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Kun knew he wasn’t the only one whom Ten served. There were many others that shuffled up the wooden steps to his small bungalow on stilts, shrouded beneath a canopy of teak leaves and wide palms. Often times they were locals, but the odd tourist made its way out to the tiny island off the coast of Thailand to see him, too. Most times, Kun saw them visit once and leave, never to return. Other times, he would recognize the same face come back once or twice.
Kun himself arrived on the island some weeks ago. Or maybe it was months. He lost track of the time. He lost track of a lot of things since he met Ten.
But that meeting he remembered clearly. Kun had been lost, hiking across the island around dusk, searching for his way back to the camp he had set up for himself while there. He could never forget the sight of Ten in the clear lagoon that sat at the foot of a waterfall buried in the jungle. He rose out of the water like a nymph spirit leaving his dwelling and Kun remembered feeling wretched, like his presence alone was disturbing some sacred ceremony – but Ten didn’t seem bothered by his presence.
When he noticed him, Ten had received him politely in his native language and Kun did his best to respond with what little Thai he had picked up during his time on the mainland. It made Ten smile, something kind and forgiving.
The Thai man had dried his shaggy, jet black hair with an old but colorful towel and Kun noticed the multiple beaded bracelets that hung off each of his wrists, tassels swinging wildly whenever he moved. A necklace of gold with a carved turquoise pendant rested against the slick skin of his chest. Exquisite silver rings glittered even in the fast-fading light of the setting sun, and when he turned, Kun noted the fine pearls that dotted his ears. On anyone else, it would have seemed excessive, gleaming so brightly against the crude forest scenery. But on Ten, he couldn’t imagine a more fitting look.
Ten settled onto a boulder along the boundary of the lagoon and beckoned Kun closer. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Kun listened, walking over to him like he was pulled in by gravitational force. This close, Kun could see the Thai man’s eyes were demure and placid pools of black, yet they shimmered whenever he spoke.
He asked Kun where he came from and Kun told him – China. Ten slowly wound his tongue around a Chinese greeting, as if reacquainting himself with words he hadn’t spoken since a past lifetime. His grandmother was of Chinese origin, he explained, and something in Kun’s stomach warmed and bubbled with comfort.
It grew late quickly. He followed Ten back to his hut that night after the Thai man invited him for tea. He said it was the least he could do for a traveler in need and Kun suddenly realized how much he missed such luxuries since arriving on the island.
Ten had led him through his modest dwelling without much thought or hesitation, offering him a seat on the sole cushion in front of the low table in the kitchen. There was very limited electricity accessible on the island, but Kun remembered Ten wrinkling his nose, sharing that he didn’t have much taste for it as he filled the small teapot from a jug of fresh water and lit the gas stove.
“Darjeeling,” Ten stated, pulling down from a shelf an ornate, painstakingly decorated canister that seemed somewhat out of place among the shabby surroundings. “The champagne of teas.”
Kun was mesmerized watching him. Every movement he made was reminiscent of the way chiffon moved in the wind.
They had their tea, sharing simple but frank conversation across the table in the dim candlelight. Ten inquired as to what brought Kun out to such a detached place, and how long he intended to stay.
“I’m not sure. I just wanted to travel, to see the world,” Kun answered. He was honest. “How long I stay depends.”
Ten propped his chin up in his hand and gazed at him curiously. “Depends on what?”
Kun took one last sip of tea, savoring the expensive taste, before setting down the carved stoneware cup.
“What I see here.”
That night, Ten took Kun to his bed and showed his world to him.
It all happened very quickly, like the sudden cloudbursts that were frequent on the island. And like such rains, the Thai man’s charms were inescapable and unrelenting.
Kun had never experienced such rapture as he had whilst tangled and twisted with Ten’s supple figure. Ten writhed beneath him, nails clawing unforgivingly into flesh but Kun was too captivated with the feeling of his tight heat that seemed to drag him in again and again.
Ten’s voice strained with whines and moans and even exaltations, spouting off in Mandarin until he was too broken to speak anything beyond his mother tongue. Kun remembered the rough snap of his hips, and the way Ten wrapped strong legs around his waist like vines around a tree and spurred him on. He bored into him until Ten’s body was jolting, back curving up off the bed in a sublime arc as pleasure tore through him.
Kun then sunk into the mattress by his side, when the euphoria finally mellowed in warm contentment. Dripping with perspiration in the tropical climate, Ten was illuminated, sparkling in the glow of the full moon pouring in from the window, and Kun thought he was more magnificent than any of the jewels that adorned his body. He was lured under into a deep sleep when his admiration finally succumbed to his exhaustion.
In the morning, Ten was gone. Kun blinked, sitting forward in the bed as the thin sheet slipped down off his torso.
He was about to call out for him when Ten stepped through a rustic curtain of bamboo beads that he hadn’t noticed in the corner of the small room before.
“You must leave,” he said. He looked apologetic, but his tone was firm – he was not inviting questions.
Kun lowered his eyes in disappointment and nodded. Ten disappeared again.
He didn’t have much time to understand it as he gathered his belongings and dressed himself. He walked through the kitchen, retracing his steps from the night before, when Ten met him by the door with an elegant, yellow silk robe now cinched around his body.
“I have business,” Ten mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Kun said, trying to hold back his emotion until he could lick his wounds in private.
“Go east toward the mountain. It will bring you back to your trail and from there, your camp,” Ten guided. He clutched his hands around Kun’s before he turned to leave. “Come back tonight.”
Kun realized it was not so much a question, but a demand. Still, with the way Ten pushed up on his toes to kiss Kun’s cheek, igniting flames from the spot that spread in every direction under his skin, Kun agreed.
It wasn’t until he was well onto his path back to his site that he realized he hadn’t even gotten the beautiful man’s name.
Still, that night, he returned, just as he said he would. The Thai man was simply much too enticing to deny.
