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Rome is twelve when he meets Mok for the first time.
The boy standing in the hallway, hovering close behind Kian, is tall, skinny in a way that speaks to an unfortunate side-effect, rather than a cosmetic choice. He’s probably the same age as Kian, maybe a year or two younger. From Rome’s vantage point on the landing, he’s able to watch as his parents greet Kian and the boy, embracing one and shaking hands with the other.
There’s really nothing special about the boy, nothing extraordinary—except for the fact that he watches Kian like a hawk, eyes sharp behind the glasses that keep slipping down his nose. He piques Rome’s interest purely because he’s an interloper in their space, a disruption in the carefully curated and outlined play they’re all acting in.
Rome watches him, staying hidden from sight like he’d learned to do so long ago. He takes note of the way his body relaxes almost imperceptibly when Rome’s parents leave the room. The way his head turns slightly when Kian clears his throat, like he’s waiting for something. An instruction, perhaps?
Consider Rome intrigued.
He hides as they come up the stairs and trails behind them as they make their way through the almost labyrinthian hallways to Kian’s room. Their house in Hong Kong isn’t nearly as ornate as their Bangkok one, and despite this being Rome’s childhood home, he always finds it difficult to navigate when he first comes back. He’s following at a safe distance, waiting for Kian’s door to close when he’s grabbed from behind and shoved up against the wall.
“Ow!” He twists around, alarm turning to angry confusion when he sees he’s in the grasp of the boy from earlier.
“What are you doing?” There’s an undercurrent of danger in the boy’s low voice. His grip on Rome’s arm is painful, more strength in his long arms than Rome expected.
“I’m not doing anything!”
“You’re skulking,” the boy hisses, pressing Rome into the wall.
“I am not skulking,” Rome protests, arm beginning to burn at the angle they’re being held at. “You can’t skulk in your own home.”
“Mok?” Kian’s voice floats around the corner.
“Phi!” Rome calls, squirming uselessly. “Get this idiot off me!”
“Phi?” Rome hears the confusion in the boy’s—Mok’s—voice, and feels the way his grip slackens just enough for Rome to twist out of his grasp.
Kian shakes his head as he approaches, an unimpressed look on his face. “Mok, it’s okay. He’s my brother.”
Mok immediately steps back, like a soldier standing at attention. “Sorry, Khun.”
“Where’s my apology?” Rome massages his arm, trying to get the feeling back into it. Mok is stronger and heavier than his thin frame suggests.
Mok stares at him, and Rome can sense the anger simmering just below his cool surface. He levels a glare at him in return, refusing to blink first.
“My apologies, Khun,” Mok grounds out through gritted teeth. “I was told Khun Thee had a brother, but I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”
“It’s his birthday weekend,” Kian says, before Rome can come up with a cutting retort. “This is really the only time he gets to come back to Thailand, which is why you haven’t met him before.”
Straightening up in an attempt to get closer to Mok’s height, Rome sees something shift on Mok’s face. There’s a flash of understanding, followed by something akin to pity. Rome hates it, but it’s better than the angry stare he had previously been subjected to.
“I’m sorry, Khun Rome,” Mok says, quieter this time, and Rome knows he isn’t apologizing for manhandling him.
“Thank you,” Rome answers. He doesn’t say ‘it’s okay’ or anything else that might suggest he’s at all okay with the living situations he and his brother have been forced into. He simply thanks Mok, a stranger to him, for understanding so immediately what the rest of his family have never managed to grasp.
Mok nods, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He’s interesting, this boy. Different… Rome decides then and there he likes him. As a person, as a friend for Kian. As a distraction from the monotony of his life.
Rome is seventeen the first time he receives a gift from Mok for his birthday.
“What do you want for your birthday, Rome?”
It’s the same question every year; his answer has never changed.
“I want to come home, Phi.”
Kian sighs into the phone, and Rome can easily picture his facial expression—irritation mixed with sympathy.
“You know you can’t, Rome.”
