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Kinn takes a deep breath in, holding it for a moment before releasing it quietly. His day has been long, much longer than he had intended when he left the house this morning, but it was important to save face. This close to the massacre that was the minor family attack, any hint of weakness from him would be seen as blood in the water, even something as small as a mistimed sigh.
Kinn lets his mind wander as the SUV eats up the scant miles between him and home. The banyan trees are just starting to flower, bright yellow petals standing out amongst the general greenery of the city.
It all flows by Kinn.
Going by the dull ache throbbing at the back of his head, he'd benefit from an early night tonight. A good night's sleep to wash off the tension that's been crawling through him the last few days. He closes his eyes, relaxing back into the seat and lets his mind drift. He can't help but wonder what Porsche is doing. It's been a couple of days since Kinn has seen more of him than an occasional text message. That thought causes a painful lurch somewhere in his chest. Kinn lets out another careful non-sigh and tries to put Porsche out of his head. They're both busy, they're both trying their best to survive.
"Sir? We're here," the driver's deep baritone startles Kinn, pulling him back to the present. His door is opening before he can reach for it.
"Good afternoon, Khun Kinn," Ananya greets, stepping back from the car and into a wai.
Kinn tugs the button on his jacket free as he steps from the vehicle. Ananya hands him a tablet as she grabs the documents laying abandoned on the backseat. In the aftermath of the attack, lots of new positions needed to be filled. Ananya had been languishing in security for one of the Theerapanyakul casinos picking out card counters, smarter than every one of her bosses and being punished for it. Arm had brought her in. She's been instrumental in keeping the clan afloat and him sane.
"What new catastrophe has befallen us now?" He asks, swiping through the emails on the tablet.
"The Romsaithong heir tested positive for COVID and will need to reschedule your 3 pm tomorrow. No other changes." She says lightly.
Kinn hums as he walks through the atrium, attention mostly on the tablet. That's probably why it takes him so long to notice.
It's late afternoon but still early in the day for the household. The building should still be crawling with off-duty guards finding ways to entertain themselves, but apart from those on duty, the place is suspiciously empty.
"Ananya, where is everyone?" He asks idly. It's pure curiosity until he catches sight of the uncomfortable grimace she makes in response to his question.
Kinn frowns, brows furrowing as he turns to face her fully. "I'll not ask again," he continues, letting a hint of ice drift around the edge of his words.
Her eyes widen momentarily before she sets her jaw, clearly deciding to just come out with it.
"Khun Kim is home,"
Kinn waits for her to continue. She doesn't.
"And he stole all our guards?"
"He came in with Khun Porsche… they decided to have a training session… in the gardens."
Kinn's expression slides into shocked confusion. Training session? In the gardens? What the hell?
***********************
Ananya spits out the rest of the story as they make their way to the terrace. She isn't sure where Porsche and Kim were, but when they entered the compound it was with the black cloud his little brother seems to carry so well. Shortly thereafter they decided to spar, ostensibly to 'improve Kim's mood'.
He doesn't have to ask whose idea that was. The only question he has is why Kim agreed to let Porsche use him as a punching bag.
Kinn fully expects to see Porsche wiping the floor with the asshole he believes broke his brother's heart as he approaches the gardens. Kinn isn't in the habit of fighting Kim's battles for him, but he figures he can at least pull his boyfriend off whatever war path he's clearly decided on. He's therefore not surprised to round the corner as Kim goes down to his knees after what looks like a particularly cheap shot to his lower abdomen. What is surprising though is the general air of animated pleasure emanating from Porsche, very different from the sleek violence he usually carries with his anger.
"Come on, littlest Kinn. I expected more from you after that show you put on." Porsche goads. He's lost his shirt and his shoes, wearing nothing but a pair of expensive Italian slacks that aren't really ideal for sparring, but make him a fucking sight to behold as he bounces on his toes, a dangerous smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"What fucking show?" Kim hisses, getting back on his feet as he eyes Porsche, carefully staying out of range of his long limbs.