When he arrived, Ten had been waiting patiently on his porch, smoking from a long bamboo pipe that seemed to extend the full length of his torso. He exhaled a thick stream of smoke that dissipated slowly into the humid air just as Kun ascended the steps.
“Would you like some?” Ten offered, tilting the pipe in his direction. “It was a gift. The quality is unparalleled.”
Kun politely declined. He hadn’t much experience with such things and preferred not to make a fool of himself. And Ten didn’t seem to mind, only setting the pipe beside the door frame and unfolding himself from his place on the wooden surface.
“Tea?”
He led Kun into his home again, and again, he offered Kun the one cushion at the table while he prepared their tea. Tonight, it was to be jasmine.
“I didn’t get your name,” Kun spoke up as his steamy cup was placed before him.
Ten smiled and sat across from him. He took a piece of charcoal that was left on the table and asked for Kun’s hand. He drew a cross on his palm and Kun examined it, but without success.
“Ten,” the Thai man explained, grinning widely.
“Ah,” Kun said. “Like the number.”
“It would be difficult for you to pronounce my given name. I find this is easier on most tongues,” Ten purred.
There was less conversation that evening. Maybe it was the way Ten’s shoulder kept slipping out of his robe – this one satin, different to the one from the morning – or the way the birds and tree leaves beyond the hut orchestrated such a sultry symphony, but they seemed to make their way into Ten’s bed on the floor more quickly tonight.
This time, Kun found himself spread out on his back, legs pushed wide enough to accommodate Ten’s lithe form between them as oiled digits slipped into place inside him.
Ten had been patient and deliberate, quite unlike the feverish pace of the night before. He wanted to catch every moan that fell from Kun’s lips like drops of honey to melt on his tongue. He was meticulous in working Kun open, fingers carefully moving this way and that, with the tight pants of Kun’s breathing guiding him along.
He eyed Kun’s member, rigid and flush before him. He ghosted the fingers of his other hand over the array of veins that reminded him of the banyan trees on the fringes of the forest.
“May I?” He had asked tentatively.
Kun bit his lip and nodded, even though he knew he surely wouldn’t last very long if he did. He didn’t care.
Ten’s tongue rolled out of his mouth and swiped slowly over the head, licking at the vivid pink of the tip and making Kun shiver. Without hesitation, he wrapped his lips around it and sunk down his length.
He had done so again and again, finding rhythm in time with the drive of his fingers inside Kun’s heat.
The feeling of Ten’s tongue sliding against his length while he was stretched around slender digits had made Kun’s head spin. He couldn’t hold on much longer, feeling like his body was being pulled to its limit and he just needed to snap, to release.
Tears pricked at the edges of Kun’s eyes and his hands fisted into the rich purple sheets. Ten touched him as if already familiar with every dip and curve of his figure – as if he had known Kun’s body for years.
“Ten, I— Ah, Ten, I—”
He strained, tried to get the words out but there was no warning when Ten tightened his throat around him and finally pulled Kun under.
Everything he had spilled down the Thai man’s throat and Kun couldn’t help but watch as he took it reverently, as if receiving a gift from the gods.
When he was satisfied with what he earned, Ten pulled away and sat up. He slowly withdrew his fingers, much to Kun’s displeasure. He was used to the feeling of fullness now.
“It’s very beautiful when you say my name,” he said, palming at Kun’s thigh. His crimson lips glistened with saliva and he’d never looked prettier.
Kun was certain his cheeks were an eruption of pink from more than just the rush of his orgasm because Ten crawled forward, planting his hands on either side of him before leaning down and catching his lip. The bitter taste of himself lingering on the Thai man’s tongue didn’t offend.
“Don’t be shy,” Ten sang in between soft kisses. “You are lovely when you let go, Kun.”
They spent the rest of the night languidly winding together their bodies like they were savoring every movement. Ten thrusting slowly into Kun, breath hot and low against the nape of his neck, and Kun in turn rolling his hips back against him. Ten's palm molded into the crook of traveler’s waist like it was always meant to be there and Kun rattled off countless praises in his name.
Kun remembered that it never seemed to end, cycling through crests and crashes of pleasure until neither had anything left to give.
Ten peppered dozens of kisses onto Kun's damp shoulder and carefully dislodged himself from inside him. He let Kun melt into the bed while he slipped away. He ducked almost silently out of the room, the only noise coming from the jangling of the precious metal charms on his anklets.
Kun's hearing was muffled by an incessant buzzing in his ears, but he thought he heard water hitting a porcelain basin in the distance. His eyes were long closed when the mattress shifted with another's weight again.
A wet cloth touched to the back of his thigh, cool compared to the sweltering air in the room, and he shivered.
"Apologies," Ten mumbled.
He dragged the cloth along Kun's skin, methodically absolving him of the traces of their passion like it was a ritual. If Kun was ever treated so tenderly before, he couldn’t remember it.
When he was finished, he disappeared again but returned within seconds. Fresh cotton was draped over Kun's spent body and he was pulled into Ten's arms. Ten kissed the crown of his head before Kun was lulled to sleep by the soothing thrum of his heartbeat.
///
Kun woke to the pale morning light filtering in past the leaves. This time, Ten was still by his side when he cracked his eyes open, the Thai man's sun-kissed shoulder blades rising and falling peacefully.
He reached out and slid his fingertips over the invitingly smooth skin. Ten stirred, inhaling deeply.
"You're still here today," Kun whispered.
"I am still here today," Ten sighed in return. He rotated himself, limbs stretching and loosening as he did.
Ten’s eyes drifted closed again and Kun studied his features. The curve of his lips was reminiscent of the sharp swishes of ink on the calligraphy prints that lined his walls back home. His nose sloped evenly between his cheekbones, like the bend of a coconut palm rising off the beach. Even closed, his eyes were ethereal – godlike in their ability to hypnotize.