“I don’t see why not! I used to come home every year, I don’t understand what’s changed.” Rome flops backwards onto his bed, tossing the phone onto the pillow next to him.
“The threats are—”
“There’s always threats, Phi,” Rome whines, not caring how childish he sounds. “There’s threats here, there’s threats there—everywhere we go, there are threats. All I’m asking is for a few days with you in Thailand, is that too much to ask?”
“You’re not a kid anymore, Rome. You’re almost an adult, and the people who target us won’t ignore you anymore. You’ll become a target, just like…” Kian trails off, and Rome feels a twinge of sympathy.
He knows exactly what Kian was about to say. Just like me. It hits Rome then, just how selfish he sounds. Kian lives miles apart from the rest of the family on a permanent basis. As the younger brother, Rome still gets to keep his parents close by, but Kian has no one. No one except Mok.
“It’s not safe,” Kian concludes, and Rome objectively knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it, not at all. Kian sighs, accurately reading Rome’s silence for what it is. “I’m sorry, Nong.”
“I know, Phi. Goodnight,” Rome mumbles, forcing back tears. He’s being silly and selfish, and he doesn’t want to cry over something like this, not to Kian.
“Goodnight.” Kian’s voice is soft, and Rome hangs up before he does something stupid like start sniffling.
His phone screen hasn’t even faded to black yet when he heard a text notification. Seeing it’s from an unknown number, he sighs
If you can find your way to Thailand, I’ll help cover for you.
what? who is this?
Mok.
I heard your conversation with Khun Thee. I understand wanting to go home, even if it’s just for a short time. If you can find a flight, I’ll talk to Khun Thee. I can get him to convince your parents to let you come.
you’d do that? for me?
Of course.
Happy birthday.
When Rome touches down in Thailand, the first familiar face he sees is Mok’s.
“You came to pick me up,” Rome says, a grin threatening to split his face in two.
“Of course, Khun Krit. I wouldn’t leave you alone on your birthday,” Mok says, with a small smile of his own. “I’ve asked the staff to have all your favourites ready. How long are you able to stay?”
“Just the weekend,” Rome says, letting Mok take his bag.
“Well, I guess we better get going. We don’t want to waste any time.”
Rome follows close behind Mok as he navigates the crowd and leads them towards the car. Frankly, Rome doesn’t care if they spend the rest of the weekend stuck in traffic—he doesn’t think any second spent with Mok could possibly be wasteful.
Rome is nineteen the first time he realizes he’s in love with Mok.
He’s drunk, trying and failing to forget that he’s leaving Thailand tomorrow to go back to Hong Kong. Alone. Again.
This time, his parents allowed him a whole week in Thailand. He’d been grateful for the extended time when they’d offered it, but now he just feels… a bit heartbroken, if he’s being honest. Getting to live for a week in his home country, with his brother, makes him ache for a life that’s been cut off from him.
Stupid family with its stupid rules and stupid complexes and stupid—Rome runs into a broad back and stumbles, only to be caught by strong hands—bodyguards.
“Are you okay?”
Rome blinks, trying to morph the double-vision in front of him into one solid person. “Mok,” he sighs.
“Yes, Khun.” Mok sounds like he’s smiling, but Rome can’t see it on the blur that is his face.
He frowns, reaching out to touch that smile with clumsy fingers. Mok lets him, of course. He let’s Rome get away with pretty much anything. “I don’t want to go,” Rome mumbles, tears threatening to start welling his eyes. “I miss everybody when I’m gone.”
“Khun Thee misses you too.” Mok’s large hands come up to circle Rome’s wrists, and he blames the alcohol for the way his mind and body react to that grip. “Even if he doesn’t say it.”
Rome shakes his head, his hair flopping over his eyes. He’s been wearing it unstyled this week, liking the freedom and movement. Truthfully, he likes the way Mok’s eyes follow the movement even better. “It’s not just P’Kian. I miss… you.”
