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They’re aggressive with each other in a way they haven’t been before. Kinn knows it’s in both of their natures, hidden just beneath the surface, both of them burning bright and fast, desire an ever-present thing. Desire for blood, desire for vengeance, desire for justice, desire for each other.
Desperate hands tear at clothes, buttons flying everywhere as they stumble into Kinn’s bedroom. He can tell Porsche hasn’t quite forgiven him yet for locking him up, from the way he bites into Kinn’s neck, letting his teeth sink deeper than ever before and pulling roughly at the skin just above Kinn’s jugular. Kinn hisses in pain but the sensation sends sparks down his spine, settling low in his gut, makes him rut his rock-hard erection against Porsche’s thigh like a wild animal.
He grabs onto the back of Porsche’s head and yanks roughly to slot their lips together again, the fit of their mouths so effortless, so perfect, as if they were made for kissing each other and each other only. Porsche’s lips are soft and pliant, his tongue like silk as it glides along Kinn’s in a seamless and rehearsed dance. Porsche nibbles at Kinn’s bottom lip, sinking his teeth into its fullness and tugging, painfully, showing Kinn that he’s still dancing on the edge of fury.
They’re really good at kissing, Kinn thinks and lets his lip be pulled and bitten into. They’re good at everything, together. Well, maybe except for communicating properly.
Porsche might be furious with Kinn for the way he handled things with Tawan, but Kinn is angry, too. There’s still a seed of jealousy in Kinn’s gut, the fear that Porsche left with Vegas not out of convenience but out of desire. Vegas would jump at the chance to fuck Porsche - frankly, who wouldn’t, Kinn thinks as he slips his hands beneath Porsche’s waistband and squeezes his firm ass cheeks hard, hard enough to draw a yelp from Porsche’s kiss-swollen lips - but the question still haunts Kinn… would Porsche fuck Vegas?
“Huh?” Porsche pulls back from their filthy kisses, a stricken look on his face.
Kinn hadn’t realized he’d voiced his thoughts. He swallows hard, tightens his arms around Porsche’s waist, uses his grip on Porsche’s ass to align their hips once more. He holds Porsche in a death grip as he repeats his question, because hell, he’s not letting Porsche go but he wants to know. He needs to know. “Would you fuck him?”
Porsche looks about ready to slap him, the same fire burning in his eyes that Kinn had seen the night they’d jerked each other off in the bathroom in the minor family’s sleazy bar. Kinn thinks for a brief moment that he’d be into that, his cock twitching against the zipper of his pants at the thought of them getting a little rough, or rougher, with each other.
“Is that what you’re afraid of? Is that why you think I left with him?” Porsche asks, pulling back further as Kinn attempts to close the distance, to steal kisses in between this loaded conversation that he knows could end with Porsche leaving his rooms, maybe leaving him. He doesn’t want to push, but there’s something about Porsche’s anger, his indignation that… turns Kinn on. Makes him think that Porsche is possessive of him, too.
“Is it?” Kinn snaps, a littler harsher than he intends. His mouth is drawn in a tight line; he can feel it, the way his features settle into anger, anger that’s misplaced at Porsche but Kinn doesn’t know where else to direct it. He could direct it at Vegas but that would only end in bloody knuckles and more tension between the two families than there already is. He knows he shouldn’t be testing Porsche’s limits, but he wants to see how far he can push him. Test if the feelings that have bloomed between them will still be there when Kinn inevitably fucks up again. Test if Porsche feels as unconditionally about Kinn as Kinn feels about Porsche.
It’s not rational. It’s love, and love is rarely rational.
“You are a crazy person,” Porsche struggles in his grasp, attempting to break free. “No matter what I do, you never trust me.”
Kinn holds him tighter, backing him up against the wall behind him. He lets his eyes roam all over Porsche. Porsche is already littered with love marks in the shape of Kinn’s mouth, his neck and chest adorned with red and purple bruises, and Kinn knows he looks just as bad, if not worse. “Tell me you care about me.” He places his hands on either side of Porsche’s head, his voice breaking as he adds an anguished, “Please.”
“Kinn.” Porsche makes a show of sighing and rolling his eyes, but the fight has already left his body. His cock is also still hard between his legs, pressing against Kinn’s hip insistently. “I care about you.”
