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Kinn is aware that he’s a possessive man. It’s a trait that comes with having siblings. Despite growing up in a household with a surplus of income, his mother raised the trio of brothers closely so they could bond and learn with one another.
He got along with them fine for the most part but when it came to sharing… he fucking hates it.
It’s not to say that he was possessive of everything. No, he could still share the toys their parents bought them and allow Kim or Tankhun to split the bed for their afternoon naps; however, there were certain items in their toy chests that he loved and hated to see in the hands of others. He remembered throwing the worst tantrums when he saw someone picking up his things.
Over time, he learned to conceal his displeasure better and be a tad more subtle and suave when he removes something he’d staked a claim on away from others and into his safekeeping without the melodrama.
This becomes increasingly difficult, however, when a precious object eventually transforms into a precious person.
When Kinn was familiarizing himself with the escort population of Bangkok, he didn’t really care enough about any of them to feel that sense of overpowering possessiveness. Yes, he treated them courteously but that’s because he’s a gentleman. Otherwise, they were just a means to an end, a way to satisfy his base needs without involving unnecessary feelings and complications.
In other words, they were the toys he liked to play with but could still bear to share. They were nothing special . And that wasn’t a bad thing since Kinn was the heir. Given that he was next in the line of succession to lead the family, there was no space in his life for something or someone special.
He accepted that idea until Porsche came along.
The attraction was instantaneous.
A fire was lit the moment their eyes met in that alley and every day that had passed since then had spiraled out of control until Kinn gave up on taming it altogether. And, fuck, did he try.
Originally, he wanted to mold Porsche into one of those forgettable toys that rotated on the roster. Pretty thing like Porsche should still be appreciated, after all, but at a safe distance where he had no grounds to hurt the heir. Kinn learned quickly that Porsche wasn’t just another shiny toy to play with and leave behind.
Because Porsche was not made to be left behind. He was made to be obsessed over. He was made to be special.
The first time someone purposely coveted what was Kinn's pushed him to the brink. If Vegas wasn’t his cousin, Kinn would’ve put a bullet in his brain, point-blank. Because the little fucker left marks on what was his.
Kinn spent all of that night erasing those marks and replacing them with his. Only for Porsche to look at him like he wanted nothing to do with him the next morning.
It left an ill taste on his tongue seeing it. That was the last thing he wanted. Yet the damage was done, and Kinn finally learned what it’s like to experience true regret. It’s a feeling he’s decidedly not very fond of.
Amidst the regret was a grim satisfaction. Vegas knew better than to come near what Kinn has labeled as his, even if he’s formed a rather nasty habit of going for them anyway, like a suicidal idiot. But that night has made something all the more clear: there’s someone in the major family who is completely off-limits, and Kinn will demonstrate the hard way how well-protected that someone is.
Vegas will lose so much more than just his place in the family the next time he decides to sniff around outside of his enclosure.
Nothing is allowed to threaten his Porsche. Not even family and he’ll make them well aware of the fact.
It took time for his pretty thing to trust him again. Time, and a harrowing escape into the forest that rendered them lost, tethered to each other, for days. Kinn has suspicions about who’s behind it. It doesn’t take a genius to put the puzzle together. But there was nothing he could do from here.
So, in the meantime, he’ll make the most out of this experience. This was a rare chance for him to remove the everyday mask he dons, and show his pretty thing a different part of himself. Porsche is much more accepting this time around.
Perfect.
—
The first time Porsche openly accepted he was Kinn’s was when he agreed to wear one of the boss’ watches. It was a rushed decision made one morning when his lover scampered out of their bed and proceeded to fly around getting ready for a shift, but not a thoughtless one.
Since they became official, Kinn was obsessed with lavishing his partner with the finest jewelry and clothing. He wanted people to see that the beau of the Theerapanyakun heir, the love of his life, was the cream of the crop, and was honored as one. The kingpin was well aware that Porsche was already stunning and certainly didn’t need the assistance of twinkling gems and glistening silks to outshine everyone.
