I'm grateful you're mine

by Skyskyskysky

Summary:

Mok is anxious and unsure but Rome is determined to show him, in every touch and every breath, that there was never anyone else and never a reason to doubt.

Basically Rome devouring Mok.

Notes:

Heyyy i should be posting chap 2 of my other fic but seeing William as Rome made me work on this draft I initially planned on ignoring so now this big boy is here. Enjoy reading<3

The whole mansion woke early that morning. You could hear it in the clipped footsteps on marble floors, the hushed excitement that always spread whenever the younger son came to stay.

Mok wasn’t one for gossip. Not because he was above it but because he didn’t have the time or the energy for other people’s imaginations. His day was all about Khun Thee’s schedules, clearances and security. And every now and then without warning, his thoughts pull back to the same man.

Rome Kritdanai.

The one presence his mind never managed to shake. The only one who made him feel loved and important in the way he felt seen.

But today…today the murmurs were too loud to ignore.

Two guards leaned against the corner wall near the training hall, talking in those careless lazy tones that people used when they thought no one important was listening.

“The younger one has a girlfriend, I heard.”

“Lucky her.”

“She must be pretty. Perfect for someone like him.”

Mok didn’t mean to stop walking but his body simply paused.

Girlfriend.

The word fell like something large and heavy in his stomach, settling where it didn’t belong. He wasn’t dramatic enough to clutch his chest or gasp. He just stood there, expression blank, as if listening to a weather report rather than something that shook the ground under him.

A girlfriend. In a different country. Where Rome had been for two years. Where Mok wasn’t.

He told himself they weren’t exclusive. There had never been a label, only random calls and texts, teasing and confessions that never used the right words but meant too much. And the childhood bond. God, their childhood, Rome trailing behind him like a shadow, like something that belonged beside him.

Had he imagined all that?

Maybe he had.

They were nothing. Everyone knew it. He knew it. Of course they weren’t anything real. But God knows he had felt something. Something that clung to him quietly. There was a pull between them, subtle but undeniable, born from the way Rome talked to him, the way those easy and almost careless ‘miss you’ slipped out of Rome’s mouth like they cost nothing. And Mok hated how much they meant to him. He hated how his chest tightened whenever he remembered the distance between them. It was stupid. Irrational. But the truth sat heavy in him, whenever someone else came near him, flirted with him, looked at him too long, all he felt was disgust. This cold, instinctive rejection because his heart had already bowed to a man living miles away. A man who might not have bowed to him at all.

Maybe for Rome it was temporary. Light. Fun. Something to fill the empty hours between work and sleep. Maybe Mok had been nothing more than a distraction. Pleasant, convenient, forgettable. He couldn’t even argue with that possibility. He didn’t have the right to. Because he isn’t the person he used to be.

Not the soft, small, almost breakable boy Rome first met. He’s broader now. Bigger. He carries himself with a weight he didn’t have before, shoulders that stiffened with responsibility, hands that learned the difference between holding on and letting go. He’s grown in ways he never asked for, ways that make him feel further from who he was and further from the version of him that Rome once looked at like he mattered.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of it all, he doesn’t even know if Rome would recognise him anymore. Or worse. If Rome would even care.

Rome deserved someone polished, someone who matched the glittering world he lived in abroad. Someone soft and refined, not someone with Mok’s broad frame, blunt hands, heavy presence. Not the man who was always one step behind Thee and never beside Rome.

He exhaled once, steady and cold. He had work to do.

——————

By noon, the wide iron doors groaned open. His black car glided in with the same quiet authority, Rome Kritdanai was known for. Engines low, windows dark, everything controlled.

Mok stood at the footsteps of the entrance stairs, spine straight, hands clasped infront. Every inch the perfect employee, silent, unreadable, a trained shadow in a pressed uniform.

But his heartbeat wasn’t professional.

He’d been steady all morning or at least pretending to be. It wasn’t until the car slowed to a stop that the old, unwelcome tightness gathered under his ribs, anticipation mixing with nerves, nerves mixing with something he’d spent a year trying to get used to.