Mok’s hands fall from his wrists, pulled back and away like Rome’s words scalded them. He’s much clearer now, and Rome can see panic written clearly on his face.
“Me?”
Rome’s a little dizzy with the combination of alcohol and no longer having Mok to lean on, but he persists. “Yes, you. Of course, you. Why not you?”
“Because you… You shouldn’t, Khun Krit. Miss me, I mean.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m—”
“Because you’re the reason I get to be here at all? You’re the reason I get to come home, even if its just for my birthday. You’re the one who books the flights, picks me up from the airport, makes sure all my favourite things are here. You’re the only one who’s ever put in any effort, who’s ever cared.”
Mok looks pained as he shakes his head and takes a step back. “Your parents care. Khun Thee cares.”
“Sure, they care. They love me, I’m their son and brother. Of course, they love me. They care as in they don’t want me to get hurt, which is why they keep me separate. But they don’t care about what that does to me. You’re the only one who does. You’re the only one who sees it, sees… me.”
He knows he should shut up, but he’s leaving tomorrow and he’s tired of keeping his feelings locked inside. He’s tired of pretending getting to see Mok isn’t the highlight of his time in Thailand. The boy who was Kian’s friend first, then his bodyguard, who’s been hanging around the family since he was a child, there through all the shit, even if it was at a distance—Rome wants him. And he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t.
“Obviously, I miss you when I’m not here. I miss you every day I’m away. I go out for lunch, or I buy something, and I want to send you pictures. I want to spend time with you, I want to share things with you, I want… you. I like you.” It’s more than like, Rome knows it is, but he can’t say it. He’s already walking a fine line, admitting this to Mok; the last thing he wants is to scare him away entirely. If he had it his way, he'd declare his love and they'd move away to live happily ever after.
“Khun Kritdanai.” Mok sounds stern, but his eyes grow wide and slide away from Rome’s face, and Rome can see right through him.
Rome no longer feels drunk. He feels light, slightly tingly, but nothing is fuzzy at the edges anymore. Everything has been thrown into startling clarity, and it’s scary and exhilarating all at once.
“And I think you like me too.” Rome’s been thinking it for a while, cataloguing the tiny moments that prove to him that Mok feels the same way.
Mok is always so attentive, so observant, and the fact that he’s used those skills to pay attention to Rome, to make sure Rome has what he needs, that has to be a sign. The way Mok takes time off work, just so Rome won’t be alone at this grand mansion in Thailand, that has to mean something. And the way Mok’s eyes follow him, even when he thinks Rome isn’t paying attention, the way they dip to Rome’s mouth sometimes and linger for a second too long…
“I… That’s not—No, I don’t. I mean, of course I like you, but not like that. That would be highly inappropriate and you know that.”
Mok has a lot of skills, but lying to Rome is not one of them. Rome can see the blush rising in his cheeks, can hear the way his voice wavers, just slightly. He catches Mok’s eyes dipping again, like he can’t help it.
“Call me Rome, please, Mok.” Let go of propriety for once in your life.
“Khun Krit—”
“Rome. There’s no one else here, say my name, Mok. Stop hiding behind titles and be honest with me. With yourself. You like me. I like you. It’s simple.”
“It’s not.” Mok’s voice is hard as he takes another step back. “It’s not simple. I can’t… I just can’t.”
“You can,” Rome whispers, stepping forward back into Mok’s space. “You can, the only thing stopping you is you. Forget about titles, propriety, the family for just one second. Think about it—you can work for me instead. No one would bat an eye at the two of us spending time together, because you’d be my bodyguard. And then, when I take over from my father, I’ll get to make the rules. No one will be able to stop us.”
Rome can see the moment Mok begins to seriously consider his proposal. He can see him waver, a small frown forming on his face as he weighs his options. Rome is so close to having everything he wants, he just needs Mok to give in, to let himself be happy just one time.
There’s charged silence between them, so electric that Rome has to close his eyes to keep himself steady. He feels Mok move closer, back into his space, and he’s so sure Mok’s going to kiss him that he tips his head up, waiting for it. Rome feels Mok lean in close, can feel the tremble of his breath on his cheek, and then—nothing.