Kinn loves rubbing it in people’s faces, anyway. Except Porsche didn’t let him because his pretty thing is humble and way more kind-hearted than Kinn ever tried to be. It just makes him all the more lovable, and Kinn all the more obsessed.
So, imagine his surprise when he caught sight of it.
Up until that point, his lover rejected every clothing and accessory Kinn offered him, stating that those priceless items were of no use in his daily life.
Yet that morning, Porsche, in a show of heartfelt symbolism, had selected the timepiece that started it all. The heir hadn’t even noticed at first as he was simply too busy admiring how elegant and comfortable the younger was as he navigated this space. So, it wasn’t until Porsche appeared in his suite again, with coffee balanced atop a tray as his excuse to sneak away from official duty to be with Kinn, that the older man noticed the shining accessory.
As Porsche deposits the beverage on the table and moves to draw back, the mafia heir finally catches sight of the jewelry. Out of his entire invaluable collection, no other watch outshines the one sitting on his pretty thing’s wrist, for none of them could ever measure up in terms of sentimental value. “You’re wearing it,” he points out dumbly.
Porsche’s initial confusion about his observation turns bashful. He’s aware that Kinn is possessive and likes to assert ownership over the things and people he considers his. Normally, this should be regarded as a red flag and the bodyguard originally agrees. But, before Kinn, Porsche was never… loved as just himself.
Growing up, he was forced to be and do many things because of the circumstances. He was Porchay’s loving yet overworked parent, brother, and caregiver; and he was Arthit’s dutiful nephew and cash cow—he was anything but just himself. This is an epiphany he never voiced aloud because it would devastate his little brother. His innocent and sweet little brother who absolutely does love him unconditionally and is already trying so hard to become less of a burden as he grows older, even when Porsche has assured over and over that he was anything but.
So, he internalized it, burying it deep. But there are nights when he is so mentally exhausted by the bills, the debts, and the endless fight for his life, his brother's and uncle’s lives, and his home that the epiphany unburies itself and shows an even uglier insecurity: What if no one could ever love him for just who he is? Not what he brings to the table, but only him?
Upon their first meeting that fateful night, Porsche immediately detected a certain aura from the mysterious stranger whose ass he had saved. Their encounter was brief and violent from start to finish. Every second was rich with tension born from the roughness of sheer survival and then… something else.
The gaze Kinn kept him under was deep and assessing. And then when Porsche stole a lion’s gall and stripped him of the watch, those sharp eyes shifted into something dangerous and primitive.
As the former bartender speeds away with the watch, and Kinn lets it happen because Porsche was not so stupid and ignorant of who rode behind him to the gas station a few miles away from the scene of the crime, he thinks back to that gaze. Penetrating, odd, and unsettling—it was no different than appearing on the radar of some predator, except what the hell does Porsche have that makes him a valuable prey?
That final thought ultimately banished that train of befuddling thoughts from his mind. There was nothing he had that was worth the attention. But he was wrong. Utterly and entirely wrong.
Kinn has that look in his eyes again now—the same one that confused Porsche that night, except he is a little wiser now and recognizes it. The heir is marveling at what is his .
He sees everything Porsche is—the explosive temperament, the protective streak that overrides his self-preservation, the sacrifices, and the fears—and decides it is all his. Try as he might, Porsche cannot dredge up the wariness most people with common sense should feel under that heavy regard. Not when there’s someone before him who sees right past every scar left by his fights against the rest of the world and loves him anyway.
“Do you like it?” He flexes the accessory before Kinn, playful and cute. With a handsome grin and a pleased hum, the older man catches his flailing hand and tugs him closer.
Those hands were so broad and warm, and Porsche wanted them on him always.
The heir kissed his hand, lips lingering on the taut skin as he traveled upward toward his watch-clad wrist. Stamping another delightful peck, Kinn murmurs, “I love it. You should wear it from now on.”
Frowning, Porsche tells him, “But this is yours.”
The heir smiles and pulls him into his lap. “It hasn’t been mine since you stole it that night. It’s all yours.”