"There are cameras in Yok's bar, you know. You thought I wouldn't have questions when Chay called to tell me there were bodies needing to be cleaned up and he had no idea how they got there?" Porsche pauses with a head tilt as he eyes Kim curiously. "You know, we had a stray cat that used to leave him gifts just like that,"
Kim's face does something that looks painful and mean, then he's moving, almost faster than Kinn's eyes can track. He swings hard at Porsche, who sidesteps the left hook, right into the jab that Kim throws at him. Kim steps in, hand wrapping around the back of Porsche's neck as he pulls him down into his right knee.
Porsche blocks the hit at the last moment, stepping into Kim and grabbing his leg before he flings him bodily to the ground with a jaunty little hop and that smirk he knows makes people want to hurt him.
"Aww, kitty's got sharp claws." He mocks.
Kim sighs, shaking his arms out in a calculated show of boredom. "Do you ever shut up? Here I thought you asked me to spar to teach me a lesson,"
"You trying to say you aren't learning from your betters right now?" Porsche replies, tongue peeking out to press against the jail of his top teeth, and then he's moving and it's breathtaking.
Kinn hasn't really been able to just watch Porsche fight hand to hand when he's actually trying in… well possibly ever. Though Kinn did technically fight him and more than held his own, as Porsche is always happy to remind him he'd been recently injured in the ring, then kidnapped and had been awake for almost 24 hours when they had their tussle and it simply didn't count.
Porsche leaps at Kim who drops back, narrowly avoiding a knee to the solar plexus. He lands lightly, pivoting on his toes as he delivers a 1-2 open palm strike to Kim's flank and stomach. Kim curls forward, pulling Porsche too close to him to hit again, but Porsche is bigger and stronger. He grabs hold of Kim's arm and the sturdy material of his jeans and tosses him over his hip, the muscles of his back rippling with the strain.
Kim lands hard on the soft grass but jackknifes back to his feet, the move clearly startling Porsche, allowing Kim to get inside his defences, delivering a swift roundhouse kick that clips Porsche's jaw and sends him sprawling.
Kinn feels that muscle in his jaw twitch as he grits his teeth. He leans out of the shadowed hallway he'd been watching from, fully intending to put a stop to this before someone gets seriously hurt, when Porsche pushes himself up on all fours and twists to look back at Kim.
A smile cracks his face, wide and feral, eyes burning with a wildness that Kinn isn't used to seeing outside their sheets, his teeth bloody from the new split lip. It sends a shocking bolt of heat racing down the length of his body, curling slowly low in his gut, leaving Kinn feeling not unlike he's been struck by lightning.
Porsche pushes himself back unto his haunches, as he smirks up at Kim, movements languid and deadly. A predator coiled to strike. He's breathing heavily, golden skin sparkling in the afternoon sun.
"There he is," Porsche mutters before he strikes, muscles bunching with the action of throwing himself at Kim, and it's like they've lost the kid gloves.
Kim is wicked fast, dodging Porsche's flurry of hits and punches as he retreats. The small crowd surrounding them gets a little louder with cheers and respectful heckling.
Kinn steps back into the shade of the hallway he's been hovering in, removing himself emotionally from the fight, and just observes. It's been an age since Kinn has seen his brother fight, but he was always scrappy. As the smallest and the youngest, it always felt to Kinn like he had something to prove. He used to take the disciplined moves their trainer taught them and pull at the edges. Ripping and tearing at them until they were something sharper, something more deadly than what they were given. Kinn honestly hadn't been certain that he kept up any form of martial arts training until Porsche showed him the video of the bar.
For his part, Porsche looks every inch the deadly weapon Kinn encountered in that back alley months ago. He's so fast and lean that it tricks the mind into thinking he's smaller than he is, a dangerous error. Porsche is near 6 feet of pure muscle, more flexible than you'd expect with enough formal training to take on a pro and enough viciousness to fight as dirty as he needs to win.
Their fight is intense but Kinn can see enough edges of control that it calms the hummingbird beat of his heart. Porsche dodges a well-executed swipe at his face, leaning back into an impossible angle that allows him to grab Kim's arm and pull him into the sharp point of his elbow. The surrounding crowd gets louder with the move, but Kim doesn't even pause, twisting into a spin and jamming his elbow into Porsche's chest. Hard.