He opens his eyes to see Mok standing further away than before.
“I’ll get someone to take you to the airport in the morning, Khun. Get some rest. Let Khun Thee know when you make it back safely.”
For once, Rome can’t find any words. He just stands there as Mok leaves, his clipped pace echoing down the hallway.
And just like that, Rome is alone. Like always.
Rome is twenty-one the first time he fears for his life.
Rome will be the first to admit he’s gotten complacent. Even with Kian living in Thailand for his own safety, everyone still knows he’s the eldest Lee son, the true heir by all accounts, and so Rome had let his guard down. He’s started to ignore the voice in the back of his head that tells him to glance behind him as he walks down the street and to always note the exists in any room he enters. He’s begun to give his bodyguards the slip, just to see if he can, much to his father’s consternation and his mother’s panic.
So really, Rome has no one to blame but himself when the man who asked to bum a light pulled out a gun instead of a cigarette. His bodyguards caught up to him as he was being shoved into the back of the van, and he’d been able to shove his phone in his shoe after the van doors closed, so at least they can track him that way. That is, until the kidnappers search him more thoroughly and throw it away.
He just hopes they leave a body for his mother to bury, at the end of all this.
“Out! Get out!”
He’s lost track of how long they’ve travelled, the twists and turns of the road morphing into each other until Rome has no hope of attempting to guess where he’s been taken. His limbs are numb from being tied up, and when he doesn't move fast enough for the kidnapper’s liking, he’s yanked from the van and dumped unceremoniously in the dirt.
The sack over his head is ripped off, and he doesn’t even get a chance to cuss the man out before a gag is shoved in his mouth, bitter and dirty. The man pats him down, finding his wallet and the gun he keeps holstered at his back.
The gun was a gift from his father for sixteenth birthday, and Rome burns with rage watching the man handle it. The man tucks it into his waistband and begins thumbing through Rome’s wallet—another present, this time from Kian.
“Kritdanai Lee. The spare, not the heir. Well, we’ll take what we can get.”
Rome thrashes as he’s dragged up on shaky legs and marched into a derelict warehouse. He feels his phone in his shoe and hopes that someone is on their way to him. He’s shoved into a chair and tied down, yelling and cursing behind the gag the entire time.
“Save your breath,” the man says, kicking the chair. “No one can hear you in here.”
Rome’s muffled fuck you is heard loud and clear.
“We aren’t asking for much in exchange for you. Just 5 million yuan, nothing your family can’t afford. You’ll be out of here in no time.”
5 million yuan. Who is going to be able to get that kind of money out of their accounts in time? His father is out of the country on business, Kian is in Thailand, and his mother… Rome isn’t sure she’s going to be able to handle this, once she learns he’s missing. He imagines her hearing the news and collapsing to the floor in shock, much like she did when he wandered off in the shopping mall as a kid.
“Get comfortable, Khun,” the man says, his tone nasty. “Hopefully you won’t be here too long. And don’t worry. If your family dawdles, I’m sure we can find other ways to pass the time.” He flicks open a switchblade and pretends to inspect the blade.
Rome’s stomach drops. He really doesn’t want to find out what a man like that does to combat boredom.
There’s no way of knowing how much time passes. Rome struggles at first, tugging against the ropes until his wrists are raw and he can feel blood dripping down his fingers. The ones around his legs aren’t proving to be easier to break out of, and eventually he gives up, choosing to save his strength.
He’s beginning to run through his—admittedly, limited—options when he hears the warehouse door open and close quietly, like someone is trying not to attract attention. He hears soft footsteps come towards him and wishes he could turn around to at least face whatever, or whoever, is coming at him.
There’s hands at his wrists and Rome starts thrashing again, trying to knock the chair over backwards into whoever is touching him.
“Hey, hey—it’s okay.”
