs at the base of Porsche’s skull. He’s due for a haircut soon, but the idea of him with longer hair intrigues Kinn enough that he considers asking Porsche to grow it out.
“I’m not saying it because I’m trying to make up for something,” Kinn says softly, maintaining eye contact. “I’m saying it because I want it. I just — I haven’t found someone I could trust before.”
He’d considered offering once before, to someone else, but Tawan’s conception of how their dynamics should be had been fixed.
“If you don’t want to —“
“No,” Porsche says, “I do. I just want to be sure that you do too.”
There’s genuine care in his voice, enough that Kinn pulls him down for a kiss because how could he not?
“Besides,” Kinn says when they break apart, “it’s not like I’ve never had anything in my ass.”
Porsche’s wide eyed expression comes back.
“What?” he demands and Kinn can’t resist teasing him.
“Show me what you can do and maybe I’ll show you,” Kinn offers.
“Yeah, okay,” Porsche agrees, nodding, “I can do that. I’ll give you the Porsche Experience.”
Kinn scowls, gripping Porsche by the back of his neck like a naughty kitten.
“Are you fucking me against a wall in the back of a bar?” Kinn asks.
Shaking his head as best as he can, Porsche looks like he’s enjoying the grip that Kinn has on him a great deal.
To test that, Kinn squeezes a little tighter.
Porsche gasps.
“No, you aren’t,” Kinn goes on like nothing’s happened, “so it’s going to be something different.”
Porsche drops his gaze, but nods once.
“I have had sex on beds, you know,” he mumbles when Kinn lets go. “And couches and the floor and a table and —“
He stops at Kinn’s raised brow, mouth shutting with a click of his teeth.
“Very impressive,” Kinn drawls as he gestures to a bag on the nightstand. “Put those hands of yours to good use and get me wet.”
Porsche swallows, doing as in instructed and fuck, Kinn is going to explore that some other time. There’s so much to learn about Porsche and just as much for Porsche to learn about him.
Despite that, Kinn doesn’t feel rushed.
“How do you want to do this?” Porsche asks as he upends the bag on the bed rather than just taking out what he needs. “Back, hands and knees —“
“We’ll start like this,” Kinn tells him, “see where the night takes us.”
That answer gets him a laugh, then a quick peck on the tip of his nose.
“Ridiculous,” Porsche mutters, pouring lube into his hand.
“Fuck, Porsche,” Kinn snorts, “planning to stick your entire fist in me?”
Porsche seems to choke on his own breath at that. Thankfully, he also sets the lube down before he can dispense all of it.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Porsche says, spreading the lube between his fingers.
“And you won’t,” Kinn promises. “I won’t let you.”
That seems to reassure Porsche enough to line up the tip of one finger against Kinn’s ass. At first, he just wiggles it back and forth at little, not even really exerting any pressure.
“You know,” Kinn teases, “you’re supposed to put it inside of me.”
“I know that,” Porsche says with a glare. “Have you considered that maybe I’m going slow?”
“You don’t need to.”
Porsche sits back on his heels.
“I want to,” he says and Kinn stills.
It’s easy to forget that Porsche, for all his sexual experiences, has had very few opportunities in his life for intimacy.
“Okay,” Kinn replies, cupping the back of Porsche’s neck once more. “Okay.”
His agreement gets him a happy little noise from Porsche.
The finger stays a tease though, just rubbing back and forth, then circling.
It feels far better than Kinn might have thought it would, just kind of lighting up nerve endings that Kinn has never even thought about before.
He hums, widening his legs a little more to give Porsche more space.
“There’s so much I wanna try.”
Kinn looks up at Porsche.
“Huh?”
Porsche gives a sheepish little smile, biting his lip.
“I may have researched a little bit,” he admits. “Since I don’t know a lot of stuff about gay sex.”
“I hope you know not to trust everything you see on the internet,” Kinn says.
Porsche widens his eyes in faux surprise.