The back door opened.

Rome Kritdanai stepped out.

For a split second, Mok forgot how to breathe.

He had changed. Sharpened jaw, broad shoulders, a confident heaviness into the way he stood. His hair a little longer now. He looked older, steadier, stronger.

But the expression, the one Mok had been terrified of forgetting, was still there.

A very soft and immediate smile when his eyes found Mok.

Mok locked down every reaction. He forced his posture to stay crisp, his mouth neutral, his eyes forward. But something deep inside him jolted awake, a warmth he didn’t want to admit to.

When Rome approached, Mok dipped his head respectfully.

“Welcome, Mr. Kritdanai,” he said, voice steady and tone perfect.

Rome’s mouth tilted upwards. That damn beautiful smile that could melt glaciers. Then he said it, low and honest and without hesitation,

“I missed you so much.”

The words hit Mok so hard his composure bent for a single, dangerous second.

A stupid sigh of relief, small, helpless, involuntary escaped him before he clenched his jaw and swallowed it back.

He stepped aside instantly, clearing Rome’s path like procedure demanded, pretending those five words hadn’t landed like a punch straight to his chest.

Inside the house, everything swallowed Rome whole. Laughter, greetings, staff bustling. Thee barreled out of nowhere, loud but handsome as always and wrapped Rome in a hug.

Rome laughed, bright and unguarded. A sound Mok had replayed in his head more times than he cared to admit.

Mok kept his distance, jaw tight, hands clasped behind him. He was a guard again. A background.

And yet, Rome kept glancing at him.

Quick flicks of the eyes. Searching. Checking. Wanting.

Mok pretended not to notice every single one.

Hours passed. The excitement dulled, the house settled. Rome was escorted to his room to rest. Mok moved to the guard wing, sat on his bed and pretended to clean his already clean gun. His hands were steady, but his breathing wasn’t.

And then his phone buzzed.

R:
I miss you.
Come to my room.

Mok’s heartbeat dropped straight to his stomach.

He shouldn’t go. He knew he shouldn’t. Facing Rome was the last thing he wanted right now. To learn the truth was the last thing he wanted right now.

But his feet moved before his doubts could stop them.

He stood outside Rome’s door for five full seconds, breathing slowly, trying to quiet the storm in his chest. Just as he lifted his hand to knock,

The door swung open.

Rome didn’t give him time to speak or even react. He grabbed Mok by the wrist, pulled him inside with a force that felt like urgency and kicked the door shut behind them.

And then kissed him. Desperate.

Like their distance had been a wound and Mok was the first relief.

The kiss was everything Mok could've imagined. Rome sucked on his bottom lip until it hurt. When he parted his mouth to take a breath, Rome slid his tongue inside. It was immediate and consuming. Mok's breath hitched, the sound trapped deep in his throat as Rome's tongue initiated a bold, searching claim. It wasn't gentle, it was a hungry statement.

A dizzying, raw urgency seized Mok. His hands shot up, gripping the back of Rome's neck, fingers sinking into his hair to tilt his head and pull him deeper into the exchange. Only if he was in his right mind, he would've stopped it. But the desire overshadowed every other thought in his mind.

Rome instinctively pressed his body closer, eliminating the last bit of space between them. And there it went, Mok’s last bit of sanity.

When Rome finally eased back, the movement agonizingly slow, their lips separated with a soft, pulling sound. He didn't break contact, instead sunk his forehead onto Mok's collarbone, breathing heavy and ragged.

“Don't move,” he commanded, the words muffled against Mok's skin, thick with a need that resonated deep within Mok's core. His arms tightened around Mok's waist, anchoring him there, trembling slightly. The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was dense, charged with the lingering heat of the kiss and the terrifying, wonderful weight of all the unsaid feelings.

“Mok,” he murmured, the sound thick and husky, his eyes still closed. “God, Mok.” It was less a name and more an admission, a breathless plea that stripped away all the tension and left only raw desperate feeling.