“You are staring at me, Kun,” Ten murmured, the hint of smirk curling at the edge of his lips.
“I am.”
There was no use denying it. Kun’s hand slithered beneath the sheets and roamed across the expanse of Ten’s back until a full smile bloomed on the Thai man’s face.
“Are you hungry?” Ten asked. He trailed his own fingertips down Kun’s torso.
It made Kun growl from low in his chest. He couldn’t resist him, every touch to his body felt like a shot of alcohol was drained directly into his bloodstream. He rolled Ten onto his back and buried his mouth against his neck.
Ten giggled, airy and light before it dissipated.
“That is not the kind of ‘hungry’ I meant,” he laughed before shimmying out from beneath him. “First, food for the weary traveler. You must be famished.”
Kun couldn’t even be upset as Ten tiptoed away into the kitchen, because now that he thought about it, his stomach felt horribly empty. He hadn’t much food back at his camp and he hadn’t been into the small village to replenish in a few days.
He listened to the familiar twinkling of thousands of grains poured into a pan, and the swish of water to rinse them, before a match was struck for the stove.
After that, there was the distinct sound of steel hacking through something fibrous. There must’ve been less than a dozen clean slices – like those of a practiced hand – before Ten was walking back through the doorway to the bedroom.
He had slipped into some linen pants while he was gone and now held a fresh baby coconut in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. The utensil had a remarkably ornate handle, inlaid with several colored stones.
Ten settled cross-legged onto the bed beside Kun’s reclined form. He presented the coconut to Kun first, telling him to drink the water and restore himself. And Kun did as he was told, taking several long sips under Ten’s watchful eye, before passing it back to him to finish.
Though there wasn’t much, they shared the silky meat of the coconut like they shared the water, Ten forgoing some of his half to ensure Kun got enough to regain some of his strength.
“There is rice on the stove, and more coconut, if you would like it,” Ten said, setting the scraped and devoured husk to the side. “What will you do today, Kun?”
Kun blinked back at him. He hadn’t thought that far. He should probably go into town, but he didn’t particularly want to. He should probably return to his camp, but that felt boring as well.
“I’m not sure,” he said honestly.
Ten hummed, examining the bed before cocking a playful eyebrow.
“Good. Then you may help me clean up this mess,” he simpered.
Kun followed his gaze, noticing the smudges of black on the sheets from where his hand with Ten’s name written in charcoal had gripped into the sheets. He could see the faint hints of black ash marking a few places on Ten’s body now, too.
“I did not tell you to write on me,” Kun chuckled, and Ten’s eyes glittered.
“Apologies. It’s a habit.” Ten bowed his head in penance but his smirk told a different story. He unfolded his legs and slid one over Kun’s waist until he was sitting flush against his pelvis. He leaned forward and caught Kun’s lips with a feathery touch. “Before we leave, may I ask: are you still hungry?”
They came together twice more before they were sated, finally stumbling their way out of the battered bed on jellied legs.
Ten first took him to a stream nearby where they collected fresh water. Behind his hut, there was already a large tub in place. They washed the bed linens, and then Ten’s garments, as well. Kun marveled at the juxtaposition of his plain cottons beside his richly patterned and fine fabrics.
Ten praised him for his efforts, lacing his wet, pruney fingers with Kun’s once they were finished. Something pricked Kun’s ears, a voice calling through the dense cluster of trees. It grew in volume and Kun couldn’t understand the words it was carrying, but Ten turned towards it in recognition. He circled to the front entrance with Kun in tow.
A boy came jogging up to the bungalow. He looked like a local child, one of the many Kun had observed in the village playing pick-up games of soccer or hide-and-seek. He spoke to Ten in Thai, much too quickly and dialectic for Kun to be able to understand.
Ten appeared to thank him for his message before scurrying up the steps to his home. He came back with a few mangoes that had no doubt fallen from one of the trees around his home. For his trouble, Ten loaded up the small boy’s arms and tousled his hair before he sent the child on his way.
Kun quirked an eyebrow and opened his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue, but Ten beat him to it.
“Come to town with me?”
They traipsed through the brush, the undergrowth threatening to swallow their feet before they made it onto the cleared path to the island’s central village. Here, there were a few shops where one could purchase a limited selection of amenities. The small marketplace that offered fresh fish, meat, and a plethora of vegetation had closed for the day already. There were several rustic restaurants, most run out of the kitchens of grandmothers’ homes.
It was bustling at this hour, when lights dotted the buildings and the air cooled to a more comfortable temperature. Kun followed Ten to a building he recognized well. It was the information center, the hub of all the island’s news and activities.
Ten broke with Kun only once they were at the entrance. He told Kun to wait, that he would only be a moment, and then he would take him to his favorite restaurant. Kun agreed, relaxing his shoulder against the rough exterior of the building.
He waited, but peeked through the windows. Ten was speaking to the man at the front desk. He was tall and muscular, skin baked warmly from the sun. If Kun had to guess, he would say he probably taught some kind of diving course to the few tourists who visited.
Kun watched Ten reach across and lift the sleeve of the other’s t-shirt, revealing a heavily-detailed design inked on his shoulder. It looked fresh, still healing over. Ten ran his fingers over the art, inspecting it before smiling – and Kun ashamedly swallowed down the jealousy that began to churn in his gut. The other then lowered his sleeve and passed Ten a message across his desk, which he read carefully before requesting to use the establishment’s telephone.
Ten strolled out a few minutes later and linked hands with Kun once more.
“Is everything alright?” Kun questioned.
“Of course. Just some business I must attend to tomorrow,” Ten cooed, but there was a flash of something heavy in his eyes before he turned his attention down the road. “Come. I think you’ll enjoy this.”
It was a curious exchange, Kun thought. Then again everything about Ten was curious – yet Kun asked no questions. Thinking back, he wonders if maybe he should have.