Kinn nudges his nose against Porsche’s, their breaths intermingling in the tiny space between them. “Tell me you want me.” His voice fans over Porsche’s lips in a phantom kiss.
Porsche swallows hard, his voice thick with desire when he speaks, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
And that’s the gist of it. Kinn needs to remind himself that, to Porsche, Kinn is not just a quick fuck behind Yok’s bar. Porsche identified as straight just a few months ago. To him, Kinn is special. The first man he’s ever been with, the first person he’s ever fucked more than once, maybe the first person he’s ever had feelings for.
Kinn has fucked more than his share of men, sometimes more than once, but never with any feelings attached. Not since Tawan. Tawan, who he’d just let into his house, their house, letting him kidnap Chay and capture Porsche just beneath his nose.
Where do I start? You letting your ex into the house? Or you, locking me up?
Kinn has failed Porsche, immeasurably. Again. His knee-jerk reaction is always to defend himself, to make his father the scapegoat, to explain that he’s just following orders, that he was planning on telling Porsche about Tawan’s plan if only Porsche had shown patience, that he has to make a show of punishing bodyguards who fail at displaying undying loyalty.
But he doesn’t want to be that person anymore. He wants to be better for Porsche. He doesn’t want to treat Porsche the way he treats the other bodyguards.
It occurs to him then that they need to announce that they’re together. They need to tell his father that they’re a couple. He doesn’t know what consequences it’ll have for Porsche and his job, but Kinn doesn’t care. He’ll take care of him. He’ll take care of Chay. If Porsche wants to open a beach bar, Kinn will fell the wood to build the shack, he’ll drive the poles into the sand to anchor the structure, he’ll fucking hang fairy lights all around the facade to attract customers in the night.
I love you, he wants to say. It’s just at the tip of his tongue. I love you, I love you so fucking much.
He dips his head forward to rest his forehead against Porsche’s clavicle. “Khor thot,” he whispers instead, his damp breath leaving the taut skin of Porsche’s pec moist and warm. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I care more about appearances than my loyalty to you. He flicks his tongue out to lick the contour of the muscle beneath Porsche’s chest before closing his teeth around a hardened nipple. Porsche gasps and sighs, his back arching almost as if to press his chest further into Kinn’s mouth, to let him consume him.
“How do you want to come?” Kinn murmurs, mouthing further down at Porsche’s ribs, letting his tongue trace his beautiful abs as he moves down to his knees in front of him. “In my mouth? On my face?” Porsche’s breathing comes in quick puffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares slack-jawed down at Kinn. Kinn’s fingers slide down the zipper on Porsche’s pants and pull them down to mid-thigh. He leans in and mouths at the swollen head of Porsche’s cock, straining against the fabric of his underwear. The taste beneath his tongue is salty and bitter, and Porsche whines and twitches when Kinn fits his mouth around the length of him. Kinn gazes up at Porsche with a look he knows is pure seduction as he rasps, “On my cock?”
“Kinn,” Porsche whimpers and tilts his head back, the muscles in his neck straining enticingly.
“Tell me, baby,” Kinn says as he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of Porsche’s underwear and tugs. Porsche’s cock slips free, hard and heavy, desperate for Kinn’s touch. “Talk to me,” Kinn pleads, his voice wrecked from the sight and scent of Porsche’s cock so close to him, beckoning him forward. He closes his lips around the purplish head, tongue-kissing it as if it was Porsche’s mouth. Porsche is so wet already from the generous amount of precome leaking from the slit in steady, pearly drops. Kinn wants to devour him, wants to have the taste of him on his tongue always.
“You’re making it very… ah—“ Porsche moans loud enough for people to hear probably several floors down and grabs onto the back of Kinn’s head, fingers tugging at the thick hair on the nape of his neck. “… difficult to talk.”
Kinn hums around him, swallowing him down and bobbing his head, flattening his tongue and tracing the curve of the vein on the underside all the way to the tip. He has to reach down and palm at himself; he’s so hard and aching it’s bordering on painful. With one hand, he unclasps his pants and reaches inside his underwear to stroke himself. Just a little bit of friction to bring him some relief lest he’ll go absolutely fucking mad with lust.