Mok? Rome settles immediately as Mok gets to work untying his wrists. Rome hisses with pain as the rope falls away, leaving his hands numb. The cuts are going to need medical attention, he can tell.
Next, Mok gets to work on the ropes around Rome’s legs, and Rome wants nothing more than to take the gag out of his mouth, but he can’t make his fingers work properly. Rome’s legs free, Mok finally looks up, noticing the gag in Rome’s mouth.
“Are you okay?” Mok asks as he unties it and gently removes the soaked fabric, making sure Rome doesn’t gag on it.
“You’re here.” Rome’s voice is hoarse and his throat his so dry he fights back off a cough, but he doesn’t care. “Mok.”
“I’m here. I’ve got you, come on.”
Mok helps him up onto mostly numb legs and lets Rome lean on him as he leads them towards the exit. Rome has so many questions, but he knows now isn’t the time. Right now, he just wants to get out of this place.
The sun is too bright in Rome’s eyes when the door opens and he cries out against his will, closing his eyes tightly. He trusts Mok to deliver him to safety.
“Is he okay?” That’s Kian’s voice, coming from somewhere on Rome’s right.
“P’Kian? What are you—?”
“Quick, get him in the car. I’ll drive,” Kian orders, his voice falling away.
Rome hears an engine turn over and a car door close. He squints, wincing against the still too bright sun.
“Watch your head,” Mok warns, shielding Rome’s head with his hand as Rome bends to get in the backseat of the nondescript black car in front of them.
Mok moves to follow Rome into the car when, through the rear window, Rome sees the warehouse door open again. It’s the man from before, and he has a gun—probably Rome’s gun—raised towards them.
“Mok! Behind you!”
Mok whirls around, pulling his gun from its holster in one smooth motion. The sound of the gunshot echoes in Rome’s ears as the man crumples to the ground; from this distance, Rome couldn’t see where he was hit, but he’s sure it was a headshot, delivered withouth hesitation. Mok doesn’t spare the body a second glance as he gets in the car and slams the door.
“Drive,” he commands, and to Rome’s surprise, Kian doesn’t scold him or argue. Instead, he throws the car into drive and floors it, racing out of the lot like their lives depend on it—which, Rome realizes, they probably do.
“How are you here?” Rome rasps, letting Mok inspect his bleeding wrists.
“We’re in Hong Kong on business,” Kian says when Mok doesn’t answer. “Did mom and dad not tell you?”
Rome shakes his head, listening to Kian but watching Mok. Mok’s face is pinched, and there’s an almost imperceptible shake to his fingers as he rips off a strip from the bottom of his shirt and uses it to wrap Rome’s wrists.
“They took my gun,” Rome whispers, throat sore. “And my wallet.”
“Send a retrieval team,” Mok barks at Kian, busying himself with tying off the makeshift bandages. “Those were gifts.” He won’t look at Rome, and Rome can’t take it anymore.
“Mok?” Mok looks up at him then, and Rome notices his eyes are red-rimmed.
“You’re okay,” he says, more to himself than to Rome.
“I’m okay,” Rome assures him, taking his hands in his.
Mok nods, his eyes beginning to shine.
“You got me. I’m okay.”
Mok glances at where Kian sits in the driver’s seat, and Kian makes a show of checking every mirror but the rear one. Mok brings Rome’s hands, with their carefully bandaged wrists, up to his mouth and presses a kiss to them. It’s quick, over before Rome can really register it, but it’s real. As real as Mok coming to his rescue with barely any backup.
A wave of exhaustion washes over Rome and he lets his eyes close as he sways into Mok’s side. Mok wraps an arm around him to keep him steady, but doesn’t stop him from falling asleep.
Mok’s voice is quiet, barely heard above the sound of the engine as he murmures, “You can rest, Rome. I’ve got you. ”
Rome is twenty-three the first time he actually believes they have a chance at happiness.
Rome can’t quite believe that Kian is getting everything he’s ever wanted. A chance at a normal(ish) life with the person he loves, and a wedding to show for it—it’s everything Rome has dreamed about for years. And here Kian is, living it.
