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The light dances across Porsche's back as he stretches languidly in the early morning sun, rays slipping through the blinds to slide softly along golden skin. Kinn should be used to this by now given that Porsche spends more nights in his bed than out of it, but these mornings, when everything is quiet and easy, still have the ability to stun him.
Porsche isn't asleep, Kinn knows, but neither is he fully awake. He lies content to lounge, loose-limbed and relaxed, as sunbeams rush to halo him, looking to all the world like the gods' favoured child. Kinn watches him sigh softly, burrowing deeper into the pillow he's wrapped around, the muscles on his back rippling enticingly. It’s enough to bring Kinn’s eye to the ink on his back, watching as the movement brings his tattoo to life.
Kinn has always been more entranced by those dark lines on Porche's sunkissed skin than he likes to admit. Nothing in his history would have prepared him for how he feels about the art, after all, he'd always preferred softer, smoother skin. A blank canvas on which he could leave his own marks. Then again, nothing about his history would have, or even could have , prepared him for Porsche.
The house is still silent this early, the overwhelming stillness laying heavy around him, seeping into his skin and melting him to his bed. It saps him of the will to start his day. Instead of the shower he should be taking to prepare for his morning meeting, he reaches out a gun-callused fingertip to trail along the lines of the Phoenix, soaking in the intoxicating warmth of Porsche's skin as it lights up his nerve endings.
Porsche moans happily, clearly pleased at the attention, and arches into Kinn's touch.
Kinn can't help the giddy smile that takes over his face at the response, the expression is unfit for an adult much less the head of the Theerapanyakul family, but no one is here to judge him for it. He adds another finger, following the lines that he could probably draw in his sleep at this point, and enjoys the feel of his lover's skin under his hands.
Porsche makes another sound, too breathy to really be a moan, and turns to face him, eyes still closed, the picture of self-indulgence.
"Feels good," he mumbles and Kinn smirks.
They had a long night last night, both before and after they made it to bed, but neither of them has found the secret to not constantly wanting the other. Kinn secretly hopes they never figure it out.
"Yeah?" He replies, just to say something.
"Mmhm," Porsche nods, the movement almost completely lost to his pillow. "You really like it don't you? My tattoo?"
Kinn gives him another indulgent smile. "Looks good on you." He mumbles. "How old were you when you got it?"
Porsche shrugs, the Phoenix shifting and catching the light. "Seventeen, I think?" He replies around a yawn, eyes finally opening. "It wasn't until after I stopped competing in taekwondo. My coaches would have killed me."
Kinn hums. He assumed it had been longer. He sometimes forgets that Porsche is younger than him.
"What made you get it?" He asks, intrigued. He finds he always wants to know more and more about the other man. What makes him tick, what makes him happy or sad, angry or hurt. He wants it all.
Porsche's eyes close again, but this time like he's hiding from a memory, not at all with the same ease as before.
"It was the first time my uncle gambled the mortgage," Porsche whispers, like if he says it softly enough it won't be true anymore.
"I had some money saved for a competition in another province, but… the mortgage had to be paid, Chay needed new shoes for school and the roof in the kitchen had a leak that needed fixing." He sighs, squirming around like he's lost the easy warmth he'd been basking in before.
"I knew about the fighting ring, we all did, but you couldn't take part in it or the coaches would throw you off the team. So I threw myself off the team, won my first fight, used most of my winnings to deal with what needed to be paid and the rest… well I used the rest to get this." He finishes, flexing his shoulder.
Kinn breathes deeply and forces the innate anger at Porsche's Uncle to settle back under his skin. He knew this, even if he didn't know it and the anger doesn't have a place in their bed. Instead, Kinn leans over and trails his lips over soft, bed-warmed skin.
"Did you always know it was going to be the Phoenix?" Kinn mumbles in between the barely there kisses he's leaving along Porsche's tattoo, the pressure almost non-existent, just enough to tease Porsche into making that lovely arch again. Kinn hears Porsche gasp as he increases the pressure, adding little nips intermixed with the slow drag of his tongue along the design, thrilling at the feel of Porsche shuddering under him.
"I uh… I mean… um, yeah. It meant family. The Phoenix. It was a reminder that I was doing it for my family." The words tumble out of Porsche’s mouth like he can’t catch his breath. The tension in his frame climbs higher as Kinn slides lower, scraping his teeth against the dimples on his lower back before he soothes the bite with a kiss.