Porsche stumbles away, laughing with manic delight that seems to electrify the surrounding guards before coming in again. Kinn finds himself smiling at the pure, chaotic delight on Porsche's face before a cold shiver runs up his spine. From where he is standing, partially obscured in the hallway leading to the gardens, he has a great view of the outdoor balcony overlooking the terrace. His father has just walked out, peering over the railing at the fight taking place below.
Kinn ducks further back into the shadows, staying out of his father's view and watches him take in the match playing out underneath him. Neither Porsche nor Kim seems to notice their new audience, focusing completely on outsmarting each other.
Korn initially looks displeased, whether at how the fight is going or at the fact that it's taking place at all, Kinn isn't certain, but then his face changes. Eyes going intense as his mouth slips into a contemplative smirk that sends ice water cascading through Kinn's veins.
Kinn knows his father is dangerous and cannot be trusted, no matter how much he wishes that wasn’t the case. He also knows that his father’s scheme to bring Porsche into the fold has coincidentally ended up bringing Kim closer to the family because he seems incapable of not circling Chay, no matter what he says.
Still, while Kinn lives with the fact that his father has his claws chest deep in him with no easy way out, he’ll not allow the same fate to befall his brothers. And as much as Kinn wishes he didn’t recognise that look on his father’s face, that he hasn’t seen it in the mirror even, he knows what greed looks like on a Theerapanyakul. He doesn’t know exactly what future his father sees in Kim and Porsche fighting like this, but he knows it’s one where they’re both reduced to their sharpest, most dangerous edges. Kinn will not allow that.
"I am certain," Kinn starts, his lazy drawl not hiding the displeasure in his tone "that I don't pay you all to stand around watching a piss poor imitation of an MMA fight."
A pulse of apprehension thrums through the assembled crowd as they turn to find him standing, hands akimbo, frown in place.
A smattering of muttered 'Of course Khun Kinn' and 'we apologise, Khun Kinn' drifts over to him as people start to wai and scatter away like a bunch of mice with the light turned on them.
The distraction pulls Kim's attention, a fatal mistake with an opponent as fucking sneaky as Porsche. He dodges behind Kim's defences, kneeing him in the back of the thigh and grabs his hand as he goes down. He uses the arm as leverage, pulling Kim back into his chest as his other arm wraps decisively around his throat, trapping him in a headlock.
Kim flails for a moment, hissing and spitting as he struggles to dislodge Porsche while Kinn approaches. Kinn spares one small look over his shoulder to ensure his father is moving on from the spectacle before he allows himself the comfort of a single moment to breathe, letting the tension of his father's attention roll off his shoulders, loosening the vice that has curled around his chest.
Porsche looks up at him, still holding Kim in the headlock through his continued struggles, and grins. His split lip is no longer bleeding, but has started to swell, keeping his sinful mouth red and flushed even though his teeth are no longer framed with blood. His entire expression drips with an arrogance that makes him seem wild, sparking like a live wire left on the ground, the electricity charging the air around him. It sets Kinn alight. He wants to push nearer to that thrumming energy until he can feel the static running along his teeth, threatening a shock that would have him moaning in pleasure-pain.
Kinn knows Porsche is waiting for instruction, waiting on a direct order from him, and the knowledge that he has such control over an irrepressible force like Porsche floods Kinn with a heady power that goes straight to his cock. He makes himself swallow around the sharp edge of his arousal. Now is not the time.
"Porsche," Kinn starts, voice hard and cold "You're cutting off blood flow to his brain and he can't really afford to lose any more brain cells."
"Aww, I didn't know you cared, bro," Kim grits out, hand still tugging at the hold Porsche has him in.
Porsche hisses at Kim, teeth bared. Kinn rolls his eyes. Kim is such a little shit he would spend his last breath being a dick just to get the last word in.
"Porsche! Khun has unfortunately grown fond of him over the last 15 years. Let him go, now please."
Porsche laughs, rolling to the side and all but throwing Kim to the ground. Kim groans and pushes himself up to his knees, glaring over at Porsche and Kinn.
"I'm 21, dumbass." Kim spits in response.
Kinn raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "And?"
