Chapter Text
Phuwin stood in front of the mirror, buttoning the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, tucked neatly into charcoal grey trousers. His hair was soft and natural, sleeves slightly rolled, and he looked—
Put together.
Tasteful.
Adult.
Boring.
Fourth, sitting on the bed with one leg crossed and a peach soda in hand, was visibly unimpressed.
“Okay but like… this isn’t a job interview, Phuwin.”
Phuwin didn’t even look back. “It’s a nice restaurant.”
“Yeah but it’s also a date with a man who made you come three times in his lap while whispering about positions.”
Phuwin flushed. “We’re not talking about that.”
“We’re always talking about that.”
Phuwin adjusted his collar again, checking it for the fifth time. “It’s clean, it fits, it’s fine.”
Fourth sighed like he was carrying the weight of all the world’s fashion mistakes on his shoulders.
“If you’re not gonna wear something slutty—which is your loss, by the way—then at least wear something underneath that makes up for it.”
Phuwin blinked. “What?”
“Underwear, Phuwin. Lingerie. A surprise. A gift-wrapped ass. Give the man something.”
Phuwin turned around, scandalized. “Fourth!”
“Don’t act shocked. Pond’s earned it. You said he’s taking you somewhere romantic. That means you reward him at dessert.”
Phuwin folded his arms. “I’m not planning to sleep with him tonight.”
“You weren’t planning to grind in his lap either, and yet—”
“Shut up.”
Fourth hopped off the bed and went to Phuwin’s drawer with zero shame.
“Do you at least own something black? Satin? Lacy? Hell, mesh? A discreet crotchless option—”
“Fourth.”
“You need to start dressing for your actual sex life, not the one you think you have.”
Phuwin groaned into his hands. “I hate you.”
Fourth held up a pair of fitted black briefs with gold trim. “These. If you’re gonna be boring from the outside, be dangerous underneath.”
Phuwin took them, face red. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m right.”
Fourth was spinning in the middle of Phuwin’s room like a stylist possessed, holding up underwear like it was battle armor.
“Listen,” he said seriously, “your ass is a gift. You need to wrap it like one.”
Phuwin sat on the bed, red-faced and frozen. “It’s just a dinner date.”
“It’s just a dinner date after you came three times in his lap, baby. You’re the main course. Dessert. The fucking after-hours menu.”
Phuwin groaned into his hands. “Can’t I just look… nice?”
Fourth held up a pair of scandalously sheer mesh briefs. “You can look nice and like Pond’s going to drop dead when he sees you.”
“He earned it, Phuwin. He’s been patient. You said he didn’t even fuck you that night. Just made you come and cuddled you like a gentleman. That man deserves to get it delivered, wrapped, bowed, maybe biting into a pillow—”
“FOURTH.”
Fourth just raised a brow. “Am I wrong?”
Later, after Fourth finally left, still muttering something about how Pond better treat Phuwin like a holy relic, Phuwin stood in front of the mirror.
He’d laid out two options:
The outrageous mesh brief Fourth threw at him like a weapon.
And something he never told Fourth he even owned.
Black.
Satin.
Just a whisper of lace at the edges.
Elegant, snug, a little sinful — not loud, not obvious, but intimate.
Something that made Phuwin feel good in his own skin.
Something that would absolutely make Pond feral if he saw it.
Phuwin hesitated.
Then slid them on.
And god—
They fit like a promise.
Soft around his hips, dipping just low enough, framing the swell of his ass like temptation itself.
He looked at himself in the mirror, cheeks warm.
He looked like someone about to ruin a man’s life.
“I’m not doing this for Pond,” he muttered.
“I’m doing it for me.”
But maybe also a little for Pond.
And his hands.
And the way he said: "Only I get to touch you like this."
Phuwin zipped up his trousers, adjusted his shirt, and grabbed his phone.
Checked the time again.
A second later, his phone buzzed.
Pond: “I’m downstairs already :)”
Phuwin stared at the screen, one brow twitching.
“We live in the same fucking building,” he muttered, even as he stood up.
Still, he went to the mirror, gave himself one last look.
Shirt neat, trousers perfect, outfit clean and quiet.
Maybe a bit too formal.
He reached for his black jacket to tone it down a bit — slim fit, simple, something to make the look feel more casual.
Then paused.
Sprayed his perfume again.