\\\
Kun knew he wasn’t the only one whom Ten served, and he learned that very quickly.
He spent most of his days and all of his evenings by Ten’s side. It was startlingly easy to fall into step with him, and he often felt like he already knew Ten for a thousand years.
Ten took him to the most splendid spots around the island and showed him how to sip the nectar out of the honeysuckle flowers. Kun thought it tasted nearly as sweet on his tongue as Ten did.
They swam together in the ocean and stretched out their bodies to dry on the hot sand. Sometimes they would walk hand-in-hand to a small pond buried in the jungle, just to admire the dozens of water lilies that crowded the surface.
Ten would slice up fresh mangoes and peel dragon fruits for Kun, thankful to have someone to feed them to so such things would not go to waste.
And Ten taught Kun how to form his mouth around his given name, as well as other Thai words and phrases that he thought might be particularly pretty falling from Kun’s lip. Ever generous, Ten gifted him plenty of opportunities to practice such lovely sentiments after dark.
In the evenings, Kun would help make rice in the old crock while Ten cooked dishes of spicy vegetables or sometimes fish, when he could get it.
They always had their tea before retiring for the evening. Ten’s bed became their bed, and it felt as natural as breathing. Their union became more ravenous over time, and Ten’s body only grew riper each night like fruit begging to be picked.
Kun was enthralled with the Thai man. He had all but abandoned his camp for Ten’s bungalow. And yet every time Ten had ‘business,’ he was firmly sent on his way.
Kun tried to inquire about Ten’s work, about what he did for a living and how he had such extravagant possessions, but Ten always found a way to divert the conversation to something he deemed more suitable. Kun also prodded him about the room beyond the beaded curtain, but Ten would simply say everyone is entitled to some privacy and Kun promptly bit his tongue.
On the seventh or eighth such occasion when Kun was sent away, he left but didn’t go far. He strayed enough from the abode that he would not get caught, but close enough that he could see something – anything .
He peeked through a break in the lush foliage and watched as a man walked the steps up to the bungalow, holding something daintily wrapped in his hands. Ten greeted him, stepping over the threshold of his home and bowing in respect. His body was wrapped in handsomely dyed silk, befitting a form as striking as his.
Ten ushered the man inside and that was the last thing Kun saw for a few hours. He was nearly lulled to sleep in the sweet hanging heat as he rested against the trunk of a tree, but then he heard the unmistakable creak of Ten’s front door.
He squinted against the fading daylight. Ten was disheveled, cheeks flushed and slick hair out of place as he struggled to tug the robe around his shoulders again. The other man thanked him profusely, pressing his palms together and lowering his torso 90-degrees. Ten bowed again, though not as lowly as the other, and appeared to point out the directions to return to where he came from. The visitor grinned brightly, like a man relieved, and Ten watched him as he made his way.
Kun kept his eyes fixed on Ten. Suddenly, the Thai man collapsed against his door frame, his smile dissolving as tears rolled down his smooth cheeks. His chest heaved as his weeping grew more violent and he dug the heels of his palms into his cheekbones in a vain effort to stop the flow of tears.
Kun’s heart sank at the sight. This side of Ten had been well-concealed until now.
By the time he had finished purging his sobs, the sun had long set. Ten straightened up, stabilizing himself on his bare feet.
He turned in Kun’s direction, a cutting look in his eyes. Kun shrunk himself back in his spot.
“You may come out now, Kun,” Ten called before pivoting and trudging back inside his home.
Kun swallowed roughly. He felt frozen, stuck to the ground like his body had put down roots. He had upset Ten and he greatly feared the consequences of that mistake.
He summoned the courage to find his feet and tiptoed to his hut again, as if afraid to disturb even the earth surrounding it.
When he made his way up the groaning steps and into the doorway, he could see Ten in the bedroom, shedding his garment and painstakingly folding it.
“Sit.”
Kun meekly entered the kitchen and rounded the table to settle onto his usual cushion.
“Not there,” Ten snapped, glancing over his bare shoulder. “That is for my honored guests only.”
Kun slumped into place on the unforgiving hardwood on the other side of the table as Ten returned to the kitchen.
Ten lowered himself onto the cushion and set a few items before him. He didn’t bother to look up at Kun.
“Your honor is now in question,” Ten added quietly.
Kun ached, knowing he hurt Ten. But he was upset, too. Ten had kept something clearly important from him.
But he waited for Ten to speak again. This was his home, after all.
And Ten took his time. He was mute for a long time, mouth pulled into a tight line as he rolled some dull green herb into brown paper. He sealed the roll with a slow drag of his tongue and that alone made Kun’s mouth water.
Ten stuck it between his lips and grabbed the matchbook beside him, lighting a flame before singing the end of the roll. He took a long inhale, releasing a swirl of earth-scented smoke before he finally fixed his eyes on the other.
“What do you think you saw today?”
Kun looked into his glassy eyes, still red-rimmed and devoid of their usual mirth. He cleared his throat and hoped his voice didn’t betray him too much.
“I saw a man arrive here, with some kind of object. Maybe a gift, or—”
“I said, tell me what you saw, not what you assume.”
Kun paused as Ten fired smoke from flared nostrils, evoking the image of one very unamused little dragon. He started again.
“I saw a man arrive here, with some kind of object,” he said cautiously. “He was welcomed into your home, stayed for several hours, then left.”
Ten was silent, save for the low burn of whatever he was smoking. The haze was beginning to compound in the tight space, stinging Kun’s eyes.
“Continue,” Ten said after a minute or so.
“And you wept,” Kun mumbled.
Ten leaned his elbows onto the table. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because...you were ruined.”
Kun tried to choose his words with care and empathy, but it seemed he had failed when Ten’s eyes narrowed into sharp, guarded lines.