Kim all but growls at him, rolling up to his feet and shaking bits of dew-wet grass out of his hair. It really does make him look like a displeased housecat. Kinn decides to keep that thought to himself.
"Is there a particular reason you decided to beat the crap out of him?" Kinn asks casually, holding an arm out to Porsche. Porsche grabs it and lets himself be pulled to his feet.
"What? I can't bond with my new little brother? He makes the most interesting faces when he's irritated," Porsche says, aiming a saccharine smile at Kim.
Kim glares again and Kinn has a moment of utter and complete shock. He knows that glare. That glare is the glare no one but Tankhun tends to get. It's as affectionate as he's seen his brother get in years.
Kinn bites back on the near manic laughter that threatens to bubble out of him. Neither Kim nor Porsche would appreciate him pointing out that they clearly like each other, but Kinn's heart feels unusually light with that knowledge.
"This wasn't a win!" Kim scowls pointing threateningly at Porsche. "I would have gotten out of that hold if Kinn hadn't interrupted,"
Porsche winks at him and Kim huffs, grabbing his jacket off the ground and turning to leave.
"Hey, kid," Porsche calls.
Kim groans and turns back to them with a put-upon sigh. "What?"
"He'll come around,"
Kim's expression goes immediately blank and Kinn is pretty sure Chay is the only thing that could get him to clam up that quickly. He does nothing for a moment then gives one sharp, awkward nod and turns to flee.
Porsche chuckles, leaning down to grab his shirt before facing Kinn fully, movements still tight and precise.
Kinn takes him in. He's dishevelled, hair falling over his face in the places it's gone overlong and needs a cut. He's also covered in a light sheen of sweat that glistens enticingly along the delightful curve of his shoulder and the dip of his collar bones as he breathes, too quick and shallow to be a comedown. He's riled up, adrenaline still pumping.
"What was all that about?" Kinn asks lowly, careful of any potential ears that may be hovering.
Porsche sighs and starts heading back into the house. He shrugs as he reaches to slip the shirt over his shoulder before he changes course mid-movement, throwing the cloth over his shoulder for a moment before pulling it forward again to pick at the collar.
Kinn frowns.
"Chay wanted to grab lunch together today-" he starts, then sighs. "-and I decided to bring Kim along."
Kinn's eyebrows head for his hairline. It's been a few weeks since the attack on the house and Chay has been digesting all the information surrounding … well everything, but he has made no attempt to contact Kim. Not that Kinn's aware at least, and he'd know. Porsche has gotten a little obsessive about Chay's guards and his general safety recently, to the point that he's pretty sure the kid can't take a shit right now without his fellow stallmates undergoing a background check, so taking Kim to see Chay like that was definitely a overstep.
"How'd that go?" Kinn asks, as polite and free of judgement as he can.
Porsche scowls, the expression making him look younger. Kinn doesn't even hate that he finds it cute.
"Not well?" Porsche chuckles bitterly, the sound brittle and off-putting as he swipes his hands through his hair and fiddles with the shirt some more.
Kinn makes a face at Porsche. "And that was… shocking to you?"
Porsche stops and glares at him, the expression containing real heat.
"Alright, no. You happy? I knew he would be pissed and I did it anyway.” Porsche growls, getting up in his face. Kinn bites back on his own anger, an automatic response to anyone speaking to him like that. It’s Porsche and he’s upset. He can be gracious.
“It’s not me you're fucking pissed at, so why don’t you back off?” Ok, maybe only a bit gracious.
Porsche groans again, turning in place and runs his hands through his hair yet again. He’s frazzled, seemingly even more on edge than when he was sparring with Kim. Kinn has seen him like this before, when he gets trapped inside his thoughts until the spiral pushes him up and up and up, leaving him all but bouncing with useless energy and enough impudence to get him in trouble. Kinn has learnt that taking Porsche out of his own head typically works wonders when he gets like this, but it usually entails having his evening and next morning schedule cleared so that he can hold Porsche down and fuck him until his brain goes quiet. This underlying aggression typically isn't present in those times though, and like this, well Kinn likes his dick attached to his body quite thank you.