The wedding isn’t nearly as grand as Rome expected, considering his brother is one of the grooms, but Rome supposes smaller is better in this regard. There’s been little chatter about threats to the family recently, but there’s no reason to draw any unnecessary attention. And besides, if Rome knows Peach at all, he imagines unnecessary attention is one of his least favourite things.
Throughout the vows, Rome can’t help glancing to Mok. He looks relaxed, out of uniform for once in his life. The lighter colours suit him, even if he’s definitely thinner than the last time Rome saw him, and Rome thinks its a shame he doesn’t get to wear colours like that often. If he were Rome’s bodyguard, he could wear whatever he wanted.
But Mok doesn’t want that. Not even now, when it’s clear that Rome’s parent’s rules don’t have to define their lives the way they always thought they would. Rome had offered Mok a way out, not as his bodyguard, but as someone special to him, and Mok had chosen Kian. Like he always did. Like he always would.
Mok wouldn’t even admit he feels something—anything—for Rome, even though Rome knows he does. He’d offered to take care of the rest, he just needed Mok to say the words, and Mok had pushed him away. As usual.
It hurts, Rome can admit that. But he does his best to plaster on a smile for his brothers big day. The last thing he wants to do is drag the mood down, even if the person he’s in love with, who’s apparently allergic to his own happiness, is standing mere feet away, steadfastly ignoring him.
Well, if Mok wants to ingore him, that’s just fine. Two can play at that game.
Rome distracts himself by dancing with Plub, who he’s already decided is his favourite sibling. She’s spunky, where Peach is more quiet and reserved, which balances out Kian’s… Kian-ness perfectly. Plub though, Rome can tell, has no trouble speaking her mind, and he admires that immensely.
“It’s not like I don’t know,” she says as they sway safely side-to-side. It’s harder for her to step on his toes like this, and Rome’s big toe, with a bruise already forming, is thankful. “Like the thing with Khun Mok.”
That throws him off rhythm, and suddenly he’s the one stepping on Plub’s toes. “Sorry,” he mutters in English, unwilling to admit just how much she’s shaken him. “Let’s try again.”
Perhaps he’s being naive, but Rome hadn’t thought anyone had noticed the thing with him and Mok, except maybe Peach. Perhaps being annoyingly perceptive was genetic?
“You do want my help, right?” Plub asks, and Rome can’t help glancing to where Mok stands, talking to Kian.
“I don’t know if there’s any help you could offer that would work,” he says.
“Well, I just so happen to know that he’s about to get fired.” The smile on Plub’s face is at odds with the news, but Rome’s heart flips in his chest just the same.
“Fired? But P’Kian wouldn’t—”
“He would,” she interrupts, and at this point Rome is letting her lead, too lost in his racing thoughts to keep track of time and tempo. “He would if he knew it was the thing that could guarantee your happiness. Both of your happiness.”
“How do you even know this?” Rome asks, incredulous.
“You’re not the only one with a brother who knows how to get what he wants.”
Rome gapes at Plub, at a loss for words. Would Peach really do that? For him, someone he barely knows, and Mok, his husband’s bodyguard? “Your family is…”
“Your family too,” Plub confirms with a smile. “Best of luck!”
“Wha—?” Before Rome can really question anything he finds himself thrown into Mok’s arms, stumbling to keep upright. Mok catches him, because of course he does, and the letter that must be from Kian is still in his hand.
Rome looks at it, a growing smile on his face. “Oh. Too bad. You’ve lost your job.” He doesn’t sound the least bit sorry, and he isn’t going to pretend he is.
There’s a huff of laughter from behind him, and Rome turns to beam at his brother. He doesn’t say thank you, not yet, but he hopes his brother knows how grateful Rome is to him in this moment. When he turns back to Mok, he finds him looking at him with a smile on his face, and it sends butterflies soaring through his stomach.