"I didn't think a childhood sob story would do it for you," Porsche mutters, spreading his legs to let Kinn settle between them. Kinn gives an approving nip to the supple curve of his ass and reaches blindly for the bottle of lube that he definitely left on the side table last night.
"You do it for me," Kinn grumbles, finally finding the bottle and popping the cap. He drips the lube messily over his fingers before pressing in , his fingertips ghosting over the tight furl of Porsche's hole.
Porsche starts making these little, bitten-off moans as Kinn works his way into his body, first with one finger, then another. Kinn could get drunk on those sounds, could spend the rest of his life supping from them and never be full.
"I could get another one. One for you." Porsche stutters out, hips arched and rocking back into Kinn's fingers. For a minute Kinn doesn't know what he means, can't think beyond stunning skin and the smooth glide of powerful muscles. When the words finally cut through the fog in his head, it's with a bolt of blistering arousal that rips a sound from him that he's sure he's never made before.
"Fuck, Porsche!" He groans into the skin of his neck, one hand coming to press into his mid-back, holding him still so Kinn can angle his fingers better. He knows he hits his target when Porsche lets out a deep groan, hands coming up to grip the sheets on either side of his head.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Kinn is so hard he's leaking, brain caught on the image of his mark permanently etched on Porsche's skin.
Kinn pulls his fingers from Porsche, ignoring the whine he lets out at being empty, and slicks himself up. Porsche is still open and loose from their activities last night, and it's the work of a moment to slide into his welcoming heat. He pulls all the way out, before adjusting his angle and slamming in again, the force of the thrust pushing a broken-off moan out of Porsche.
Kinn slips his hand into Porsche's hair, grabbing a good handful of the thick locks and pulling. The move brings Porsche's ear right next to Kinn's mouth, forcing him into an arch that angles just right until Kinn's hitting that spot that drives Porsche wild.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He mumbles into Porsche's ear. "Having my mark on you permanently. Feeling owned? Having everyone know who you belong to?"
Porsche doesn't answer, his soft, indecent mouth hanging open, only able to let out those punched-out little moans when Kinn drives into him.
"I know I'd like it," he whispers, thrusts turning vicious as he brings Porsche to the edge. He can tell he's close by the way his hands start flexing into the sheets as if he wants to push back. Like he wants to move but knows better.
"I love seeing my marks all over you. Maybe that's what we should do, huh? Tattoo my bite into you? Maybe here?" He says, teeth nipping just below Porsche's ear. "Somewhere it'll be seen, somewhere people will look at it and know that you belong on your back under me."
At that Porsche wails, pushing back hard enough to create just enough space to get his hand under him. He reaches for himself and in 1, 2 then three strokes, he's clenching down on Kinn's cock, muscles going tight and shivery as he comes. Kinn is barely a minute behind him.
In the aftermath, Kinn struggles to catch his breath as he flops down beside Porsche, who is still lying on his stomach, eyes closed, now with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
Kinn reaches over and flicks him on the neck.
"Ow!" Porsche bats at his hand, opening a baleful eye. "What was that for?"
Kinn just smiles.
***********************
Kinn doesn't pay the conversation much attention. After all, they have both said a lot of things during sex that would be inadvisable to do in the real world. So, he drags himself out of bed, gets ready for his day and moves on, life settling into new rhythms as Porsche takes the reigns of the minor family.
He’s in his study several weeks later, going over the returns for a club they have been using to launder money for years, but whose creative bookkeeping is getting a bit too creative, when Porsche wanders in.
Kinn glances up and smiles, Porsche is damp and sweaty, clearly having just come from training with the bodyguards. The Minor family compound comes equipped with a fully functioning gym but for reasons Kinn doesn’t understand and Porsche hasn’t explained, he still prefers training with the guards here. Still, that means Kinn gets to see Porsche sweaty and half-dressed at least once a week, so he’s not complaining.
His gaze drops back to the tablet in his hand, mind refocusing on the numbers in front of him. He’s still honestly unsure if his partners are cheating him out of his payments or if they have really spent 100, 000 baht to repaint the VIP lounge a frankly disturbing shade of silver.