“Is that what you think, Kun? That if I was touched by another, then I would become ruined?”
Heat crept up under Kun’s collar and a knot formed in his throat. He felt helpless. “No, that’s not— But, it looked like—”
“I know what it looked like,” Ten bit before turning away toward the window. The leaves blowing in the breeze were nothing but silhouettes now. “But you don’t know what you saw.”
Kun was not one for cryptic discussion. He didn’t care to dance around a topic on delicate feet. He wanted the air cleared. So he sat up straight, throwing his shoulders back.
“Chittaphon, if you do this for a living, then so be it,” he declared. “But I care that you wouldn’t trust me enough tell me.”
The Thai man blinked slowly before lowering his eyes to the table, examining the same old ringed water stain that had been set in for years.
“I’ve shared my bed with you for an entire summer and you believe that I do not trust you,” he murmured. He pulled a thick puff into his lungs before rising from his seat. “If you must know what I do, then follow me and I will show you.”
Ten padded into the bedroom and Kun heard the twinkle of the bamboo beads. He scrambled to his feet but was lightheaded, following Ten’s path on shaky legs.
Was he wrong? Had he misunderstood?
In his bedroom, Ten stood, holding the curtain of beads aside. What Kun saw, he didn’t understand immediately. Long rods, as thin a sea urchin spines. Some made of steel, others bamboo – all miserably sharp and smudged with black at the tips. A whiff of incense still hung in the air. As if standing guard, lavishly gilded idols, from all religions and cultures far and wide, crowded the few shelves on the wall. And in contrast, dirty cloth rags dabbed with ink were scattered unceremoniously around a cushioned mat on the floor.
“What is all this?”
Ten stepped into the room and Kun followed him.
He bent down to pick up one of his tools from the ground before examining the sharp spear. “Do you believe in magic, Kun?”
Kun stared at Ten. Beams of moonlight strained in through the window and lit his slim figure as wisps of smoke bent around him. Even in the faint light, he could see Ten's sharp eyes peering at him from across the room. Ten always seemed like such an ancient soul residing in this body. And Kun thought, how could he not believe in magic when Ten existed?
So he nodded, listening fervently, ready to hang onto every word.
“I practice an art of tattooing that is steeped in divine magic,” Ten continued. “It can be many things for the one who receives the ink. A blessing, a spell of protection, a cleansing ritual...”
He held out the long rod to Kun, who took in wary hands.
“So, this is what you do,” Kun said. He squinted at the sharp point. “You...tattoo.”
He had seen some of the art Ten created, with everything from tiny stubs of charcoal to heavily-pigmented paints he would make from flowers he found. His art was always transformative and moving, so a path like this made sense to him.
“It is far more complicated than that,” Ten sighed. “Since the time of my ancestors, my family has had the gift of being able see into a soul, to feel beyond that which can be seen with the naked eye. It's a magic given from the heavens. For generations, we have been sought out, often by the sick and the cursed and the tortured – by those in need of saving. So...we save them.”
Kun said nothing, only furrowing his eyebrows, so he carried on.
“I came into my gift early and my mother taught me how to create the sacred tattoos when I was just a boy. I came to live out here many years ago for the peace it afforded me to work,” Ten continued. He began to shuffle out of the room, pushing past the beaded curtain once more. Kun followed and settled down onto the bed beside Ten. The Thai man lowered his voice after another inhale. “The ritual is very intimate, and it can be exhausting and even painful – to touch someone and extricate whatever evil is tangled with their spirit.”
“I imagine it must be very difficult to endure this on your own,” Kun said delicately.
“It is. Sometimes, it becomes too much, and I…”
He trailed off and it fell quiet for a moment as more tears pooled in Ten's eyes. He stared straight ahead, not daring to look at Kun for fear that he might break entirely if he met his pitying gaze.
“I… I had no idea,” Kun frowned.
“You are correct about that at least.” Ten huffed out a bitter laugh. “The work is sacred and it is private.”
“Why could you not at least tell me? I would have understood.”
“I’m not sure you would have,” Ten answered, picking hopelessly at the ink that stained his fingernails. He couldn’t help the cracks in his voice now. “Many in the past have not.”
Kun reached out and softly brushed his knuckles over the other's smooth cheek. Ten didn't move, didn't tilt away like Kun expected him to. It was like he couldn't bring himself to separate.
“Forgive me, Chittaphon,” he said gently, hand curling towards Ten's studded ear. “But is that what I am to be to you? Just another pearl in a long, long strand?”
Ten now leaned into his touch, forcing Kun's fingers into his locks. A small whimper escaped from his throat and he finally crumbled.
“No. You are far more special than that,” he breathed, eyes fluttering closed. “Since you arrived, you are the only one in my heart, Qian Kun.”
Kun shivered at those words. He had seen Ten dressed down to nothing, crying and praying and begging at his hands – but he had never witnessed such vulnerability as this from the Thai man.
Ten brought the rolled cigarette to his lips once more.
“The second night you visited me, I made jasmine tea. Jasmine flowers represent love – not just sexual love, as many incorrectly assume – but, love from here.” His throat was raspy as he explained, pressing his palm to his bare chest over his heart. “Jasmine means ‘gift from God.’ You are a gift to me. And I have known my feelings from the start.”
A tear rolled down Kun’s cheek before he even recognized its formation along his lash-line, having been too rapt by the emotion in the other’s voice. He took one of Ten's hands and pressed his lips to the knuckles in a chaste offering.
“Forgive me,” Kun repeated. “Can I make it up to you, my beloved?”
Ten turned, something wild sparkling deep in his tired eyes. “Show me that you trust me.”
Kun knew he wasn’t the only one whom Ten served, but he was certainly the only one who served him.
There was no tea brewed that night. No comfortable conversation as per routine.
Ten was unrelenting with Kun. He brought him to the precipice of his limits, to the point where his body couldn't hold on any longer, only to drag him back down to the depths over and over until he wept and pleaded for release.