A broken sound tore out of Mok, too loud and too raw but Rome only pressed closer and started kissing his neck like he’d been starving for it. He pushed Mok gently until his legs hit the bed.

Mok tried to back up. Instead, his knee hit the frame of the bed. He completely lost his footing and just dumped backward onto the mattress, landing hard in a seated heap. Rome didn't even flinch at the shift. He was left standing right over Mok, perfectly positioned between his legs.

Mok suddenly looked up and Rome was just... huge. Backlit by the hazy light, his chest was still moving fast, but his eyes were locked on Mok. Not on his mouth, not a quick glance. He was staring. Deep, steady and totally unflinching.

A wave of instant panic filled in his heart. Mok felt all the heat from the kiss drain out, replaced by this awful, cold flood of self consciousness. Being looked at like that felt too intense, too exposed. He felt every imperfection, every messy emotion laid bare. His gaze immediately dropped, glued to the zipper of Rome’s pants, maybe two inches from his face. He started nervously messing with the neck of his shirt, trying to shrink away from Rome's heavy gaze.

The silence was deafening, thick with unsaid things and then, Rome’s rough and quiet voice dropped down to him. “Mok. Look up.”

His shoulders tensed, but his eyes were fixed on Rome’s expensive boots. Rome didn't move an inch but his tone changed. It was softer now, almost pleading yet still demanding attention. “Why are you hiding?”

Mok pressed his eyes shut.

“Mok… why did you ignore me today?”

Rome went down on his knees, still between Mok’s legs and cupped his face, thumb brushing warm circles into his skin.

“Are you scared of me now?” Rome whispered.

Mok shook his head.

“Then tell me,” Rome murmured. “Please. I’ve been waiting so long to see you. Did I do something?”

Mok’s voice cracked out, quiet and strained, “It's…..stupid.”

Rome clicked his tongue, “Nothing about you is stupid. Be a good boy and tell me, what happened?”

Mok won't lie, this did stir something in him physically. But before he could pay more attention to it, Rome's hand touched his thighs “Tell me, please?”

Mok didn't realize when his hands moved, only that one moment he was trying to breathe and the next his fingers were fisted in Rome's shirt. “Why do you still want me?”

Rome stilled. “Huh?”

Mok huffed out a breath, turning his face away even though his hands were still holding him in place. His jaw clenched, eyes darting everywhere but Rome’s face. “You shouldn’t…” Mok muttered, voice sharp at the edges. “You shouldn’t be touching me right now.”

Rome didn’t move.

Mok looked away, a slight irritation visible in this action.

“You know people who are pretty,” he went on, tone rising in frustrated little bursts. “People who actually fit your image. Delicate and Soft. The kind who look good standing next to you in photos.”

Rome blinked, taking in everything he was saying.

Mok scoffed, pushing weakly at Rome’s chest even though Rome didn’t budge an inch.

“Why are you still here? Why are you still…” his voice cracked before he caught it, “...still touching me like this?”

Rome opened his mouth, but Mok rushed ahead, words tumbling out, messy and irritated and too honest.

“You should be with your girlfriend right now. Or whatever she is. The pretty girl everyone keeps talking about. The one who actually matches you. The one who...” he swallowed, “...doesn’t look like she could break someone with one wrong move.”

Rome’s brows drew together, slow and confused.

But Mok wasn’t done. His insecurity was a tide and it kept rising.

“I am not small. I am not soft. I am not any of the things you want. I don’t even…” he gestured at himself, annoyed, “...look like the same person you left. And don’t look at me like that. Don’t…” his voice raw, “...don’t look at me like you care. That’s not fair.”

Slowly, Rome pulled back just enough to meet Mok’s eyes. Confusion flickered there. Then anger, not at Mok, but at the thought itself. Hurt followed right behind it, sharp and unhidden.