Just one more mist behind the ear, another over his chest.
Something soft, warm — something Pond always noticed when he leaned too close.
“Not doing this for him,” Phuwin mumbled.
“Just… freshening up. Obviously.”
He checked his hair.
Took a breath.
Then headed down.
The elevator doors opened to the quiet hum of the condo’s main lobby, and there Pond was — waiting just outside by the curb, leaning back against his car like something out of a damn movie.
Black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled once, just enough to show forearms.
Grey trousers, sharp and well-fitted.
A soft leather jacket over his shoulders, effortless but intentional.
Effortless.
But for Phuwin.
And he was looking at him.
Not his phone.
Not the time.
Just Phuwin.
Like he’d been doing nothing but waiting for this moment.
Phuwin stepped out slowly, his steps steady, but inside his chest something was flipping over itself.
Pond smiled the second he saw him — soft, pleased, and maybe a little breathless.
“Hey,” he said, pushing off the car to meet him halfway. “You look…”
He trailed off, eyes dropping briefly to take in the outfit, the neat shirt, the subtle black jacket.
“Beautiful,” he said finally. “As always.”
Phuwin rolled his eyes, heat prickling up his neck.
“You could’ve come upstairs, you know.”
Pond laughed. “And miss watching you walk toward me like that?”
Phuwin didn’t reply—just shook his head and tried to hide his smile as Pond opened the car door for him.
And just as Phuwin slipped inside, he felt Pond’s hand press lightly to the small of his back—just enough to feel the warmth of it through the fabric.
Just enough to make Phuwin ache under his satin and lace.
Pond slipped into the driver’s seat, glancing over at Phuwin with a soft smile.
“Comfortable?”
Phuwin nodded, adjusting the strap of his jacket. “Yeah.”
But Pond didn’t start the engine right away.
Instead, he leaned over, one hand brushing lightly against Phuwin’s chest as he reached across to help fasten the seatbelt.
His face came close — too close — and Phuwin froze, breath caught somewhere between his ribs and the base of his throat.
Pond smelled unfairly good — warm cologne, clean soap, and something so him it made Phuwin’s stomach flip.
“I got it,” Phuwin said, voice a little tight.
Pond just clicked the belt into place anyway, then lingered.
His hand brushed Phuwin’s chest again — casually, slowly — and then he leaned in just an inch more.
Pressed a soft, warm kiss to Phuwin’s cheek.
“Hi,” Pond whispered near his skin, voice a little lower now. “Figured I should say hello properly.”
Phuwin swallowed.
His cheek tingled.
His heart stuttered.
“That’s… not how people usually say hi.”
Pond sat back in his seat, smiling, one hand already on the gear shift.
“It is when they’ve been thinking about someone all day.”
Phuwin looked out the window, face hot.
Lace and satin suddenly felt very dangerous.
Pond pulled out of the condo lot smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually in his lap.
The night outside was quiet, city lights gliding past, and inside the car everything felt still but alive.
“You can pick the music,” Pond said softly.
Phuwin blinked. “You trust me with that?”
Pond glanced over. “I trust you with a lot more than that.”
Phuwin pretended to ignore the way his heart thumped and reached for the phone hooked up to the car screen, scrolling through playlists until he settled on something mellow, atmospheric—background enough not to distract, but enough bass to feel in the chest.
Just as the first track started, Pond reached into the compartment between the seats and pulled out a slim black glasses case.
Phuwin glanced sideways as Pond popped it open and slid the frames on.
“You wear glasses?”
Pond hummed. “Only when I drive. Or work too much. My eyes get tired.”
“You didn’t wear them the other night.”
Pond smiled, eyes still on the road. “Didn’t want you thinking I was too hot to handle.”
Phuwin definitely stared.
The glasses suited him—thin black frames, subtle, clean.
They softened his features just enough to make the sharp line of his jaw more dangerous.
The contrast of his black shirt, the light from the dashboard dancing over his profile—it was unfair.
“You look…” Phuwin started, then swallowed. “...fine.”
Pond smiled again, just a little smug now. “Fine?”
“Shut up.”
Phuwin looked away quickly, but not fast enough to stop sneaking glances.
Pond’s hand resting so close to the gear shift.
His fingers flexing.
His forearms under the rolled sleeves.
The quiet concentration in his face as he drove.
And Pond—
Pond was glancing, too.