“I know it was dumb, ok,” Porsche mutters. “-and that it was overstepping his boundaries or whatever but… he’s miserable.” Porsche’s voice breaks on the last word like he’s the one in pain. “As much as I don't want Chay anymore caught up with all this than he already is, and as much as I think Kim is not good for him, he’s miserable and he’s doing a shit job of hiding it, so what am I supposed to do?”
Porsche’s warm brown eyes stare up at him and Kinn gets it. Porsche has spent his life being more parent than brother, bandaging wounds and kissing bruises to make it all ok, because that’s what he's had to do. As much as Kinn is used to staying out of his brothers’ problems unless asked, Porsche is used to fixing them without needing to be asked. But Chay isn’t a child anymore.
“What did he do?”
Porsche picks at the shirt he’s still not wearing some more before he leans against the wall, gazing up at the ceiling. It puts the long line of his neck on display. Kinn is not distracted.
“Honestly not much. He was unerringly, unflinchingly… polite. All Khun Kim this and P’Porsche that.”
Kinn cringes in sympathy. He knows exactly how cold that would be to both Porsche and Kim. Honestly, the kid has more cruelty in him than they give him credit for.
“It's not your problem to fix,” Kinn says as sympathetically as he can.
Porsche huffs, pushing off the wall to pace around him. “Maybe, but I say again. What am I supposed to do?”
Kinn sighs watching the tense lines of Porsche’s form. He can see exactly how it played out. How riled up it would have left Kim, the little storm cloud that follows him around going black and mean. How Porsche would have clocked it and decided to give him an outlet for all that emotion. As annoying as Porsche's need to fix things is, Kinn can't help but love him even more for the care he takes with any and everyone if given the chance. The sparring session clearly helped Kim calm down but Porsche is still bouncing.
“Come with me,” he says shortly, turning on his heels and heading for the stairs, Porsche’s steps trailing behind him.
He heads for the gym but bypasses the usual training spaces that he knows Porsche is familiar with, the pool and the sauna. Heads instead for the private training rooms in the back that are little used these days.
He pushes the door open, letting Porsche wander in behind him before he turns on the aircon, then closes and locks the door.
Kinn leans back against the door as he watches Porsche take in the room. He walks from one end to the other, stopping to poke at the leaning tower of mats on one side, then stares out the window.
“How come I didn’t know about this space?” he asks, turning to Kinn, who just shrugs.
“The mansion is bigger and older than most people tend to notice. Lots of areas have gone in and out of use. Khun used to use this space for yoga and meditation.”
Porsche raises a disbelieving eyebrow. Kinn shrugs again. “It was a phase. Pa was willing to do anything if it meant Khun would leave his rooms for a bit.”
Porsche nods, trailing his fingers along the wall as he walks the length of the room again. “So, what am I doing here?”
“You seem… unsettled. Figured you could use the exercise.”
Porsche smiles at him, real and small. “I am fine using the bodyguards' area, I'm not that messed up. Besides, not much for me to do here by myself.”
Kinn stretches his neck, pushing his shoulders back into the wall as he looks at Porsche down the bridge of his nose. It's no secret he always wants to get his hands on Porsche, but this is more than that. “Who said anything about you being by yourself?”
Porsche looks at him with such disbelief that it's frankly insulting. “You’re serious? You want a go at me?”
“Well, I did take your sparring partner from you a little earlier than you intended,”
“Yeah, what was that all about anyway?”
Kinn almost answers honestly, mouth open and the words on the tip of his tongue before he hesitates. He’s seen the way Porsche looks at his father increasingly like he’s a jungle cat scenting for weakness in prey, and he doesn’t want to call any more attention to their simmering antagonism than he has to. Not until he can see a clear path out for both of them at least.
“Honestly, I thought you were using sparring as an excuse to lay into Kim. I wanted my brother to survive to see 22.”
“Ha-ha” Porsche scoffs.
Kinn tilts his head, expression opening in challenge. Porsche's smile, when it comes, is slow and sensual and so cocky.
"Ok, old man. If you really want me to kick your ass." He throws his shirt on the floor, toeing out of his shoes then begins jumping in place as he shakes out his long limbs, stretching his neck like he wasn't just in a fight.