“Mok,” Rome said softly, incredulous,“ First of all, why would I have someone else? And tell me do you think so low of me? If I had someone, do you think I would be touching you like this? If I had someone else, why do I think I try to find time everyday to text you atleast once”

Mok’s fingers curled into Rome’s shirt, gripping tight as if the fabric was the only thing keeping him steady.

Rome moved a little and kissed him again, slow this time, almost reverent, his hand sliding along Mok’s jaw.

“I came back,” Rome whispered, lips brushing his skin, “for you.”

Yet Mok started bouncing his knees. A habit he developed when he was a kid. Rome steadied him, holding him like he’d done it a hundred times.

“Mok,” he murmured, quiet and certain, “I love you. So much more than you think.” He stood up while pushing him lightly toward the bed until he was towering over Mok beneath him.

Mok's breath hitched. His eyes roaming everywhere but at the man above him. “And what was that you said about you not being physically the same?” Rome asked, his voice low, a teasing challenge underlying the hunger in his eyes.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He framed Mok’s face with his hands, thumb rubbing the sharp curve of his cheekbone. This time, his gaze dropped pointedly, slowly trailing down Mok's body where he lay sprawled on the bed. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he demanded, his gaze locking back on his face.

“Do you know how hard it has been for me to control myself?” Mok's entire face went scorching red.

“You do things to me I can't even say,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the flush along Mok’s cheek. “You are beautiful.”

His lips found Mok's skin, a particularly sensitive spot right where his collarbone met his shoulder. He lingered there, pressing his mouth against the throbbing pulse.

"You think you’re different?" Rome muttered against his skin, the words vibrating deep within Mok's chest. His hand, which had been resting flat against Mok’s stomach, suddenly gripped the hem and tugged it upward. “I don't care about different. I care about you.”

Mok let out a shaky sigh that was half moan as Rome started unbuttoning the shirt.

And eventually when the whole shirt was opened, he immediately moved his attention to Mok's chest, his eyes darkening. He reached out and lightly brushed his thumb over a nipple, causing Mok to inhale sharply and arch his back. “This,” he stated, his voice a low, possessive rumble, “is exactly what I dreamed about.”

Mok reached out, his fingers finding Rome's shoulder, gripping hard. He couldn't form words, all he could feel was the intense, demanding focus of the man above him. The pressure became too much, too sharp and a choked sound escaped him, “Khun Krit…”

Rome twisted his nipple between his thumb and finger.

Mok's eyes squeezed shut, his head thrashing slightly on the pillow. He could only manage a choked sound that was half moan, half plea.

Rome pressed his mouth fiercely to Mok’s, cutting off whatever he was about to say next. He pulled back and nudged his thigh roughly against Mok's cock.“Don't call me that,” Rome commanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly, dangerous whisper. He paused, watching Mok’s reaction, then slowly deliberately, dipped his head and licked the skin beneath Mok’s ear.

Mok's breath shuddered out in a drawn out sigh, “Khun…”

Rome's eyes flashed with heat. “That's it,” he affirmed. “Call me Rome.”

Mok swallowed hard, his jaw clenched, unable to give the simple word. The old habit of calling him by his formal name was lodged stubbornly in his throat, competing with the raw desire.

Rome didn't wait. He leaned forward, his weight pinning Mok to the mattress and without a word, he began to move. Slow and continuous grinding presses of his hips against Mok’s cock, leveraging the angle so the contact was deep, hot and deliberate. He used the friction, the heavy, intimate pressure of his body against Mok’s, to edge him to the peak.

Mok gasped. Not only was he heavily turned on but being edged was painful as well. His whole focus was entirely on the rhythmic grind. He gripped Rome’s shoulders, his nails digging in as a wave of pure sensation broke over him.

“Say it,” Rome commanded, the words strained and breathy as he continued the torturous rhythm, his eyes holding Mok's. “Tell me my name.”

Mok’s hips instinctively bucked upward, seeking relief, only increasing the friction. Another moan left his mouth, high and desperate, “Khun Krit!”