“You’re cheating,” Porsche manages in between groans, his hand reaching out to clutch at Kinn’s shoulder as if to stop him from touching himself.
Kinn’s hand on himself immediately stills. He grins around Porsche’s cock, a huff of air leaving his nose. He pulls off, slowly and with an obscene pop, planting kisses down the length of Porsche’s cock instead, mouthing at the silky skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he says as he continues to worship Porsche’s length, burying his nose in the curls at the base and breathing in. He exhales shakily, “I’ve never known desperation like this.”
Porsche smiles down at him, softly and with so much affection in his eyes Kinn’s heart clenches in his chest and he thinks he might cry. Porsche pats lovingly at his hair, such a sweet gesture that stands in stark contrast to the hunger they’d otherwise exhibited for each other for the past hour.
“Tell me how you want me,” Kinn repeats, resting his head on Porsche’s thigh and gazing up at him. “Anything you want.” What he doesn’t say is, I’ll do anything to make you forgive me, but it’s right there, between the lines.
Porsche lets out a tremulous breath, the heat returning to his eyes. “I need you inside me,” he says. “Show me I belong to you. Claim me.”
Kinn all but jumps to his feet and snakes his arms around Porsche’s waist, guiding him over to the bed. When the back of Porsche’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, he falls backwards and pulls Kinn down on top of him.
Together, they shed their last bits of clothing until they’re fully naked, grinding against each other, hard cocks sliding together between them, their kisses turning increasingly frantic and sloppy, hands leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on shoulders and thighs.
For a second, Kinn considers just rutting himself to orgasm against Porsche’s cock, he’s that close. With mighty effort, he pulls away to reach into the bedside drawer for lube. As he uncaps the bottle, he glances down at himself, his cock almost comically hard, rising proud and thick from between his legs. Porsche is staring at it too, with the same look he always has when they’re about to fuck - a mix of heat and fear, as if he’s thinking there’s no way Kinn will fit inside him.
Kinn makes quick work of coating two fingers, guiding them between Porsche’s quivering legs. Porsche opens up for him easily; he’s gotten so good at this, at relaxing and exhaling as Kinn pushes past the first ring of muscle with one finger. Kinn is so proud of him.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he says and strokes Porsche’s thigh with his free hand. Porsche’s eyes are scrunched close and there’s a furrow between his brows, but Kinn recognizes by now all his micro expressions of pleasure that flit across his features in between the pain and discomfort.
When Porsche feels adequately loose around his first finger, Kinn adds another. Porsche hisses and squeezes around his fingers, and Kinn thinks he might die if it isn’t his cock being squeezed sooner rather than later. Almost of their own volition, his hips begin instinctively thrusting into nothing, desperate for the warm, tight heat of Porsche.
“Porsche. Oh, Porsche,” he moans, eyes drifting from Porsche’s gorgeous face down his well-defined torso, settling between his legs where Kinn’s fingers are disappearing into him, over and over again, with more and more ease every slide. He crooks his fingers, slowly at first and then faster, making Porsche almost fucking levitate off the bed, his back arching, his cries so guttural and masculine Kinn’s never felt more gay than in this very moment.
“Porsche, I have to…” he groans and withdraws his fingers. He uncaps the lube again and squeezes a dollop into his palm that he uses to coat his cock with. Just stroking himself to spread the lube has him teetering on the edge. “We have to get started. I’m so close, I’m not gonna last very long.” He huffs out a little self-deprecating laugh, almost apologetic, his smile bashful. Porsche grins up at him, his face and chest flushed. He looks ready.
“Come here,” Porsche says and reaches up to wrap his arms around Kinn’s neck, pulling him down so that they’re chest to chest. Kinn’s cock immediately catches on Porsche’s entrance, as if seeking its one true home. Kinn kisses Porsche’s lips, sweetly and gently, before he starts pushing in. They’re breathing each other’s air, mouths open but joined. Porsche is whimpering, small cries of ah-ah-ah as Kinn presses in in increments, carving out a space for himself inch by inch. Porsche is so tight and hot, it punches the air out of Kinn’s lungs with each shallow thrust.