“You mean you can’t just shove two dicks in your ass and have a good time?” he asks.
“Fuck,” Kinn snorts, “no, you cannot. That’s advanced.”
“Advanced?” Porsche begins to press a little harder over Kinn’s hole, though he continues his broader motions as well. “I’ll have you know that I almost graduated university. I’m a fast learner.”
It’s so ridiculous that Kinn has to cover his face as he shakes with laughter.
“Are you laughing at me?” Porsche leans down to bite at his nipple.
Kinn gasps, only for the sound to die off when Porsche pushes his finger in to the second knuckle.
“I would never,” Kinn says when he’s regained his breath.
Porsche licks at his nipple, then blows over it.
“Liar,” Porsche mutters before biting even as his other hand comes up to squeeze Kinn’s pec.
“They’re not tits, Porsche,” Kinn half-teases.
It immediately backfires.
“I dunno about that,” Porsche lifts his head to say, sinking his finger all the way in. “They’re bigger than some of the tits on the women I’ve fucked.”
He flicks Kinn the same way that he had in the bathroom, though this time, Kinn doesn’t stop him or try to grab his hand.
“What do you want to try?” Kinn asks to distract him.
Porsche grins.
“I want to know what it feels like to have you eat me out.”
“Yes,” Kinn agrees. “Fuck, absolutely.”
“You like that?” Porsche has started to move his finger in and out slowly, shifting the angle that it’s entering Kinn.
“I bet I can make you cry,” Kinn says. “I bet you’ll love it so much that you’ll do anything you can to get my tongue on your ass.”
“You’re forgetting,” Porsche takes a different strategy with his second finger and feeds Kinn the whole length all at once, “that I’m pretty sure you’ll do anything to be able to put your cock in my ass. I bet you want my mouth too.”
He does. He very much does.
“Want to shut me up with your big cock?” Porsche asks, moving both of his fingers.
He certainly doesn’t want to right now, not while Porsche is saying things like that.
From the way that Porsche is wiggling his fingers, Kinn can only assume that he’s hunting for Kinn’s prostate, growing more focused by the minute.
“Not that deep,” Kinn says, causing Porsche to flick his gaze upwards for a beat. “What you’re looking for, it’s not that deep.”
What he isn’t expecting is for Porsche to move those long fingers exactly right.
“You mean that?” Porsche asks when Kinn moans. “I was going to go into sports medicine, Kinn, I know human anatomy.”
“Do you?” Kinn gasps as Porsche just keeps fucking rubbing and nudging against his prostate.
“Uh huh,” Porsche says, pressing firmly, “I know all about the human body.”
He stops taunting Kinn and goes back to wiggling his fingers around.
“You can fuck me now,” Kinn says.
Porsche’s sureness falters a little.
Kinn hadn’t bothered with this part for long when he’d fucked Porsche.
“Can give me your cock, just like you want to,” Kinn invites, grabbing behind one of his knees.
But Porsche just keeps fingering him.
“Porsche,” he says.
“I know,” Porsche murmurs, “but just let me, okay?”
Kinn forces himself to relax his grip on his leg. He’s starting to feel overwhelmed, a little too —
Something.
“Please,” he says. “You’re not gonna hurt me.”
Porsche scissors his fingers.
“You sure?” Porsche asks and Kinn grabs his face.
If Porsche needs reassurance, Kinn will give it to him over and over and over.
“I’m sure,” he strokes Porsche’s cheeks. “Wanna feel you.”
It’s fascinating to watch the war between Porsche’s natural confidence and his inexperience in this particular situation play out across his face.
As expected though, the confidence wins.
Or maybe it’s more than that.
Trust that Kinn is telling him the truth, not just what he wants to hear.
Porsche pulls his fingers free, wiping them on the sheet and Kinn is going to have to scold him for that later.
But for now, he’s entranced by the way that Porsche’s face is set in concentration as he opens the condom and rolls it down.