Kinn pulls his jacket off, unbuttoning his shirt slowly as he paces the edge of the large inlaid mat on the floor. He stretches his arms across his chest once he's free of the constricting material, then leans down to undo his shoes.
"Rules?" Porsche asks, excitement bleeding into his voice.
"First one to tap out loses. No hits below the belt and no biting."
Porsche pouts at him. "Spoilsport!"
Kinn doesn't rise to the bait, stepping onto the mat and falling into a defensive stance. He watches Porsche saunter closer and smirks, crooking two fingers at him.
That's all the invite Porsche needs. He runs at Kinn, feigning a left jab before darting to the right and clipping Kinn's right hip with a no holds barred punch when he tries to dodge.
Kinn absorbs the hit, blocking an elbow to the face and then a knee to his abdomen in quick succession. He grabs Porsche's arm with his next jab, attempting to pull him in, limiting his mobility. Porsche drops his weight into the pull, throwing Kinn off balance before he drops into a crouch and sweeps his foot out to bring Kinn down, the angle demonstrating an impressive amount of flexibility.
Kinn clocks the move, jumping over the sweep, but has to let Porsche go. He lands and immediately spins into a kick that clips Porsche's shoulder, but he rolls with the momentum, flipping away from Kinn before bouncing back to his feet, maintaining his distance.
The swift movements leave Kinn breathing heavily, it's been a while since he's been this active with his recent bevy of meetings and he finds that he missed the adrenalin rush. Porsche prowls at the edge of the mat, gait loose and deadly. Eyes assessing.
Kinn twists to follow him as he circles while Porsche just watches him for a minute, clearly waiting for Kinn to lose his patience and go on the offensive but he knows Porsche needs the action. He needs the fight and the aggression to work the tension out of his system, and besides, Kinn has always been the more patient of them anyway.
A moment later Porsche darts in and aims a low kick at Kinn's shin which Kinn barely dodges. Porsche continues coming at him like a bat out of hell, Kinn doing more to dodge than to attack, hoping to tire him out. Eventually, Porsche errs, coming in too close in an attempt to trip him. Instead, he spins into a kick, which hits Porsche on the outside of his thigh, bringing Porsche to his knees. He tackles Porsche to the mat but before he can manoeuvre him into any sort of hold, Porsche flips them, skin sweat-slick and impossible to hold. Porsche straddles him and punches him in the jaw, the hit rattling his brain and he sees nothing but stars for a moment.
Kinn blocks the next punch by the skin of his teeth, rolling out from beneath Porsche and scrambling away from him. He's not fast enough though and Porsche grabs his leg, dodging the kick he throws at him as he crawls up his body, dropping his weight low enough that Kinn can't really wriggle free, pinning his arms above his head.
Kinn thrusts up wildly, trying to dislodge Porsche but he goes with the movement, grinning at Kinn like he's his favourite ride. He leans down and rubs their hips together deliberately, seeming to enjoy the shocked gasp the move forces from Kinn's throat as his mind goes blank again for very different reasons.
"Not what you expected this time was it?" Porsche smirks, ducking his head down to draw sharp teeth down the line of Kinn's neck, ending in a painful nip that sends a lightning bolt of pure arousal down the length of his body.
Kinn squirms underneath him, trying to free his hands which just makes Porsche chuckle harder. He gets bolder in his exploration of his neck, devious tongue sneaking out to leave distracting open-mouth kisses.
"I'm not fucking tapping out," Kinn grits, but Porsche just huffs, redoubling his efforts to drive Kinn out of his skin. He's so focused on how good it feels he doesn't realize Porsche has transferred his hold to only one hand until the other cups him boldly, stroking up and down his now very hard cock.
"I think I like you not tapping out. I like you under me," Porsche murmurs, opening Kinn’s slacks with one deft hand and slipping inside, his touch almost cool against Kinn's overheated skin. He wraps talented fingers around Kinn, stroking slowly while twisting delicately over the head. The pressure and heat coil even tighter in Kinn's abdomen, pleasure skittering along his nerve endings.