When he reaches the hilt, he stills for just a moment to allow them both to adjust. He kisses Porsche again, filthily this time, his tongue mimicking into Porsche’s mouth what he wants to do with his hips.
“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking the kiss and pressing their foreheads together.
“Okay,” Porsche laughs, a sound of genuine joy.
“Okay,” Kinn echoes with a grin and sits back on his heels. He slots Porsche’s legs over his shoulders and wraps his arms around his thighs. That’ll give him the leverage he needs to fuck Porsche so thoroughly into the mattress he’s not gonna be able to walk for days. That’s what he wants. He wants to ruin Porsche, ruin him for anyone else, ruin any possibility that anyone could ever bring Porsche the pleasure that Kinn can bring him. Porsche said, Claim me. That’s exactly what Kinn will do.
When he fucks, Kinn becomes a beast. He’s aware of this. Porsche has said it. So have men in his past. He becomes almost preternatural, moving so hard and fast his lovers can do nothing but grasp onto the sheets and take it until they come apart beneath him, shooting white ribbons of come all over themselves and making a mess.
But to watch someone like Porsche - who’s still new to having sex with men - take him so well, to watch him angle his hips to get Kinn where he wants him, to watch him spread his legs and cross his ankles behind Kinn’s back to pull him deeper, to watch him take his pleasure and give as good as he gets… it’s beyond gratifying. Porsche is unlike anyone Kinn’s ever been with. Kinn’s been in love before, but never like this. His love for Porsche is all-consuming. It’s making him lose his mind. It’s making him want to neglect his family, his job. He wants to live inside Porsche. He wants to elope with Porsche. Maybe they can open the beach bar together, fuck in the sand every morning before the sun rises and sip drinks side by side every night after closing time.
“You're mine,” he chokes out in between clipped thrusts. “You're mine, Porsche,” he says again, almost unable to stop himself.
“Kinn,” Porsche whines, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye, from pleasure or pain or Kinn’s words. Kinn can tell from the way Porsche has turned quiet and tense that his orgasm is just within reach and that Porsche is chasing it. Kinn reaches between them and curls his fingers in a tight fist around him, the way he knows Porsche likes it. He pulls him off in sync with his sharp, deep thrusts, reaching so deep inside him Kinn is sure Porsche can feel it in his throat.
“K-Kinn…” Porsche gasps, a breathy sound, a warning before he cries out and arches his back and comes all over Kinn’s hand and his own belly, warm and sticky.
“Fuck,” Kinn groans, the sight of Porsche coming sending him stumbling towards the edge. “I’m gonna come.” His thrusts turn erratic, the squelching sounds of their slippery bodies sliding together almost obscene in the otherwise quiet bedroom.
“Come inside me,” Porsche begs, his hands on either side of Kinn’s face, keeping his head in place just above his own. Porsche loves to see Kinn come, has said it many times that he looks beautiful and powerful when he comes. He should see himself, Kinn thinks, truly convinced that there’s not a single world heritage site in the world more beautiful than Porsche coming.
The first few times they fucked, Kinn had to fight the urge to hide his face in Porsche’s neck during his climax, because Porsche insisted that he looked at him. And now, Kinn wants nothing more than to gaze into the eyes of the man he loves as he spills deep inside of him. So he does. His orgasm washes over him in incredible waves of pleasure, over and over, making his body hum from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The almost agonizing buildup that has practically been days in the making was worth it because this feels like the best orgasm Kinn’s ever had. He never breaks eye contact with Porsche, just moans his pleasure directly into Porsche’s mouth.
After, he collapses onto Porsche, who promptly kisses his hair and wraps his entire body around him, arms and legs, like a koala hugging a tree. “You’re forgiven,” he whispers. Kinn laughs into the sweaty skin of Porsche’s neck and plants a kiss there. He lets out a deep sigh of contentment, his softening cock slowly slipping out of Porsche but Kinn is not ready to leave their embrace just yet.
Below him, Porsche inhales sharply as if he wants to say something. He lets out a shaky breath before he says, “I am, you know.”
“Hm?” Kinn hums and pulls back, his hands brushing Porsche’s hair away from his forehead.
Porsche smiles and turns his head to press a kiss into Kinn’s palm. “Yours.”