“Hey, you're free on Friday evening. Keep it that way, yeah? I made an appointment for the thing.” Porsche shouts as he heads to the bathroom, dropping his shirt on the way.
“What thing? What appointment?” Kinn asks distractedly. He knows inflation is going up, but really? This is what they paid for a contractor to do some minor renovations? He kinda hopes they are cheating him, cause if not they are very stupid.
Porsche shouts another response but Kinn doesn’t hear him through the sound of running water.
“What?!” he calls back and still hears nothing.
Kinn sighs, tossing the tablet aside. He probably needs a break anyway. He walks into the bathroom to find Porsche bent over the sink, halfway through his skin routine. Kinn smirks. For a man that was very recently depressingly and stereotypically straight, he has taken to Kinn’s face products like a fish to water.
“I couldn’t hear what you were saying,” he says softly, leaning against the counter.
Porsche finishes rinsing and starts patting his face dry. “The tattoo, fuckface” Porsche finally annunciates. “I told my guy I wanted to add something and he has time on Friday. Did you want to be there?”
It takes a minute for his meaning to sink in and then Kinn goes very still, a feeling he is not familiar with coiling in his abdomen.
“Oh… you were serious about that?” Kinn doesn’t mean for his voice to come out sounding so cold, it’s just his baseline. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, just that it seems overwhelming, and his body’s response is to shut down. He sees that it’s a mistake the moment the words leave his mouth.
Tension coils into Porsche’s frame. He finishes drying his face and turns to lean back against the sink, shoulders hunched in and arms crossed. Not looking at Kinn.
“I didn’t realise you weren’t. I thought- never mind, nothing is set in stone, I can cancel.” He's muttering by the end of the sentence, face shutting down and his body turning from Kinn towards the shower.
“No!, Wait,” the words are out of Kinn’s mouth before he knows what he wants to follow them with, his hand curling powerfully around Porsche’s wrist. Porsche doesn’t pull away, but neither does he acquiesce. Kinn tugs on his wrist, jerking him back against the counter and caging Porsche in with his body.
Porsche comes easily enough but the tension is still there, his eyes still looking down. Kinn breathes for a moment, resting their foreheads together while he tries to think of what he wants to say, what he needs to say.
“I want you.” He finally whispers, and cannot suppress a shudder when Porsche finally meets his eyes. “I will always want you, that is never in doubt. I just don’t want you to do this only for me? So much of you already bears my mark,” he finishes, hand curling around the ring that sits heavily upon Porsche’s finger.
Porsche reaches for his face, hands cupping his cheeks, then sliding down to his neck as he nuzzles their faces together.
“This ring isn’t your mark. It’s the mark of your family. It weighs you down just as much as it weighs me down. But I don’t belong to them, I belong to you.” Porsche says it like it's a pronouncement. Like there is never any doubt that it is, and will always, be true. Kinn can’t breathe around the rush of fierce possessiveness that runs through him. Finds himself curling his hands even tighter into Porsche’s skin, wanting it to bruise.
“I offered it, Kinn. You didn’t ask. I want to do this. Do you want this?” Porsche pulls back as he asks, face now soft and open, looking up at Kinn with those eyes that seem to have a direct link to his soul. Gods, Kinn sometimes finds it hard to believe that he’s real, that anything this beautiful could truly be his. Words escape him so he does what he’s best at. He kisses him, getting lost in the familiar motion before something Porsche said earlier scratches at the back of his head.
“Wait, you said you asked ‘your guy’? As in the guy that did your phoenix?”
Porsche hums an affirmative answer, more concerned with nipping at the sharp line of Kinn’s jaw.
“The same guy that illegally tattoed a minor for a couple hundred baht?” he asks, incredulously. Porsche leans back, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him.
“Are we no longer doing business with criminals now?”
Kinn glares at the cheek. “I just meant we can go to anyone, in the whole of Bangkok. Don’t you want someone a little… better?”
Porsche wraps his arms around Kinn’s neck, smiling at him indulgently like he’s a particularly dim child.
“Once you trust someone with a tattoo gun on your body, it forms a connection, ok?”
Kinn frowns harder. Porsche just laughs and goes back to kissing him.