Ten's hand crept up towards Kun's neck while the other rested firmly around the base of his length. He already had Kun’s leg pulled up over his shoulder, rolling his hips to a dreadfully slow beat only he could hear. Ten seemed to enjoy contorting him, bending him to his will, so Kun let him. It was the least he could do.
“The moment we met, I found your spirit so pure and enchanting,” Ten admired, marveling at an aura Kun couldn’t see. “I promise to hold it carefully in my hand.”
Kun knew what to say or do if he wanted to stop, but he didn't. He never did. He wanted to make things up to him, to show Ten that he trusted him with his life.
So he only sniffled and nodded, letting Ten press his fingers into the flesh beneath his jaw. He was dazed, his mind already clouded from the sticky exhales Ten had blown into his mouth – and he understood why Ten would smoke such a thing after a strenuous evening.
Ten's mercy, when finally granted, was forceful and otherworldly. Kun was certain his soul must have jumped from his body but he was pulled back to earth by the other's tender kisses that dotted his cheeks and seemed to clear away the wet tracks of his tears.
"Are you here with me?" Ten asked when he slid down onto the mattress beside him.
It took him a moment but managed to croak out the words, "I'm here."
Ten didn't rise to retrieve a cloth to clean him up right away. Instead, he remained curled around his limp form, fingers tracing along the contours of his body like he was memorizing the feeling.
Kun observed him affectionately. There was nothing prettier than the man at his side, he was convinced. Ten was dazzling inside and out. He really didn't need all the opulent accouterments he wore. He would love Ten even if he had nothing of luxury in this little hut of his.
He lazily reached for Ten's hand and held it up, specifically examining the shining silver circled on his fingers. He never did learn why he had such jewelry for a man who lives as he does.
"May I ask, how did you come to have these precious things?" Kun murmured. "We stay in this little bungalow, yet you're always bedecked with jewels and expensive fabrics."
Ten twisted one of the rings around his finger with the pad of his thumb.
"The cost of my labor is steep," he sighed. "I am not paid in currency, but in objects of great importance to the client. It helps me to open the connection.”
Ten tugged at the gold chain around his neck until the carved pendant was dangling before their eyes.
"This, for example, was given by a visitor all the way from northern Mexico. It had been in her family for many generations. I often receive heirlooms," he explained, lowering the gemstone to his chest again. "It is about the sentimental value of the sacrifice."
Kun nodded in understanding, but turned to the kitchen, thinking.
“If you make no money, then how do you buy your rice?”
Ten sniffed and propped his head up on his hand.
“I’ve brought many visitors to the island. Visitors spend money, and for that, the locals take care of me,” he said, a cheeky smile beginning to tug at his lips. “You could say I am...an attraction.”
Kun laughed sleepily. “You are certainly that, Chittaphon.”
Ten cocked an eyebrow. “And you think you are not?”
The Thai man pushed himself up and caged Kun beneath his arms before pecking his forehead, his nose, and his lips.
“You are exquisite,” Ten breathed. He trailed wet kisses down the length of his body, stopping to nibble and lick at the flesh he cherished so passionately. “Divinity in form.”
Kun felt awakened once more. Every kiss from Ten was like a shock of electricity, jumpstarting his senses all over again.
Ten took Kun’s hand and pressed his lips to the tips of his fingers.
“I have never been so captivated by a touch as I am yours,” he said, smirking playfully. “These hands alone may be as magical as I am.”
His heart fluttered at the way Kun blushed all over, and he kissed every bloom of pink as he made his way up his body once more.
“You must know how deeply you are adored. You are my finest treasure, Qian Kun,” he continued, kissing the other’s rosy cheek. “And I can assure you, there is nothing in this world as resplendent as your soul.”
Kun giggled, chewing his lip as his sweet praises washed over him.
When Ten was satisfied that Kun was recovered, he finally made his way to the other room to prepare a cloth for cleaning. Ten cared for him as always before Kun fell asleep in his warm arms.
///
Kun sat on a small chair on Ten’s porch while the Thai man hovered behind him. He attempted to read one of the many crumbling books that rested in the stacks in Ten's bedroom, with the thick drops of rain on the roof and the velvety slice of shears providing a relaxing background melody.
“Your hair is quite overgrown,” Ten had pointed out that morning. The Thai man forecasted storms, and determined that it would be a good day for a trim since their usual outdoor activities would be rained out.
Kun had been nervous about letting Ten cut his hair, but there was little use crossing his stubborn other-half anyway. At least it was soothing to feel his fingers raking along his scalp again and again as he snipped the hair to his liking.
Kun periodically turned to him for help with translations of words he didn't recognize, and Ten would scold him for moving before enlightening him. He always smiled proudly at the foreigner’s interest.
“Finished,” he announced, ruffling the freshly pruned locks. “That’s much better.”
The rain dwindled to a drizzle and the drone of the mosquitoes was beginning to grow when Ten set down the scissors and brushed off his cramping hands. He crossed the porch and darted into the house, but only for a brief moment, returning with a bowl full of ingredients.
“I helped you,” he declared matter-of-factly. “Now you help me.”
He sat cross-legged on the wooden planks, stone bowl nestled in the crook of his legs. He thoroughly ground down a few herbs while Kun stirred the charcoal ash and alcohol mixture that would become his ink.
"So when will you mark me?"
Ten considered the question quite warily, eyes fixed on his pestle.
"It can be quite painful, my darling," he warned. "You would not enjoy it."
"I wouldn't expect to. Yet I still wish for a blessing from the great Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul," Kun countered with a hopeful smirk.
A somber smile worked its way onto his lips at the flawless pronunciation of his birth name. It sounded just right on Kun's tongue and he ducked his head further to hide his blush.
"Do I not bless you enough each and every night?"