There’s no more games now as Porsche settles in between Kinn’s spread thighs to line up the tip of his cock to Kinn’s hole.
Kinn hadn’t lied before, he has had things in his ass before, but it hasn’t felt quite like this.
Just the slight pressure of Porsche against his rim is enough to have his breathing pick up. He wants it so badly that he’s not even sure he can ask Porsche to just fucking stick it in already.
He’s certainly heard the phrase gagging for cock before, it’s just never been him on this side of things, desperate to get something inside of himself.
If Porsche was a toy, Kinn would have pushed him in already, started using him in all the right places, but he’s not a toy.
It might be the not knowing that makes it worse, better, Kinn can’t decide, doesn’t know how to handle it.
“Please,” he gasps out.
Porsche’s cock is slimmer than Kinn’s, but thicker than the toys that Kinn has used before, so it’s more of a stretch to accommodate it inside of himself.
As he opens up around the tip, Kinn’s mouth falls open.
“Oh fuck,” Kinn moans, grabbing onto Porsche’s arm when the tip is all the way in.
“Do you need me to stop?” Porsche asks, moving to withdraw.
“If you stop, I will fucking kill you,” Kinn snaps.
It feels better than Kinn could have imagined, having someone — having Porsche — inside of him, opening him up.
He’d enjoyed it in the past when he’d fingered himself and used toys, but this isn’t the same.
He was right when he thought that it might be the not knowing that heightened everything.
Doesn’t know when Porsche will move, what angle Porsche will push inside, doesn’t know when a roll of Porsche’s hips will hit just right.
As Porsche continues to press deeper, just a little at a time, Kinn realizes that this is going to be over far too fast.
It’s like he can feel every single damn molecule of Porsche passing over his sensitive nerve endings.
And it’s warm, so much warmer.
“Porsche,” he gasps, sliding his hand up to Porsche’s shoulder, “Porsche —”
He breaks off when Porsche bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against Kinn’s ass, and pants up at the ceiling.
“Oh,” Porsche moans, rocking his hips a little, but not pulling away, “oh fuck, Kinn. You feel so good.”
The compliment makes it worse and Kinn feels like he’s going to twitch out of his skin.
“Does it feel good?” Porsche asks, stilling. “Kinn? Do you need me to pull out?”
Kinn shakes his head, not sure that he’s going to make any sound other than a moan if he opens his mouth.
“It doesn’t feel good?” Porsche misinterprets his response with a hint of despair and starts to pull out.
And that is not what Kinn wants at all, so he wraps his legs around Porsche’s waist and holds him in place.
“Don’t,” he gasps, drawing Porsche back in and whimpering as Porsche’s cock pushes back in.
He needs to touch his cock, so he reaches down to squeeze himself.
Porsche goes to pull out again and Kinn growls, tightening his hold and clenching without really intending to.
“Kinn?” Porsche groans, fucking him shallowly. “Gotta loosen up if you want me to fuck you, gotta let me go.”
It’s too much.
Kinn comes.
If he were capable of shame at this moment, he’d be embarrassed by the noise that he makes as he starts to cover his belly and fist with cum.
“Kinn.”
Porsche is staring down at him in shock, but hasn’t stopped moving, thank fuck.
Kinn moans, still jerking himself off even though there’s nothing left to come out.
“That was the hottest fucking thing that I’ve ever seen,” Porsche says, slowing his thrusts.
Annoyed by the slightly smug look on Porsche’s face, Kinn yanks him down into a kiss and digs a heel into his ass.
“Want you to come too,” Kinn pants into Porsche’s mouth, “want to feel you.”
Porsche laughs, even as he starts to move with purpose.
“I’m wearing a condom,” he replies.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be,” Kinn says, meaning it with every fibre of his being.
“Would you let me do that?” Porsche asks. “Let me fill you up until you’re sloppy?”
“Yeah,” Kinn moans at the idea, “I would.”