Kinn feels overwrought and wrung dry with desperation, Porsche's touch is much too light to really be satisfying. Kinn thrusts up again, this time just trying to get more, but Porsche's grip gentles even further all while his mouth continues nipping hard enough to leave bruises against Kinn's exposed collarbones, the contrast stealing Kinn's breath. He moans, low and filthy as Porsche's hand picks up speed, tightening his hold just enough that Kinn can't catch his breath, can barely think as his orgasm builds.
"Fuck, fuck, keep going, Porsche"
Porsche licks a stripe up the side of his neck and stops just behind his ear. His voice, when it comes, is an octave deeper, smoky and sensual.
"I really like you begging underneath me. How about you give me a please and I'll let you come," he murmurs, clever fingers doing something unholy that has Kinn choking on his own breath, unable to breathe past the white-hot pleasure.
"Fuck. You." He grits out, turning to glare up at Porsche who looks so-fucking-smug. He looks unreal like this, bent over him, hair a complete mess and dripping with sweat while his eyes blaze. It makes Kinn want to hold him down and strip him with his teeth.
Corralling his muscles back from the liquid mush they've turned into under Porsche's ministrations, Kinn strains up hard, finally bucking Porsche’s lithe form off him. He falls gracelessly, laying sprawled out for a singular moment before scrambling to his feet, trying to put distance between them.
Kinn gets up after him, hand closing around his wrist as Porsche tries to dance away and fails. Kinn swings him around, slamming his back into the wall harder than he intended and crowding up against him. Pure instinct has him ducking out of the way of the hit Porsche throws at him, slipping behind Porsche to grab the elbow of the offending arm. The move throws off Porsche’s balance and allows him to tug Porsche in along his front, wrapping his arms around both of Porsche's elbows, pinning his back against Kinn's chest.
Porsche tries to fling himself away from Kinn wildly which forces him to tighten his hold so that his fingers dig in deep enough to bruise. It works and Porsche doesn’t get free, but he switches tactics and pushes back hard, driving Kinn into the wall behind them, shoving his breath out of him. He then tries to headbutt Kinn, but he turns away at the last moment, the back of Porsche's head connecting with his cheek, doing much less damage than he intended.
Kinn tightens his hold on Porsche, moving his hold from elbow to upper arm, forcing Porsche to bend back at an angle or risk dislocating a shoulder.
Porsche squirms around some more, breath coming out in little pants as he tires to escape the hold. Kinn grins, turning his head into the soft curve of Porsche's neck, nosing along the straining tendon he finds there.
"Ready to tap out?" He murmurs softly, breathing in an intoxicating mix of cologne, sunshine and sweaty boy.
"Nothing to tap is there?" Porsche fumes, still wriggling to get free. All he's succeeding in doing is rubbing his ass against Kinn's still very present and very interested erection.
"You could just say you want to tap out," he replies, running his tongue over the curl of Porsche's ear. Porsche jerks, like the touch is unexpected, but doesn't turn his head away, pursing his lips in a show of defiance.
Kinn moves to switch his hold, threading one arm through both of Porsche’s elbows. It gives him less control of Porsche’s movements but allows him to have one hand free. Porsche tugs lightly, still holding on to the appearance that he’s trying to get free. “Easy, easy now. There’s a good boy,” Kinn gentles him as he kisses along the side of his face, into his hairline. Porsche’s breaths are coming faster again but he doesn't pull away and that dark, possessive part deep inside of Kinn thrills at the submission.
He slides his now free right hand up the gleaming muscles of Porsche's abdomen, along his chest, pausing to flick a sharp nail over a nipple, before he grabs Porsche by the throat, forcing his head higher and angling the graceful line of his neck closer to his mouth. He holds Porsche like that for a minute, then two, feeling the air thicken with their growing arousal. He tightens his fingers, thumb slipping into the groove just under the sharp line of Porsche’s jaw, while he licks and nips along Porsche's exposed skin. Porsche groans, the sound dripping pleasure warm and honey-gold over Kinn’s skin while his cock twitches hard in his pants.
"You like this," Kinn whispers, feeling Porsche swallow hard, the movement causing his adam’s apple to bob teasingly against Kinn’s palm. "You don't want to tap out. You like being my plaything, don't you? Put on display like this?" Kinn drawls, hand moving from Porsche's throat to trail, warm and lazy down the length of his body. He doesn’t relax the hold he has Porsche in, keeping his shoulders bunched behind him and forcing his body into an angle that arches his back, leaving his front on display, covered in a sheen of sweat that shimmers with every breath.
