Chapter Text
The chandeliers dripped light like diamonds from the high ceiling, throwing golden glimmers across gowns, tuxedos, and glittering wine glasses. Kinn Theerapanyakul had been to dozens of these charity events, each one a blur of polite laughter and meaningless chatter. He was used to being the most watched man in the room—people always wanting something from him.
But tonight, he was the one watching.
And he couldn’t stop.
Across the crowd, he saw him—Porsche. The man didn’t even belong in this gilded hall; he looked too raw, too unstudied, and yet impossibly divine. His lips were full, soft-looking, the kind of mouth that seemed made for sin. His eyes, dark and liquid, carried both innocence and danger—like he could destroy Kinn with a single glance and then make him thank him for it.
And that neck. Smooth, long, delicate in contrast to the strength in his frame. Kinn wanted to press his lips there, wanted to taste the pulse that beat just beneath his skin. His gaze kept drifting back, shameless, devouring him piece by piece.
He forced himself to breathe, squared his shoulders, and finally approached.
“You know,” Kinn said, his voice low and smooth, “they should have warned me before letting you in. It’s a little unfair to everyone else here.”
Porsche turned, amused, lips quirking. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re the only thing worth looking at.”
A soft laugh slipped from Porsche, his eyes sparkling. “That’s a terrible line.”
“Maybe,” Kinn conceded, leaning closer, “but it got you to smile at me. So I’d say it worked.”
Porsche tilted his head, studying him. There was no fear, no hesitation—just curiosity. “Bold. But you should know… I’m here as someone’s date tonight.”
Kinn swallowed the sting, masking it with charm. “Lucky him.” His gaze lingered deliberately on Porsche’s lips, then slid to his collarbone, the slow drag of his eyes unmistakable. “But I can’t imagine he deserves your attention as much as I do.”
Porsche’s brows rose, a flicker of heat flashing across his features. “You’re persistent.”
“You have no idea,” Kinn said, almost a growl beneath his breath.
And then time blurred. They drifted into conversation, half-flirting, half-confession. Porsche had a sharp wit that cut through Kinn’s polished lines, teasing him, making him laugh in ways he hadn’t in years. Kinn found himself leaning in, drawn by every word, every shift of Porsche’s mouth, every glint in those intoxicating eyes.
He couldn’t get enough of looking at him. Couldn’t stop himself from memorizing the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his lashes, the way his tongue flicked against his lower lip when he paused to think.
“You stare a lot,” Porsche said suddenly, smirking.
Porsche’s smirk widened. “Distracting, am I?”
“Very.”.
Porsche leaned closer, close enough that Kinn caught a faint trace of his cologne—something warm, almost spicy. “Careful,” Porsche said, his tone playful but his gaze sharp. “Say things like that and you’ll make me believe you.”
Kinn smiled, heat curling in his chest. “Good. I want you to believe me.”
When Porsche’s date finally came to collect him, Kinn’s hand acted before his mind could catch up. He caught Porsche’s wrist, holding him just long enough to make it intimate. His thumb brushed the skin there, light but deliberate.
“Don’t go,” he said softly. “Not yet. Go out with me. One date.”
Porsche hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “No.”
Kinn’s chest tightened, but before the sting could settle, Porsche’s lips curved again—mischief, temptation. “But if you want to see me again, meet me at the bar at the St. Regis. Eleven.”
And then he was gone, leaving Kinn breathless, restless, his hand still tingling from the touch.
⸻
The hotel bar was dim, luxurious, hushed. Kinn had arrived early, already restless with anticipation. He nursed his drink, pretending to look casual while his heart hammered like he was a teenager again. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen.
Maybe he isn’t coming, Kinn thought, bitterness creeping in. Maybe it was just a game to him.
Then he saw him.
Porsche stepped into the room, casual now, but even more devastating. His white shirt hung open down to his navel, teasing smooth skin and the line of muscle beneath. His hair was tousled, lips shining faintly as if he’d just licked them.