‘Just like you’re all mine.’
—
One thing people can never claim about Kinn is that he’s an impassioned lover. Even the faceless bodies he lay with before Porsche wouldn’t dream of associating him with such an insult.
“Dude, what happened to your neck?” The bodyguard almost drops his food tray as he slaps a hand over his neck, where a hickey sits proud and obvious.
“I- I fell?” It’s a weak excuse that made no sense. The absence of his usually confident voice didn’t help.
Pete raises an unimpressed brow. “On a vacuum cleaner? ‘Cause that mark is huge and almost black!”
He’s going to beat the crap out of Kinn. “Ok, fine. I didn’t fall.”
Some guy snorts behind him. Porsche turns around, disliking the sneer on his face. “Don’t lie. I think you did fall. Probably on Khun Kinn’s dick. Why else would a nobody like you land the head bodyguard job without credentials? The Theerapanyakuns have really lowered their standards.”
Porsche narrows his eyes at him while Pete, standing behind him, bristles. “Let me guess. You’re one of Big’s buddies?” The sneer deepens. Oh, well, that hit something, didn’t it?
“What about it?”
The younger but higher-ranking bodyguard shrugs, continuing to scoop food into his tray. “You got the same condescending tone and script. Oh, boy, you guys must have rehearsed this, huh? Do you host an ‘I hate Porsche’ club or something?”
“Shut up!” The man snarls at him. It’s concerning how pissed off the dude is when this was only their first conversation.
Porsche’s face shutters, a cold mask his boyfriend would be proud of fell into place. “If you have so much time to attend those meetings and rehearse your hateful little skits then you have too much fucking time. Use it for something else.” The man was ramrod and stiff as a slat of wood. The head bodyguard will have his fun breaking him into pieces later. “As a matter of fact, I know just what you can use it for—gym; in two hours. Since you’re so concerned about the bodyguard standards, let’s see if you hold up.”
The smile he sends is amiable but the usual charming sparks in those eyes are void. He stares as the younger man walks away while his friend remains. “Khun Kinn will hear about this,” he—Pete, if his brain remembers correctly—informs passively. “But don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll make it painless. Maybe. Who knows? Have a good day!”
A cold sweat trickles down the man’s nape as Pete disappears after Porsche. Though it should be obvious which consequence was worse, his fears were not placed where people expected them to be.
—
Kinn wants to murder someone.
Pete just reported back to him. Some nameless nobody on his payroll had the audacity to question his Porsche’s place in the household.
Unacceptable. “And how did Porsche respond?”
His boyfriend’s best friend shows him a rare evil smirk. Pete’s usual charms rely heavily on having a sweet face, disarming smile, and gentle demeanor. Having dark mischief dance across it was an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence. “I believe he’s in the process of breaking Lim in the gym right about now.”
The Theerapanyakun head offers his own dark smirk. Good.
And, after his pretty thing was finished teaching that poor bastard a lesson, it’ll be Kinn’s turn. “Thank you, Pete. Go ahead and enjoy the show downstairs for me.”
Pete left shortly after and Kinn continued to stare at the door. He made the perfect choice.
—
It was a delightfully slow morning. For the first time in months, Kinn’s morning and afternoon are free. He’s worked hard to have this time off to spend it with Porsche.
Stretching until his muscles pop, the heir reaches over blindly, feeling around for the solid warmth that never fails to lull him into peaceful rest. Only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. That can’t be right. Porsche promised him they could laze around in bed until late. So, where did his pretty thing go?
Cracking an eye open, he hazily scans the room. Not here. Perhaps Porsche migrated to the living room.
True to his intuition, he finds the younger one sitting in the living room. Dressed in nothing but an oversized button-up that looks suspiciously like his. Oh, he likes the sight of that very much.
“You’re up early,” Kinn comments, voice raspy and thick from sleep. Porsche finds this voice extremely tantalizing. He hums in confirmation, glancing over to look at his rumpled boyfriend. “And wearing something of mine.”