Rome stopped the movement instantly, hovering over him, his face inches away, an intense, almost pained look in his eyes. “No,” he ground out, the word thick with need. He lowered his mouth to Mok's ear, brushing his lips against the heat there. “It's Rome. Only Rome. Say it or I’ll stop”

This sentence alone stirred panic in Mok's chest, because all he wanted in that moment was a release. Desperation took over him and he couldn't stop trembling.

Rome started the slow press again, the deliberate friction driving Mok higher and closer to the edge.

Mok’s control finally shattered. The pressure was too much and the pleasure was blinding. His voice broke on the exhale: “Oh fuck.. Rome…”

A low, deep rumble of satisfaction vibrated in Rome's chest, a sound that felt more intimate than any touch. “There it is,” he murmured, his pace quickening slightly, dropping one hand to cup Mok's face, pulling him into a searing kiss.

He finally broke the long kiss, pulling back just enough to look at Mok. His breathing was still rough but his expression was softer now, a sudden almost tender smile cracking the intensity on his face. ​Rome didn't rush. He kissed Mok gently on the lips first, a sweet quick press that was a stark contrast to the demanding hunger before. He moved up, placing a feather light kiss on each of Mok's closed eyes.

​Mok let out a small, shaky sigh and finally opened his eyes, which were wide and slightly wet from the adrenaline.

​Rome shifted his head, kissing him right on the cheek near his ear. He looked down at the flushed, exposed face of the man beneath him.

​”You are so cute,” Rome said, the husky sound cutting through the thick atmosphere. He wasn't being challenging now, he sounded genuinely charmed, almost surprised by the sudden, overwhelming rush of affection. He tightened his arms around Mok, holding him close, chest to chest, letting them both simply breathe and settle in the warmth of the moment.

“Now, do one more thing for me,” Rome murmured, his voice dropping low, serious. “Tell me you want more. Because I can't control this anymore.”

Mok swallowed, the shy heat rushing back to his face. He simply gave a quick, jerky nod.

Rome shook his head slightly, a small impatient smile playing on his lips. “Use your words, Mok. Say it.”

The pressure was back. Mok ducked his head, eyes focused on Rome's neck. He struggled for the simple phrase, the words finally coming out in a breathless, soft rush, “I want you.”

That was all Rome needed. With a fierce surge of energy, he pushed himself up off the bed, smoothly rising to his feet while maintaining unwavering eye contact with Mok, who was still sprawled out on the sheets.

Mok watched, mesmerized, as Rome's hands went to the hem of his shirt. He pulled it up, slowly peeling the fabric away from his tight, muscled torso. Mok’s breath hitched a sharp, audible sound at the sudden, stunning view of Rome's bare chest, his hands blindly gripping the sheets beneath him.

Rome tossed the shirt carelessly aside, never once breaking eye contact. His gaze was heavy, charged, demanding Mok witness everything. “Like what you see?” He unzipped his pants, the rasp of the zipper loud in the sudden quiet, and slowly pushed them down, letting them pool around his ankles. He stepped out of them, standing tall and utterly dominant in nothing but a pair of close fitting boxers.

Mok’s eyes were wide, tracing the hard, sculpted lines of Rome's body. The tension was an almost physical ache now.

Rome didn't hold the pose. He strode back to the bed, climbing over Mok. He leaned in and gave him an open mouthed kiss that stole Mok's focus completely. As the kiss deepened, Rome’s hand slid down Mok’s body, reaching the waistband of his remaining clothing. He slipped his fingers underneath the fabric, finding and gently rubbing his cock.

Mok gasped into the kiss, the unexpected, intimate contact pulling an involuntary moan from him. He couldn't help himself, he clung to Rome, his nails scratching Rome's back so hard, that the man above him groaned, as if in pain.

“Sorry, I am so sorry, are you…” Mok apologized. He was usually calculated with his each and every step, but Rome's hand on his cock made him so overwhelmed, he couldn't pay attention to his own actions.