Now it was Kun's turn to feel the heat simmer in his cheeks. Still, he scooted a little closer and tipped Ten’s chin up.
"Will you not do it?" he pouted, and Ten couldn’t stand the sight.
He took a deep inhale of fresh air into his lungs to clear his head before glancing away to the forest.
"The price is dear," he stated.
"Anything you want," Kun offered. "Anything. It will be yours."
The wind rustled up the foliage surrounding the hut, blowing a pair of water lily petals onto the surface by their feet. They must’ve strayed quite far from their home in the pond before arriving here and Ten eyed them intently, chewing his lip. He watched them swirl around each other in the breeze, and thought it would be nice if they could remain like this, dancing together until the end of time.
"Your heart?” Ten asked timidly. “Your freedom?”
Kun turned the Thai man's face toward him and slotted their lips together.
“They are yours.”
Three days later, Ten lit a stick of incense – nag champa, to sanctify the space, he said – and set it on a burner on the floor. He laid out fresh linen on a cushioned mat and neatly lined up his set of instruments and a pool of ink beside it.
He beckoned Kun through the curtain.
"What will it look like?” Kun asked as the other helped peel off his shirt.
“I cannot say – I never know before I start my work,” Ten hummed. “But it will take quite a long time. Are you sure you want this?”
“Of course.”
Ten circled around him, lips pursed. He tried reading Kun for a hint of uncertainty or disquiet, but was left wanting.
Ten guided him to sit, where the bright afternoon light would shine over his skin. There were two bowls set on the ground before him, one with leaves, the other with hunks of sticky fruit.
“Kratom. Chew it for the pain, if you need it,” he clarified. “And mango, for its bitterness.”
He pulled up a stool behind him, quietly kissed the top of Kun’s spine, and began.
How long it took from start to finish was lost on Kun. He followed the shadow of the window pane across the wall until it began to fade, and Ten had to stop and turn on a small lamp that sizzled in the corner.
He grew accustomed to the rhythmic pricking of the needles in his skin. After the first hundred or so sticks of the reed, he was numb to the feeling. It helped that every now and again Ten would periodically hum sweet melodies or sing some archaic hymn that distracted him from any lingering pain.
It wasn’t until they could hear the nightjars stirring in the trees that Ten sat back and lowered his tools.
“That is enough for today.”
When Kun twisted around, Ten looked exhausted, eyelids hanging heavy and sweat beading along his forehead.
On this night, Kun took care of Ten. He made a supper of papaya salad with a hearty serving of rice while Ten rested in bed. The process had taken too much out of him and left him drained and drowsy. Kun held him close to his chest and lovingly spoon-fed him until the bowl was empty.
Ten had a hard time keeping his eyes open, but he had enough energy to playfully chide Kun for not adding enough chilies before drifting off to sleep.
It was the first moon they let pass in abstinence.
There were two more sessions before Ten was able to complete his work, each more arduous than the last. He worked tirelessly, canvassing the entirety of Kun’s back with his divine art. And Kun felt his grace and protection imbued with every stick of the needle.
Ten cried when he finished – not in anguish or pain, but in bliss. It was his most profound and holy composition, and it now decorated the skin of his beloved.
He took Kun into the bedroom and spread him along the mattress. He straddled Kun's hips, ardently massaging oil and drops of myrrh resin into his healing skin.
Kun craned to peek over his shoulder. His eyes tilted down as he tried to catch a glimpse of the marks in his skin and Ten loved the way his eyelashes fanned along his cheeks. He smiled.
“Be still,” Ten cooed. “I will show you once I finish the consecration.”
Kun settled with a sigh, feeling as Ten sketched indiscernible shapes over his skin with his fingers and spoke some formal benediction in a tongue Kun didn’t know. Ten took a full, hearty breath and exhaled warmly over Kun’s back before sliding off of him.
“It’s done.” He tugged at Kun’s elbow, guiding him up. “Come and see.”
Ten pulled him through to the washroom and faced him away from the mirror. He held up a second looking glass and let Kun find the right angle to view his work.
“I poured much of myself into this,” Ten hummed, tracing his fingers along one of the many whimsical scriptures, this one carved just below his ribcage. “There are layers upon layers of protective magic – an amulet for this life, and each one that follows. It is the highest blessing I can provide.”
Kun had no words, instead only gaping at the heavenly array of icons and geometry and script that almost seemed to shift and move as if enchanted.
“Don’t you like it?” Ten asked anxiously, nibbling his lip.
Kun lowered the small mirror and set it aside. Tears filled his eyes as he took Ten’s face in his hands.
“It’s perfect,” Kun breathed. “Just like you.”
His lips moved gingerly against Ten’s, but there was an underlying hunger that demanded to be satisfied. He fell to his knees in front of the other, as if in worship before an altar. Because that’s what being with Ten felt like – serving the shrine of a gentle but potent god.
Kun parted the ivory chiffon of Ten’s robe and pushed it aside, placing a kiss low on the Thai man’s midriff.
“You’re still healing,” Ten said through stuttering breaths. He gripped the edge of the small soaking tub behind him for stability. “You really must take it easy tonight, my love.”
“I will,” Kun promised, smoothing his thumbs over the points of Ten’s hip bones before hooking his fingers into the waistband of shorts. “Once I am finished my duty of prayer.”
Kun listened to him, but only after he had Ten chanting his name, with oil-slicked fingers curled into his hair.
They settled in early, not long after sunset, and their bed remained unruffled.
“How should I receive payment for my service?” Ten asked suddenly, brushing his toes absentmindedly against the other’s.
Kun chuckled against Ten’s chest and it tickled his skin.
“My heart is yours, and I will never leave,” he vowed. “You may affirm that promise however you see fit.”
Ten smiled and held up his hand. He chose one ring – a wide silver band, antiqued with age and set with an emerald stone – and plucked it from his finger, leaving behind a pale line where his skin had darkened around it from the sun.