He sounded seductively possessive. The younger feels a thrill shoot down his spine as strong arms wrap around him and hot breaths hit his neck. He bares it a little more, inviting Kinn to leave marks. Again. He yelps when the sharp teeth clamp on his skin. “Don’t bite so hard, you vampire! And don’t leave marks so high up. I already have a hard time hiding them.”
Porsche feels a frown planted on his neck. “Why do you need to hide them? It’s not like people don’t already know about us.”
“I know I don’t need to. But it’s about decency. Plus, I can’t take your brother teasing me anymore!”
Kinn chuckles at his beau's pout. However, underneath Porsche’s petulance lies a nasty insecurity. They’ve only been dating for a short while but Kinn is observant enough to recognize the younger’s habit of using humor and childishness to veil a sore spot. It’s a tactic he likely picked up over the years as an older brother always needing to shield and cheer up a little sibling.
Kinn’s heart breaks a little every time he thinks about Porsche’s life before they crossed paths. He doesn’t blame anyone except for the so-called uncle who did everything but his duty as a guardian and the loan sharks who thought it was wise and not at all sick in the head to chase after a mere child for an adult’s debt.
Because of them, Porsche had to grow up too fast and too soon, assuming roles he shouldn’t have to take on and adopting methods that forced him to suppress his own feelings and struggles.
Finishing that man off was one of the more satisfying tasks he’s done as of late. Not that Porsche knows of it. As far as his lover is concerned, his uncle suddenly woke up one morning so overcome by guilt for his wrongdoings that he packed up his bags and left permanently. A simple note was left behind—force-written before he died—explaining the situation and apologizing.
As for the loan sharks, well, Kinn is a meticulous man, on top of the possessiveness. He will spend good time hunting down each and every hateful man who laid their hands on his pretty thing, and he’ll make them pay. Thoroughly.
After they apologize profusely at Porsche’s feet, of course.
But, resuming the topic of his partner’s insecurity, Kinn has an idea of where it came from. The incident in the cafeteria is still fresh on the minds of both of them. After all, it has only been about a week since it happened. Though Porsche dealt with it flawlessly, it would seem that those poisonous words may have wormed under his skin, anyway.
While not ideal, Kinn doesn’t classify this as an impossibility to cure. “Is this about what happened the other day in the cafeteria?”
Porsche’s eyes slip shut and he nuzzles closer toward Kinn’s neck like he’s physically trying to nest there. Kinn holds him protectively. “It doesn’t bother me. Not really. I actually expected it. The braver we get; the braver they will get, too.”
“But?”
His pretty thing sighs.
“It’s still, you know, not the nicest to hear…”
Kinn clenched his teeth. His lover should never have to hear those foul words. Most of the house knows the bare-bone details: Porsche was hired on a whim; he didn’t go through the standard hiring process; and Kinn and his father personally selected him. The rest of the tale is up to the outsiders to spin. There might be multiple versions of the story circulating the house but, against his better wishes, it feels like the most popular is the one that puts his pretty thing in the worst possible light.
“I’ll take care of it,” he declares, tone rife with a violent promise.
“Like you did with that guy from the cafeteria?” Porsche asks innocently. He knows more than he lets on. It’s just easier to make people assume he’s an unobservant airhead. An incident like that was certain to reach his overprotective lover’s ears sooner or later. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice his disappearance the day after?”
Kinn grins in lieu of a response. Porsche’s hidden sharp wit was always a wonder to witness.
“Do I want to know what you did to him?”
The older sneaks a hand into the fold of the white shirt, loving the feeling of smooth skin and firm muscles that react beautifully to his touches. Porsche blooms under him like a flower to the sun. “Let’s just say, he hurt my heart so I hurt his.”
The bodyguard keens when the boss rakes his nails across his chest, catching a sensitive nipple. “What does that mean?”
“Hm, it’s nothing you should bother yourself with, pretty thing. He got what he deserved and that’s what matters.” Meaning, Kinn ruthlessly ripped that man to shreds. “I saw the injuries you left, by the way. You left me so little to do, sweetheart. Very impressive.”