Rome broke the kiss, “No, no, no, keep doing that, don't stop.” a predatory satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He quickly pulled back enough to grasp Mok's pants. With a swift, decisive move, he stripped the pants off and tossed them on the floor. Now, Mok was only in his underwear, vulnerable and completely open to the man who kneeled before him. He managed to shake his head slightly, a plea for the delay to end. “Please…”

Rome gave a low chuckle, a sound filled with dark affection. He shifted his fingers and started jerking his cock again, increasing the friction and pulling another sharp gasp from Mok.

“Soon,” he promised, his voice turning husky and deep. “Look at me and tell me, are you mine?”

Mok forced his heavy eyelids open, staring into Rome's intense, demanding gaze. The word finally tore from him, raw and desperate, “Yes, Yours.”

That confirmation did it for Rome. The intense control he’d been wielding snapped. His eyes went dark, blazing with a single minded need. He gave one final stroke , then abruptly shifted his weight and smoothly stood up, leaving Mok breathless and trembling on the bed.

Mok let out a low, shaky whine at the sudden loss of contact, his arms reaching out instinctively. The anticipation was a hot, screaming thing inside him. He watched, wide eyed, as Rome strode towards the dark wooden nightstand. He bent, opened the drawer with a quick pull and Mok could see his hand reaching inside, pulling out a few condoms and a small bottle of lube.

The sight of the preparation was so intimate, it filled Mok with a wave of shyness and excitement.

Rome was back instantly, kneeling between Mok's legs. He didn't speak. He just looked at Mok’s bare chest, his flushed face, the way his breath was catching in his throat.

Then, he leaned forward, his bare chest brushing against Mok’s legs and placed a slow, searing kiss right on Mok’s tummy. His lips traveled across the skin, moving lower, tracing the line of Mok’s hip, the heat of his breath making Mok shudder violently.

Mok squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a drawn out, needy moan. His hands fisted in the sheets, his body tightening in a mix of nerves and frantic readiness. He made a small, choked sound, a tight almost panicked whine, as Rome’s hands went to the final barrier.

With one tug, Rome gripped the edge of Mok's boxers and slid them down. They came off in a swift motion, catching on his ankles for only a second before Rome kicked them aside.

Mok gasped, completely exposed now, the cool air hitting his sensitive skin. The sheer vulnerability of the moment, with Rome's intense gaze sweeping over his body, was almost overwhelming. Mok bit his lip hard, a wave of heat washing over him, knowing there was absolutely nowhere left to hide. Rome was right there, breathing hard and utterly focused.

Rome lifted his head, his face inches from Mok's thigh, his eyes dark with unmasked desire. “See? Perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with reverence.

“When did you get these?” Mok managed, his voice strained with genuine confusion. He gestured vaguely toward the condoms sprawled on the bed.

Rome’s expression softened slightly, recognizing the nervousness beneath the question. “Mok” he said, his voice deep and steady. “I came prepared.” He lowered his head and pressed a hot, validating kiss right on the inside of Mok's thigh, causing a full body shiver.

He straightened up just enough to twist open the cap of the lube. The small pop of the plastic lid was the only sound in the tense silence. He poured a generous amount of the cool, clear gel onto his fingers.

Mok, completely exposed now, couldn't keep still. His eyes, fixed on Rome’s face were wide with a nervous mix of shyness and anticipation. He reached up, his fingers finding the edge of the sheet near his head and began fidgeting with the hem, picking at the loose thread. It was a nervous tic, a tiny distraction from the overwhelming intimacy.

Rome noticed immediately. His hand, heavy with the lubricant, paused inches from Mok's skin. “Hey,” Rome murmured, his voice softening, pulling Mok's attention away from the sheet. “What's wrong? What's the thread done to you?”

Mok flinched at the focus, quickly letting go of the fabric. He pressed his lips together tightly.

“Are you scared?” Rome asked, his expression shifting to one of genuine concern. He moved his hand, not to touch but to gently cup Mok's jaw. “I’ll be very gentle with you, Mok. We will go slow, okay?”

Mok just gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod against Rome's palm. But his anxiety didn't ease, he shifted restlessly on the mattress, his gaze flicking nervously toward the discarded condoms on the bed.