Porsche’s grin is one of the blinding ones that make Kinn feel like his heart might explode.
“Gonna hold you to that,” Porsche says, picking up the pace. “It feels so weird, having cum drip out of you, but it feels good too.”
Kinn shivers at the reminder that they’d fucked bare last time. He’d made a mess of Porsche’s hole, then fingered it back in until Porsche came again.
He’s starting to feel a little oversensitive as Porsche’s cock moves inside of him.
“One day, when you’re dripping with my cum, I’ll give you a plug and you can walk around out there trying not to make it obvious how fucking full you are,” Kinn suggests.
Threatens.
Promises.
“Yeah,” Porsche gasps. “Want that.”
“One day, I want you to just lie there while I jerk off on you. Want to leave you in this bed with nothing on but my marks.”
Porsche’s frantic nod and the increased force of his thrusts tell Kinn he won’t last much longer.
Kinn thinks this could get him hard again, even without another touch to his cock.
Could he come just from getting fucked?
Kinn is filled with a yawning curiosity, a need to know everything about how they fit together.
“Maybe one day,” Kinn grabs Porsche’s ass, “we’ll go to a meeting, both of us still full of each other.”
There’s a wordless cry as Porsche shoves in once more, panting.
He watches Porsche’s face, just like he had earlier.
This time, Porsche is more open with his pleasure, though there’s still something restrained about it that Kinn wants to shatter completely. Wants to hear Porsche make all kinds of noises, wants to know what it will sound and look like when he really lets go.
Lifting his head, Kinn nips Porsche’s bottom lip to draw him into a kiss.
“Kinn,” Porsche sighs when he’s finished. “Kinn.”
There’s nothing to say to that, so Kinn just hums, stroking up and down along Porsche’s spine until Porsche pulls out to take care of the condom.
Kinn watches him walk to the bathroom on legs that would put Bambi’s to shame.
There’s the sound of running water and when he comes back, he’s got a cloth that he uses to haphazardly wipe at Kinn’s belly.
With a snort, Kinn takes the cloth and does it himself.
Porsche sprawls out beside Kinn with a groan.
“Verdict?”
“Huh?” Kinn tosses the cloth away to deal with later.
“Good enough for a repeat one day?” Porsche asks, breathless and bright eyed.
Turning onto his side, Kinn grins in response, setting a hand on Porsche’s cheek.
“Yeah, it was.”
Porsche does a little shimmy that’s so unbelievably adorable that Kinn wants to fuck him all over again.
But it’s been a long day for both of them and Porsche looks like he’s finally shed the last of his residual energy, eyelids drooping slightly.
Porsche leans in for a kiss.
“Will you fuck me tomorrow?” he asks.
Kinn nods.
“Kay good,” Porsche says, “because I definitely wanna explore that more. One of the websites was saying that —”
Not wanting to hear whatever nonsense Porsche had read, Kinn surges forward to kiss him, rolling him to his back.
Porsche goes with it, his hands roaming over Kinn’s shoulders and back.
“I think we should probably shower,” Porsche says when Kinn decides he’s probably derailed Porsche’s earlier train of thought. “I’m pretty sure I still have champagne on me and you’ve got stuff all over you.”
“Stuff?” Kinn repeats. “Are you calling cum stuff?”
“No,” Porsche flicks his nose, “I was including the lube in the stuff.”
“Good, because I refuse to be fucking a guy who refuses to say cum.”
Kinn pushes himself up out of bed and stretches. There’s an ache, but one that feels perfect.
Until Porsche smacks him on the ass and races past him towards the bathroom.
“Last one in the shower loses!”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Kinn walks to the bathroom leisurely.
His life, he knows, is changing and shifting under his feet.
But for all Porsche’s bluster and bravado, Kinn knows him to be solid and unmoving when push comes to shove.
Perhaps, just this once, life has given Kinn something — someone — to anchor him.