Porsche huffs, rising from his place to stand directly in front of his lover. Kinn instinctively wraps his arms around him, securing him against the other man’s body. “Really? Are you going to reward me for my impressive work?”
“Gladly.” Before he knew it, the bodyguard was swept up in those strong arms and carted back to the bedroom. He’s dropped on the bed unceremoniously with a ruffled huff. As he moves to take off the shirt, Kinn puts a hand on his. “Leave it on.”
There he goes again, with his weird obsession. But Porsche will indulge him. If something so simple gives his man cathartic relief then he’s fine with it. “If His Horniness insists!”
Kinn snorts then leans down for a sweet kiss. Porsche loves kissing Kinn. Every kind of kiss—the gentle sweet ones, the hot and messy ones, and the casual ones where they just wanted to greet each other affectionately—makes him sigh happily like he’s so filled to the brim with love it eases him from the inside out.
What he loves even more is when those kisses transition, like now. The sweet kiss that began their free morning quickly became hot until they were greedily devouring the air from each other’s lungs. “Kinn,” he moans against the other’s mouth while grappling with the silk pajama bottoms. Curse the expensive slippery material. Can’t this man just sleep naked or something like everybody else?
“Patience, my pretty thing,” Kinn coos, helping him remove it so he could return pinning the younger down to kissing the life out of him. The shirt still smells faintly of his cologne. He hadn’t noticed that earlier. Did his lover snatch this out of the dirty laundry basket? “Why did you decide to wear this?”
The younger looked him straight in the eyes and then lied. “I didn’t have anything else.”
Kinn cleared almost a quarter of his closet for him. It would’ve been more but Porsche wanted to start small. That space is filled with clothes his boyfriend bought specifically for him. This won’t do. He grabs the younger’s ass hard enough to bruise and him to whine in protest. “Tell me the truth.”
Porsche looks away, trying very hard to appear nonchalant, and murmurs extremely quietly, “It smells like you.”
“What was that?”
“I said, it smells like you.” Well, wasn’t that just pure sugar to the ears?
Kinn laughs, utterly delighted. “Why are you so damn cute?”
His boyfriend has a glowing blush painted on his cheeks as he whines again for him to shut up and quit teasing him. “Can you just get on with it?”
“You like smelling like me,” Kinn repeats, a filthier edge shadowing his voice this time. Since Porsche was wearing nothing aside from his shirt, it was easy to press his fingers where he wanted. His lover was still stretched from last night but a little lube would ease the penetration better. He leans toward the bedside table and grabs it quickly, eager to move on toward more pleasurable activities.
Porsche shivers as cold, lubed fingers slide into his hole. He doesn’t understand why this step was needed when he was still decently loose from their tumble last night. Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he’s unsupportive of safe sex practices. He thinks it’s thoughtful of Kinn to take the time to prep him properly before diving in.
He just… doesn’t understand why. All the gay sex education he’s had—which is basically none because apparently, gay porn doesn’t count—never really explained this. However, Kinn has more experience playing this field than he does. Maybe there’s something in the ways of gay sex and foreplay that Porsche isn’t privy to yet.
Or maybe this is another facet of Kinn’s possessiveness—the deep-seated, primal urge to maintain and care for his possessions. Porsche wants to care that he’s being objectified but so far, this part of his boyfriend poses no threat to him. Kinn is possessive as fuck, yes, but he doesn’t use it as an excuse to oppress Porsche. As long as it stays that way, they don’t have a problem.
Porsche was so deep in his brooding that when Kinn finally started entering him, it shocked him right back to the present. He gasped loudly as he felt the blunt head of that not-quite-small cock catch his rim.
“Where’s your mind wandering off to when you’re with me?” The heir growls as he shoves the rest in, in one go. Porsche shouts, body sliding up a bit at the force.
“Possessive bastard,” he grunts, slapping the bare bicep by his head. “I was thinking about you and your weird self!”