He was clearly holding something back.

Rome watched the silent struggle for a long, patient moment, then slowly pulled his hand away and sat back on his knees. All action stopped.

“Mok, look at me,” Rome commanded, his voice firm but without anger. “You have to tell me what's up. Otherwise, I’d be worried that I’m forcing you into something.”

Mok swallowed hard, his face burning, but the words finally tore out of him in a desperate, breathy rush. He nodded toward the packets on the floor. “Can we... can we not use that?”

These simple words landed with the weight of a physical blow. Rome froze entirely, his hand hovering mid air. The request was so raw, so loaded with trust, desire and reckless intimacy, that it completely took his breath away. His dark eyes widened, blazing with a mix of shock, immediate, profound tenderness and overwhelming, fierce adoration.

Rome leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Mok’s head, pinning him with an intense gaze. “You know what you're asking,” he stated, his voice now regaining its strength. “You know what I'm telling you if I say yes.”

Mok didn't pull away this time. He just held Rome's stare, his own eyes dark, the lingering nervousness replaced by a deep, quiet resolve. He gave a single, firm nod.

A devastatingly beautiful smile finally spread across Rome's face, a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated devotion. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against Mok's, closing his eyes.

“God,” he whispered. “Yes. Yes, we won't use it.”

Rome pulled back just enough to grab the lube bottle again. His hand, warm and heavy, slipped down Mok's body and he applied the cool gel to his hole with so much gentleness, so much care. Mok could genuinely cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a drawn out, shaky whine as the cool moisture met his skin. The feeling of Rome’s hands, now slick and deliberate, preparing him was almost unbearable. Mok’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed and glistening.

“You are doing so good,” Rome murmured, praising him softly as he drove a finger inside. He moved his finger slowly, easing into the first touch, his movements gentle. Mok tensed, a nervous tremor running through his body.

“Relax,” Rome murmured, his voice a low vibration against Mok's ear, instantly recognizing the anxiety. “I’m right here.” and slipped another finger inside.

“Fuck.” Mok gasped, clinging to Rome, his hands holding Rome's arms tightly, and again, “Fuck.” with a very low voice.

When he pushed the third finger inside, Mok let out a muffled sob and suddenly, the frantic tension broke. Tears, hot and unexpected, spilled from his eyes and tracked down his temples into the bed. It wasn't pain, it was the sheer force of everything. The years of missing him, the doubt, the intensity of Rome’s return, the vulnerability of this moment.

“Mok? Hey, what's wrong?” Rome pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with concern, quickly brushing the tears away with his thumb. “Did I hurt you?”

He just shook his head rapidly, unable to form words through the choked, messy emotion. “No,” he finally choked out, his voice wet. “I missed you…so much and now, you are here and I am happy.”

Rome simply kissed the tears from Mok’s cheeks, kissed his mouth with a deep, consuming tenderness, pouring all his reassurance into the connection.

With a final ragged breath, Rome shifted, repositioning himself carefully. He lifted the others legs and hooked them on his waist, lining himself against Mok.

“Look at me,” Rome commanded, his voice dark, fierce and utterly devoted.

Mok’s tear filled eyes locked onto Rome’s. He moved, slowly, deliberately pressing himself forward, inch by agonizing inch, into the warmth that waited for him.

Mok gasped, a sharp sound that quickly morphed into a low drawn out moan as the fullness of Rome's cock began to stretch and fill him. He squeezed his eyes shut again, gripping Rome’s hand.

Rome paused once he was fully seated, his chest heaving, his own control strained to the limit.

He started to move, the rhythm beginning as a slow rock. Mok’s moans became louder, more frantic, dissolving into soft, pleasure filled whines with every powerful thrust.

Rome kept his pace deep and measured, leaning forward to press his weight down, maintaining that devastating full contact. He looked down, his eyes dark with fierce approval.

“You are doing so good,” Rome praised him softly as he drove his hips forward. “You are perfect, you are everything.”