***********************
Kinn is pleasantly surprised when they get to the shop. He had expected some dive in a back alley somewhere, but the place is open and airy, well-lit and clean. Porsche keeps shooting him these little looks that are so loud, Kinn can hear the implied insult to his ‘rich boy’ upbringing.
They don’t show him the design before they get started. Porsche and the guy, Khorm, exchange a few words of greeting, then Porsche is shirtless and laying on his stomach, face blank and muscles loose like this is the most natural thing for him to be doing. Kinn has to police his dick. He is starting to have a very automatic reaction to Porsche looking that content, and this isn’t the time or place.
It takes longer than he expects. The artist shading in some lines behind the phoenix and then filling in an image in the background. After a while, it starts to take shape and more importantly, Kinn starts to recognize it. It’s the woods they were lost in, months ago at this point. Khorm fills in trees in shades of grey, followed by a waterfall, before drawing a campfire under the bird, so it looks like the phoenix is emerging from the fire in the midst of the woods.
Porsche keeps shooting Kinn these looks, heavy with potential and scorching hot, like he’s getting off on having a bit of Kinn placed on his body. Like he wants Kinn so deep beneath his skin he’ll never get him out. It’s all Kinn can do to keep his hands to himself.
By the time the artist is done, it looks like the phoenix was never alone, like it was always meant to have this background. Kinn is man enough to admit when he’s wrong. This Khorm guy is talented. Kinn tells him as much while they bandage the tattoo and he gives Porsche the instructions for caring for it. Kinn stands politely near the door, praying no one notices how hard he’s been since he recognised the image. Going by how deliberately Porsche brushes against him getting into the car, he’s not that lucky.
The car ride back is the longest of his life. Kinn very purposely keeps his eyes trained out the window, ignoring Porsche as best he can. If he looks at him and finally allows himself to process that Porsche tattooed himself with the moment he fell in love with Kinn, he’ll lose what little control he has and fuck Porsche into the backseat of this car, bodyguards be damned.
By some miracle, they make it back home. Kinn has no recollection of what he says to anyone between the car and his bedroom, but somehow they are finally there and he can break. The door barely closes before he has his hands under Porsche’s shirt, nails digging into his waist as he pulls him flush against him. Porsche melts for him beautifully, mouth going slack so Kinn can lick in sinfully, going deep enough that he’ll never be rid of the taste.
Kinn pulls at Porsche’s shirt, undoing the buttons as his lips trail over his jaw, then down to his neck, pausing to suck and bite at that spot just below his ear that makes Porsche go boneless. If he has his way, Porsche won’t be able to think, much less walk, for days .
“Kinn, fuck, you can’t- you can’t put me on my back.” Porsche gasps, slipping the shirt off his shoulders carefully before reaching for Kinn’s pants and undoing the button, even as he pulls him further into the room.
“Guess you’ll just have to be on top then,” Kinn mumbles as Porsche's fingers finally get into his pants and curl around his cock to give one perfect stroke. The touch, after being hard for so-fucking-long, is sublime.
Kinn pushes his own boxer-briefs off Porsche, dropping to sit heavily on the bed behind him as Porsche steps out of his last piece of clothing. He pulls Porsche between his legs and starts mouthing at his chest, stopping to worry at a nipple while Porsche makes the most pornagraphic sounds above him.
“Shit, this is really doing it for you isn’t it?” Porsche moans, leaning back just a little to give Kinn more glorious golden skin to put his mouth on.
“I’ve told you before. You do it for me. In any iteration.” he mutters against Porsche’s abs, tongue dipping into the grooves before he shifts over to bite at the delightful curve of his hip bone. Porsche moans, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest, and reaches for Kinn, pausing his ministrations and forcing him to look up.
The moment stretches, over long and heavy, before Porsche strokes a soothing thumb along his eyebrow, cradling his face like he’s something precious. Something wanted.
“My whole life,” Porsche whispers. “all for you.”
It’s the heaviest, most meaningful promise that has ever been made to him and it’s no less stunning now than the first time Porsche said it. He drops a gentle kiss on Porsche’s hip, sliding his hand up along Porsche’s back until he meets the edge of the bandage on the new ink. He caresses along that edge, expression going taut and serious.
“My whole life,” he replies. “All for you.”
When Porsche smiles at him again, it’s like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds.
Gods, Kinn is never going to be productive again.