Kinn visibly preens, and if not for the cock inside of him, the younger would’ve rolled his eyes. “Good.”
He rolled his hips experimentally, brushing against his lover’s prostate. Porsche moans loudly at that, eyes rolling upward. That’s all the signals Kinn needed.
Starting slowly, he carefully watches Porsche lose himself in the motion. The legs framing his waist are long and perfect to hold and tug the body beneath him closer, elongating the depth that he’s penetrating Porsche.
Porsche’s moans encourage him to go rougher and harder. “That’s it, darling. Scream for me.” His pretty thing’s own cock bobs against his stomach, oozing precum all over. Kinn grabs it, not all too gently. Porsche prefers a little roughness during sex. Something about Kinn being able to throw him around and do whatever he wants to do while he takes it is a questionable but fun turn-on. “Touch yourself.”
What a vision he was graced with when Porsche complied. Heavy-lidded eyes meet Kinn’s for a second before his gaze wanders elsewhere to watch, entranced, as the younger’s hand smooths over glistening tan skin, ghosting over the pebbled nipples over and over until his moans peak.
Kinn wants to see him tip over the edge. He jacks him off fast, tightening his grip just the way his lover likes it. Porsche wails as he’s stimulated from all corners—the cock up his ass, the hand on his cock, and his own fingers still working over his chest.
“Kinn!” Porsche screams as he comes, bowing off the bed. The older man stares down at him in smug satisfaction while he licks his hand clean, maintaining eye contact the entire time. The pupils in those gorgeous eyes are blown wide. That ridiculously sexy bastard.
With the last of his energy, Porsche kicks him off until his cock slips out of him. Kinn grunts at the suddenness then narrows his eyes in rage. Did that brat just do what he thinks he did?
“You did not just do that.”
Porsche does not respond. Instead, he goes on his hands and knees, crawling toward the edge of the bed and dropping his mouth open in silent invitation.
Kinn groans, realizing why his boyfriend kicked him away. Holy fuck, he’s perfect. If Kinn wasn’t in love with him before, he definitely just fell for him, dick-first, now.
“You want me to finish like this? In your mouth?” Porsche shudders, soaking up the deep timber of that voice, and the filthiness of that light question.
His voice cracks a little as he tries to speak. “I want you to mark me somewhere no one ever has.”
The black in Kinn’s eyes swallowed every glimmer of light. It should be illegal for his pretty thing to tempt him like this.
He sets the slowest possible rhythm by easing in slowly while remaining wary of any signs from Porsche, choosing to table those words for another time. Otherwise, he’ll do something they may not recover from.
Porsche tears up a little, throat spasming as Kinn continues pushing in and in. His hands are bone-white against the bed frame. He tries to remember what his lover taught him the first time—breathe carefully and relax; don’t be greedy and rush it ‘cause that’ll hurt both of them. He whimpers around the girth.
Good gods, Kinn was just everywhere now, wasn’t he? Dripping down his throat, scent draped on his sweat-slicked skin, and his touches… Porsche could still feel him down there, splitting him open and quite close to the edge before the younger bucked him off.
Kinn wasn’t much better. The heat of that mouth wrapped around him was the epitome of pleasure. It takes everything in him not to throw off the kid gloves and fuck his lover mindless. “Do you want to do it yourself or me to do it?”
Porsche looks up at him and then taps Kinn’s hand on his head. The slide was slick, hot, and tight. And the slower Kinn goes, the more both of them feel.
Inexperienced he may be, Porsche was a fantastically quick learner. From his own experience, he learns that sometimes the girls he messed around with would use their tongue now and then, or moan and send vibrations. Those small details made delightful differences.
Kinn receives his moves with delight and picks up the pace a notch, digging his nails a tad rougher until Porsche groans. “You feel so good,” Kinn moans, pushing his lover’s limit further. The younger whines. His jaw was beginning to ache, his throat tipping on the side of soreness, and his fingers cramping. But he doesn’t move away, remaining where he is as Kinn uses his mouth with a purpose.