Mok’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed and glistening. He was totally lost in the sensation, barely able to process the words. "Rome, I can't…" he gasped, the end of the sentence stolen by a sudden, intense thrust.

Rome slowed immediately, the change in pace a sharp, agonizing test. "Slow down?" he asked, his voice rough. He eased back just slightly. “You need me to slow down?”

“Yes, but don't stop,” Mok whispered desperately, tightening his grip on Rome's shoulders and then, something he would have never expected “Pull my hair.” Mok demanded, the request tearing from him, raw and unexpected.

The demand shocked Rome so much that he entirely stopped thrusting, but a whine from Mok brought him back to the situation in hand. He took the cue instantly, gripping the hair at Mok’s crown, pulling back sharply and tilting his head to expose his throat. The movement was possessive, almost violent and it made Mok cry out a high pitched moan. “Oh my god, yes. yes.”

Rome plunged back into the rhythm with renewed force, his pace deep and relentless, maintaining the tight possessive grip on Mok's hair. He continued pushing deeper, harder, faster.

He bent his head, not releasing the hair and targeted a spot high on Mok’s neck, right beneath his jawline. He sucked a mark there and kept sucking hard, staking a possessive claim.

Mok screamed but the sound was swallowed by Rome’s fingers in his mouth. “Suck.” Rome ordered.

His free hand dropped down and held Mok’s cock, stroking him and adding one final, agonizingly perfect pressure. It was too much. Mok's back arched violently off the bed, a massive, shuddering release tearing through his body. “Oh fuck, I am gonna…” A loud raw guttural sound, less a moan and more an animalistic roar, tore from his throat, covering his chest with a white release. Mok came with only one name on his lips, “Rome, Rome, Rome…..fuck…Rome”

Rome didn't wait. As Mok's body tightened around him, he groaned. He released the tight grip on Mok's hair and threw his head back, letting out a “You are everything.” as he emptied himself into the man beneath him.

With the final release, Rome collapsed heavily onto Mok's chest, his breath coming in deep, spent gasps. He was utterly weighty, solid and completely done. Mok was still trembling, slick with sweat and emotion. The silence that followed was deafening, filled only with the sound of their two hearts slowly beginning to slow down.

Rome didn't move for a long moment, simply burying his face in the damp warmth of Mok's neck, heavy on his chest, a comforting spent weight. Mok slowly found his breath. “You're heavy,” he managed, the words catching on a tired yet soft laugh. It was a small, shaky sound but completely genuine.

Rome shifted his head lazily, nudging his chin against Mok's shoulder. “And you're cute,” he mumbled into the skin, lifting his head just enough to plant a damp, warm kiss on Mok's cheek. Mok immediately felt the familiar flush creeping up his neck.

Rome noticed instantly and pulled back slightly, resting his weight on his elbows so he could look down at Mok's face. His eyes were soft, amused and fiercely tender. “You don't get to be shy now,” he teased gently, his voice thick with post sex rasp. “Not after all we just did.

“Shut up,” Mok muttered, his voice muffled, unable to hide the redness.

Rome chuckled, a low satisfied sound that vibrated deep in his chest. He settled back down, resting his head near Mok's collarbone. The room was silent again, just the sound of their breathing evening out.

After about five seconds of peaceful quiet, Rome shifted, his tone turning serious, tinged with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his hand slowly, gently tracing the line of Mok's hip. “Does it hurt?”

Mok took a slow, deep breath, assessing his body. “Yes,” he admitted softly. “A little bit. But it's okay.”

Rome kissed his forehead, a lingering and protective gesture. “I'll be gentler next time,” he promised.

Mok nodded, then tried to push Rome off gently. “You're just pure dead weight. Let me get cleaned up.”

Rome didn't resist this time. He rolled off, collapsing onto his back beside Mok, breathing deeply. He reached out and caught Mok's hand before he could swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Let us both get cleaned,” Rome corrected, his eyes locking onto Mok's.

——————

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed reading<3

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