Suddenly, Rome doesn’t care if they have an audience. He doesn't care that Plub, his brother, and probably his parents are watching—he just needs to kiss this man in front of him before he loses the chance. He leans in, delighting when Mok doesn’t move away, only to find a handful of paper shoved in front of his face.
“Calm down, Khun Rome,” Mok says, and Rome can’t.
Because Mok just called him by his name, and there’s nothing standing between them anymore. How could anyone stay calm when confronted with the rest of their life?
Mok is twenty-three the first time he lets go.
“Rome.” It’s a moan, more than a word, but it takes the shape of Rome’s name as it falls from Mok’s mouth and he thinks he’s a bit addicted to how it feels to finally get to say it.
Rome hums, sending vibrations through Mok that start at the root of him and continue up, until he swears his heart is sharing the same frequency. It feels wrong to have Rome on his knees in front of him, to be serviced in this way, but fuck if Mok couldn’t get used to it.
They’d barely made it to Mok’s room before Rome had pounced, capturing Mok’s mouth in a kiss that was years in the making. Mok had long regretted not kissing Rome when he’d been home for his nineteenth birthday, replaying the moment Rome had closed his eyes and tipped his face up, over and over until he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just made the whole thing up.
The way Rome had waited, so sure Mok was going to give him what he wanted… And now, here they were—Mok with his eyes closed and head thrown back, a hairsbreadth away from coming down Rome’s throat.
“Rome, wait—”
Rome releases him just long enough to smile up at him. “You can, Phi. I want you to. Please.”
Fuck. Rome calling him Phi, asking for what Mok is all too ready to give him—Mok doesn’t stand a chance. He comes, biting down on the meat of his palm to quiet the small cry that escapes as he shakes and his back arches away from the wall. Rome never once pulls away, swallowing everything Mok gives him.
When Mok starts squirming with oversensitivity, Rome pulls off with a soft lick to the head of Mok’s cock that has Mok swatting at him.
Through shaky breaths, Mok manages to ask, “Where did you…?”
“Learn to do that? I went to an all-boys boarding school, Phi. I know plenty.” Rome smirks getting off his knees to pull Mok in for another a kiss, letting Mok taste himself on Rome’s tongue.
A stab of jealousy shoots through Mok before he can rein in his feelings. Of course, Rome has been with other people. Why should he have wasted his time waiting for Mok when there were plenty of other men who had been willing and able to give Rome what he needed?
“You’re not jealous, are you Phi?” Rome’s looking at him in that way of his, his head quirked to one side, his sharp eyes searching Mok’s face for the truth Mok tries and fails to hide. “You are,” he says, a bit awed.
“I have no right to be,” Mok says, trying and failing to keep from blushing. “Your life is your own, of course you’re free to be with whoever you want.”
“Mhm.” Rome nods, taking Mok’s arms and turning to walk him backwards towards the bed. “Well, I want you.”
“You have me,” Mok whispers, losing himself in Rome’s eyes. He sees the moment the words hit Rome, the way his eyes begin to shine as his lips turn up in a shaky smile.
“I do,” he agrees, voice soft as he pushes Mok gently onto the bed. “Have you ever…?”
Mok shakes his head, not trusting his voice to keep steady at the admission.
“With a man? Or…?”
“With—” Mok clears his throat, “with anyone.” There had never been much opportunity, working for Khun Thee. Not that Mok would have taken it, even if there had been; he'd never thought about anyone but Rome—despite his best efforts not to.
If his admission takes Rome by surprise, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he nods, fingers moving almost absentmindedly to begin unbuttoning Mok’s shirt. The scars on his wrists have faded, but they’re still there, still a reminder of when Mok thought he lost him forever.
“Don’t worry,” Rome says, leaning down to whisper in Mok’s ear, “I’ve got you.”
CagedNightingale Tue 27 Jan 2026 04:08PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 27 Jan 2026 04:08PM UTC
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ImEasyEitherWay Wed 28 Jan 2026 02:46PM UTC
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