It was quite the feat that he didn’t choke when Kinn came spilling down his throat. He garbled only a little, fighting down the urge to panic when his breathing was momentarily compromised, before swallowing. His boyfriend pulls out, whispering sweet nothings and complimenting him for being a good boy.
The afterglow was something Porsche seldom got to enjoy when he was a bartender. True, it gives him a phenomenal energy boost for the rest of his shift and he wears that noticeable after-sex glow with pride. But he never got to just lounge and bask in it like he could now.
His jaw ached but the pain balanced with the tingly feeling spreading to his fingertips. It’s grounding and Porsche’s body feels right as rain while Kinn surrounds him once more after his quick trip to the bathroom. This time though, he’s taking care of him in other ways. After-sex was a separate process that Porsche was learning to appreciate and indulge Kinn. It was intimate and personal, and it meant so much to both of them—Kinn getting to take care of him while Porsche gets to be cared for.
The kisses during these times… Porsche thinks he loves them most. “I love you, Kinn.”
The smile he gets is beautiful. And Porsche is very possessive of it.
—
Porsche wants to go home.
It’s the first event Kinn has after they made their relationship public so naturally, Porsche is present as his plus-one. From the get-go, the younger was certain he would not find this night fun. He attended them as a bodyguard and then, they were dull as hell. Full of rich, fake people rubbing elbows with each other while masking their insidious intentions behind flowery words. Being around them makes him sick.
But, these suck-up opportunities were key for networking and furthering the family business. So, Porsche must bite his tongue, smile, and not mess it up for his boyfriend. At least Kinn promised they won’t need to stay the whole time. That should be enough for now.
In the meantime, Porsche is in the middle of finishing his third glass of champagne in the first hour. He vowed to stay out of trouble but he wasn’t about to deal with these vultures completely sober either. He’s got a plan put together with the bodyguard following him around—let the drinks pour, alert him if someone’s about to come up and chat, and only cut him off and escort him out discreetly if he looks like he’s about to blow shit up. So far, the last one hasn’t come close to happening so Porsche’s claim of having a good time, which he’s peddled off to these sharks a decent handful of times, is mostly true.
A few of them only talked him up to sniff Kinn’s whereabouts, though. Probably assuming he’s attending as Kinn’s head bodyguard. Though their relationship is no longer kept exclusively behind closed doors, they agreed to not bring it up in front of the world either. Tonight isn’t about them, anyway. No need to kick up a fuss.
Nonetheless, the stares and whispers were stifling. Porsche was getting more and more antsy and uncomfortable the longer he stayed glued to his boyfriend’s side. So, Kinn sent him off to the bar with a promise to always remain in his vision. Other than preventing himself from embarrassing his in-law’s clan, that’s the only other reason he cracked that plan with his guard. He wants to remain somewhat sober in case something happens.
Not every event they go to ends in a dumpster fire but Kinn is a popular target no matter where he goes. For assassinations and flirting alike if the crowd of gushing admirers that followed him around was anything to go by.
Porsche sucks the ice cube in his mouth in irritation. Yeah, he understands that Kinn needs to charm these snakes but does he have to do it so well? They’re already hanging on to his every word, he doesn’t need to have them so whipped up that they cling to his arms, too. The gaggle of giggling women isn’t the problem but the boys… those twig-like, dainty twinks he could probably snap in half like a glow stick…
His blood boils.
The bodyguard behind him unconsciously takes a step back. If this was a cartoon, he fears the man would have steam blowing out of his ears. Khun Porsche is typically laid-back, joking about and causing mischief. But there are times, like now, when he shows why he’s the perfect partner for the Theerapanyakun heir. His beautiful face, usually softened with humor, looks like it’s carved from ice.
He only gets like this for two reasons: either Khun Kinn is in danger or something about him pissed Khun Porsche off. Since the former isn’t true, the bodyguard concludes it’s the second reason.
Yikes. Good luck to Khun Kinn. By the look of it, the heir will need it.