He lifted Kun’s hand from its place near his collarbone and slipped the ring onto his fourth finger. Ten revered many customs and traditions, but he decided he needed no one else to declare them joined together.
“This will do for now,” Ten announced. He kissed the jewel before laying his hand to rest once more.
Kun beamed, leaving kiss after kiss against Ten’s neck, jaw, and lips until the Thai man forced him to retreat.
“You are like a greedy little puppy,” Ten giggled, smoothing over Kun’s hair. “But you need sleep. Kiss me again in the morning.”
\\\
Kun made good on his word, remaining in his rightful place by the Thai man’s side on the island where they served each other well.
Three years later, Ten made an addition to the markings on Kun’s body and for the first time, he pierced ink into his own skin as well.
“Seems very simple,” Kun had said, studying his wrist that was now embellished with a basic circle of red, the shape only half filled in. It was his one and only tattoo in color, and it was quite unlike the elaborate art on his back.
“Not everything important must be intricate and complex, Kunkun,” Ten had countered teasingly, dipping a new steel spear into red ink and wincing as it drove into his skin. “It is only to ensure our souls don’t get lost in the next life.”
Ten might have been mystical and untamed, but he was also quite shrewd – and Kun trusted his word as always. He took great solace in believing that they would walk together again until the end of time.
The pair filled the rest of this lifetime to the brim with love and memories. They traveled together, taking many trips to the mainland and even some countries beyond. Kun would marvel at the modern and ancient sites alike, and Ten would too, until he yearned and itched to be back on the island.
“Why do you agree to come if it bothers you so?” Kun would ask, watching Ten strip himself of his more socially-acceptable attire the moment they arrived home.
“I am as bound to you as you are to me. Where you go, I go,” Ten would sigh, stretching out along their bed and enveloping himself in the familiar comfort. “Besides, if it was not for the noise of the rest of the world, we would never appreciate the quiet of our home.”
Home. Their home.
And in their home, Ten still did his work. And Kun still left him to it, usually taking the time to tend the garden he planted behind the hut, or go into the village to get something nice for Ten to eat when he was finished.
Leaving his former life wasn’t as frightening as Kun imagined. He kept in touch with his parents, but the past seemed distant and bland now, while life with Ten was vibrant and alive. And the locals graciously welcomed Kun’s permanent residence on the island, relieved that the gifted but withdrawn artist finally had someone to keep him company.
Kun felt secure for the rest of his days. No harm befell him, save for the natural wear and tear of age.
“You are mine and I will always keep you safe,” Ten would say, brushing his fingertips over the cracks that etched themselves around Kun’s eyes. “But even I cannot stop time.”
They grew old with one another. Their bones creaked like the hinges on the door that they never remembered to oil, and their dark locks faded into smoky white. Climbing the steps up to the hut became a hassle for Kun. Ten’s vision began to desert him, after many years of working in poor light, and he was forced to abandon his tools.
The son of the Thai man’s sister came to live with them. He stayed for nearly two years, and Ten taught him everything he knew about the craft. In turn, he helped them for the duration of his stay, fixing up parts of the bungalow that were crumbling with time and running the errands that they struggled to keep up with.
But eventually, the nephew had to depart. Life became slower, and harder, day by day.
Soon, Ten had no sight at all. His radiant, rich brown irises clouded over and Kun became his eyes from then on – though his vision was beginning to wane, as well. The Thai man took to resting in bed, when rising from the mattress on the floor was just too much of a difficulty. Ten said he didn’t mind – as long as Kun could sit by his side, reading books to him or helping him sip his tea, he was content.
“Do you remember the evening we met? By the waterfall?” Ten asked weakly one afternoon, after a meager sip of jasmine tea. A sentimental smile pulled at his lips as his empty eyes stared out into nothing.
“I could never forget,” Kun whispered from beside him, setting down the stone cup on the floorboards.
Ten turned his hand over, resting it atop the colorful knit blanket on the bed. “Will you tell me about it, Kunkun?”
Kun eyed the half circle on the other’s wrist, the scarlet having faded into coral with time. He laced his fingers with Ten’s and painted the picture for his beloved once again. He didn’t mind how many times Ten requested to hear it. He would tell him again and again until his voice was gone and he couldn’t speak another word.
When he was finished, Ten blinked a tear out of his eye. He always did.
“Such a silly boy, following a strange recluse in the forest back to his home,” Ten chuckled warmly. “No wonder you were given me to protect and love.”
“I was a fool for you then,” Kun said, squeezing his hand. “Perhaps I still am.”
Ten reached out for Kun’s cheek, to which Kun guided his wandering hand.
“There are a million ways to profess one’s affection and I believe we have done them all, Kun,” he smiled. A tear ran down Kun’s cheek and wet his fingertips. “Next time, we will try a million more.”
Much like he arrived, Ten passed from him on a sizzling summer evening.
After that, the villagers checked in on Kun nearly everyday, bringing dishes of fragrant rice and desperate pleas to abandon the bungalow and move to town where he could be looked after. But too much of his life with Ten was steeped into the walls here – he could never leave.
Kun was lonesome but comforted by the melodies of a small bulbul that nested in the tree beyond the window not long after Ten left. The red-cheeked songbird would sit on the sill and sing him awake every morning for three more months until the hut fell into silence and Kun departed, too.
He remembered his journey from this world to the next. It was peaceful as he was whisked from his mortal form, his spirit entering a shimmering world of white.
It was relaxing but barren and empty – until a hand reached toward him out of nothing. Bright, silver rings adorned each beautiful finger and beaded bracelets slid away to reveal red ink stamped into precious, youthful skin.
Kun took the hand and was pulled into a familiar embrace.
“I missed you,” Ten’s voice whispered in his ear. “Thank you for following me again.”
~