Kinn actually felt his throat go dry.
“God,” he whispered under his breath, before he could stop himself.
Porsche slid into the chair opposite him, eyes dancing. “You look like you’ve been waiting.”
“I have,” Kinn admitted, gaze dragging down his exposed chest before snapping back up. “But you were worth it.”
The night stretched before them, full of laughter, sharp teasing, and the kind of silences that buzzed with electricity. Kinn wanted to touch him, wanted to taste him, wanted to ruin him. But when he finally leaned in and murmured, “Come upstairs with me,” Porsche only shook his head, smile soft but firm.
“No. I hate mornings after. Why can’t we just… stay here? Talk. Enjoy the night for what it is?”
Kinn’s hunger warred with something else inside him, something deeper. He could have pressed, but instead, he leaned back, eyes never leaving Porsche’s. “Fine. As long as I get to have you in my sight.”
For a long beat, Porsche just looked at him, something unspoken lingering there.
“What should I call you?” Kinn asked finally.
Porsche’s lips curved into a secretive smile. “Don’t. I don’t want to know your name. And I don’t want you to know mine.”
Kinn blinked, startled. “Why?”
“Because tonight isn’t about who we are. It’s about this—” Porsche gestured lightly between them, eyes glittering. “A perfect night. One we’ll both remember. No names. No strings. Just… us.”
Kinn’s heart gave a strange, unsteady thud. He should’ve been disappointed. Instead, he felt like he’d just been offered something rarer than anything money or power could buy.
And he couldn’t say no.
The bartender slid a fresh glass in front of Porsche, amber liquid catching the light. Kinn ordered it without even asking what he liked—something strong, smooth, meant for someone who looked like sin poured into a human shape.
Porsche lifted the glass, sniffed, then arched a brow. “So you like making decisions for other people?”
Kinn smirked, leaning back in his seat, his arm draped casually over the backrest. “Only when I’m sure I’m right.”
“And if you’re not?” Porsche asked, his voice low, teasing.
“Then I’ll spend the rest of the night convincing you I was.”
Porsche chuckled, shaking his head before taking a slow sip. His lips wrapped around the rim of the glass, and Kinn swore he felt it in his bloodstream. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, not even when Porsche set it down and licked a drop of liquor from the corner of his mouth.
“Staring again,” Porsche said, his tone half amusement, half challenge.
Kinn didn’t bother to deny it. “You make it impossible not to.” His gaze lingered shamelessly, sliding down the open expanse of Porsche’s shirt, the long line of his neck, before locking on his eyes again. “I can’t decide what I want more—your lips, your eyes, or this—” he gestured lazily at Porsche’s throat, “—right here.”
For a second, Porsche’s breath caught, just enough for Kinn to notice. But then he leaned forward, smirk tugging at his mouth. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“Not with you.”
Porsche tilted his head, eyes glinting. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”
“Not tonight,” Kinn said, his tone thick with promise.
The silence between them buzzed, the air warm with tension. Porsche finally broke it with a sly smile. “So tell me—do you flirt with everyone at charity events? Or just the ones who make you lose your breath?”
“Just the ones who look like you,” Kinn answered immediately, no hesitation, no shame.
Porsche sipped his drink again, considering him.“I like the way you look at me. Like I’m the only thing in the room.”
“You are,” Kinn said simply.
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. The noise of the bar faded, the world narrowing to the space between them.
Then Porsche leaned back, smirk sliding back into place. “You know if you keep looking at me like that I might forget this is supposed to be just one night.”
Kinn’s chest tightened. He wanted to say let it be more than that. He wanted to ask for his name, his number, his everything. But instead, he swallowed the ache and smiled, mirroring Porsche’s game.
“Then let’s make this night worth remembering,” he said.
And Porsche raised his glass, eyes glimmering with mischief and something deeper. “To one night, then.”
Their glasses clinked, sharp and final, and yet the way they held each other’s gaze promised anything but an ending.