Khun Porsche slams the drink he’s holding on the bar top so hard the crystal cracks, and storms off. Or rather, toward Khun Kinn.
Oh, boy. Should he intervene? He was given strict orders by Khun Porsche himself to step in if he felt it was necessary. Is this the time? But he doesn’t want the man to bite his head off!
He scurries after him, warring with his inner thoughts, weighing each option carefully. If he stops him, Khun Porsche will likely take his unresolved and probably violent feelings out on him. But, if he doesn’t do something, Khun Porsche could do something outrageous and embarrass the clan and then he’ll get chewed out by everyone.
Why does either option land him in hot water? It’s a lose-lose situation all around.
But, he has a job to do. Getting torn to pieces by Khun Porsche is probably less painful than facing the other Theerapanyakuns or, gods forbid, P’Chan. Right? He’ll have to risk it. “Uh, Khun Porsche, I don’t mean to disturb you but what exactly are you planning on doing?”
“Don’t worry about me, Mek. I still got my head screwed on right. No need to intercept yet.”
Mek’s mouth clicks shut. Well, it’s out of his hands now. But that didn’t stop the trepidation collecting in his gut. The closer they get to an unsuspecting Khun Kinn, the more resigned the poor bodyguard feels. Stories still circulate the compound about Khun Porsche’s tenure as a bodyguard, and from what he’s gathered, the man is a trouble magnet! So, no matter how reassuring Khun Porsche’s words were, Mek is still confident that whatever happens next can’t be good.
Khun Porsche returns to Khun Kinn’s side, icy facade firmly in place as he stares down the harpies flocked around his man. That mask only melts a little when he turns to look at Khun Kinn for a brief moment. That short look was all the bodyguard needed to understand how much love these two share.
Mek snorts quietly when Khun Porsche makes a show out of grabbing his boyfriend’s arm, purposefully throwing off the hand inappropriately placed on it by one of Khun Kinn’s daring followers, and drapes it over himself. “Hi, Kinn!”
Khun Kinn smiles at his partner, helplessly captivated by the cute act and visibly relaxing as his boyfriend is tucked into his side. “Hi, pretty thing.”
“Khun Kinn,” some sweet-faced boy impolitely interrupts. Khun Porsche looks like he’s fighting a massive eye roll. “Who’s this?”
“Hello, I’m Kinn’s boyfriend and future husband. Nice to meet you!” His voice was so perfectly polished and polite yet so fake at the same time. Mek feels genuinely impressed. He got this ‘rich aristocrats during social events’ voice nailed down.
The guy ashens. The crowd stirs. Khun Kinn was really taken?
They had assumed it was an uncorroborated rumor. And why wouldn’t they? It was a part of his image as the most untouchable bachelor in Thailand to swear off relationships. Since the last big dating scandal involving him, Khun Kinn was never seen or heard to be involved with anyone. Then, out of nowhere, he’s declared as taken off the market and by no one anyone in his circle has heard of before.
But, here he was—utterly smitten, willingly wrapped around this mysterious man’s finger. Practically glowing with every word the man says.
“F-future husband?”
“Yes, sir. I’m made and ready to be a Theerapanyakun.” Then he does something that sends Mek’s blood pressure through the roof. Khun Porsche gets ahold of his ‘future husband’s’ hand, the one bearing the family ring, and wiggles it free. And then he slips it on his own finger. The ring was big and loose. Mek feels faint. “Kinn, we need to resize this. I don’t want it to slide off.”
Khun Kinn doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he’s staring at Khun Porsche, so completely besotted that people start to feel awkward. This feels too private to be aired out here.
“We’ll make you a brand new one.”
“You better,” Khun Porsche grumbles, returning the accessory to its rightful owner. “Can’t have the spouse of Kinn Theerapanyakun walking around ringless, you know.” He leans closer to his partner and whispers, “How else will people know I’m yours?”
Khun Kinn melts into a hopeless puddle right there.
Well, it looks like Khun Porsche did have this handled after all.