Kinn feels drunk with possession. The casual ownership he feels at being allowed to touch Porsche like this, to hold him and mould him however he pleases, is a heady thrill.
Porsche lets out a surprised gasp, his whole body twitching up sharply as Kinn allows his hands to press lightly against the indecent bulge in the front of Porsche’s pants. He moves up again, leisurely drawing his nails along Porsche’s lower abdomen, enjoying how the muscles tense and shiver at the contact.
Porsche whines, his head dropping back to rest on Kinn’s shoulder as he just melts into Kinn’s arms, surrendering himself to the pleasure. Kinn feels like he has been set on fire with the strength of the want that tears through him. He wants Porsche begging and crazed beneath him. He wants him sated and happy, so incoherent with lust that the only word he can remember is Kinn’s name. He wants it all, and he wants it all with this man.
A desperate sound rips out of his throat and then he’s tugging roughly at the clasps that are holding Porsche’s trousers up, almost ripping the material in his need to touch him, to hold him. He slips a leg between Porsche’s, forcing the younger boy's legs wider, so his pants and underwear get trapped around his thighs and leave him so open and on display for Kinn.
Kinn isn’t gentle, he doesn’t have enough higher brain function for gentleness at the moment, every atom in his body begging and pleading and demanding that he make Porsche his, that he proves to himself all over again why he deserves to have this gorgeous creature. He wraps his hand around Porsche, immediately dropping into a fast and hard pace as he grinds mindlessly into Porsche’s ass pressed tight against his groin. Porsche whimpers helplessly, bucking into the tight channel of his fist before trying to wriggle away. He seems overcome, not sure if he wants to push deeper into the pleasure Kinn is giving him or hide away from it, like it’s too much. But there is nowhere for him to go, trapped between the torment of Kinn’s hand and the strong line of Kinn’s body behind him, and Kinn relishes it. Every sound, every moan, every whimper, would inject it into his veins if he could. Porsche’s pleasure is the most potent drug he’s ever tasted.
“Come on, love. I know you want it. I know how badly you want to come” he finds himself murmuring directly into Porsche’s ear, the sound of his voice rough and cracked and so wild he almost doesn’t recognise it himself. “You want to come for me. You want to show me how good you can be, so do it. You know I want it, you know it’s mine,”
Porsche lets out a choked-off groan, his whole body tensing, every muscle going rigid as he fucks, and fucks and fucks into Kinn’s hand until Kinn can taste it, taste how close Porsche is. He realises belatedly that he’s right there with him. The sublime pressure of Porsche grinding back against his cock and how intimately he feels connected with Porsche’s pleasure, like his rapture is his own, is going to drive him over the edge the moment Porsche comes.
Porsche bucks and gasps a minute more, Kinn whispering praise and vulgarities into his ear, lost in the moment, and then just like that Porsche tenses so hard he almost throws Kinn off him, his cock pulsing as he spills over Kinn's wrist. The sound he makes is ragged and broken, torn from deep inside of him. Kinn is on his heels, shooting into his pants like some green schoolboy who’s just discovered what his dick is for, but Kinn can do nothing but let the white-hot ecstasy roll through him, allowing Porsche's bitten off moans and lazy grinding as he milks himself using Kinn’s hand, to drive the last vestiges of conscious thought from his head.
Porsche’s legs give out as he pants through the end of his orgasm. Kinn is no better, barely able to get them on the ground safely as he waits for feeling to return to his hands and feet. When he thinks he finally has enough muscle control to move, he turns his head to look over at Porsche who is smiling to himself, eyes shut, splayed out on the mat and, for the first time Kinn has seen him today, totally still.
Kinn grins, appreciating the boost to his ego that he has fucked the anxiety out of Porsche.
“Feeling better?” he asks and Porsche laughs as he opens his eyes, now soft and content, to stare at him. He reaches out for Kinn, fingers wriggling in the space between them and Kinn reaches out in turn to grasp his hand.
“Better,” Porsche responds, and Kinn finally feels like his day is looking up.