Catching glimpses of Phuwin’s thighs framed by neat trousers, of his hand smoothing down the jacket in his lap, of the soft arch of his neck when he leaned against the seat.
Pond’s hand twitched slightly against the gear stick.
He didn’t reach out.
Didn’t touch.
Didn’t slide his hand across the center console to grab Phuwin’s thigh even though every nerve in him ached to do just that.
The tension wasn’t awkward.
It was anticipation.
Like both of them were playing a game they already knew the ending to.
A simmering kind of silence filled the car—soft music, engine hum, and two people sitting too close, too aware, but holding it just a little longer.
Pond finally exhaled, slow and steady.
“You smell really good,” he said, like he’d been trying not to say it for the last ten minutes.
Phuwin smiled to himself, looking out the window to hide it.
“Didn’t think you’d notice.”
Pond laughed under his breath. “I notice everything about you.”
And Phuwin’s thighs?
They stayed untouched.
But both of them were counting the seconds to dessert.
The drive wasn’t awkward.
They talked.
About the music.
About a mutual neighbor with an annoying dog.
About the way Phuwin's classes were finally easing up.
About Pond’s upcoming project.
It was easy—too easy for how not casual this was.
But underneath every laugh and every glance was the unspoken hum of awareness—the way Pond’s fingers tapped the steering wheel when Phuwin crossed his legs, or the way Phuwin kept catching himself watching Pond’s profile behind those glasses, wondering what those hands would look like on his thighs instead of the gearshift.
When they pulled into the restaurant’s small parking lot, Pond turned the engine off but didn’t move right away.
Phuwin unbuckled slowly.
Their eyes met across the console.
A second.
Then two.
Too long.
Too quiet.
Phuwin was the first to glance away, biting back a smile. “You gonna walk me in or stare all night?”
Pond huffed a laugh, pulling off his glasses and tucking them away. “Both.”
Pond walked around to his side, met him by the passenger door, opening it without a word.
Phuwin stepped out, fixing his jacket—and Pond’s hand brushed lightly across his back as they walked.
It stayed there for a second too long.
Not heavy.
Not possessive.
Just warm.
Steady.
Like he was there.
Phuwin didn’t say anything.
He didn’t need to.
When they reached the entrance, Pond opened the door for him, stepping slightly to the side, and their hands brushed again—bare skin on skin this time, knuckles, fingers, barely a touch but enough to make Phuwin’s pulse stutter.
“Thanks,” Phuwin said quietly as he stepped in.
“You’re welcome,” Pond answered, voice low behind him.
The restaurant wasn’t anything flashy—no chandeliers, no white tablecloths.
But it was warm.
Cozy.
Dim lighting and soft amber lamps, wood tones, the smell of something roasted and spiced floating from the kitchen.
And the corner table Pond had reserved?
Private.
Tucked away.
Half-circle booth with cushions, facing inward, letting them sit close but not crowded.
Pond slid in first.
Phuwin followed.
They sat just far enough apart to be polite.
But not far enough to forget the warmth radiating between them.
“Nice place,” Phuwin said softly, glancing around.
“Figured you’d like something quiet. Easy.”
Pond smiled gently. “I wanted to talk to you. Not yell over loud music or overpriced appetizers.”
Phuwin looked at him.
Really looked.
And for a second he didn’t care if Pond saw it—that quiet, soft flutter in his chest.
The way his fingers twitched like maybe they wanted to be held.
He folded his hands in his lap instead, thighs brushing Pond’s under the table.
Pond didn’t move away.
The tension hadn’t snapped.
But it was there.
Soft.
Warm.
Waiting.
The food came out slowly—shared dishes in the center of the table, steam curling gently in the low light.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was comforting: grilled meats, jasmine rice, small bowls of dipping sauce, roasted vegetables, spicy stir fry.
Phuwin reached for a spoon to serve himself, but Pond was already moving—quietly scooping a bit of everything onto Phuwin’s plate.
“You didn’t have to,” Phuwin said, watching him.
“I wanted to,” Pond said without looking up.
Them smiled to himself —shy and smug all at once.
Like he was proud to do things for Phuwin.
Like he wanted to know more.
They talked between bites.
Not about anything grand at first—food, work, music.
But somehow it spilled into stories.
Pond talked about growing up by the beach, how he hated papaya salad until he turned sixteen, how he used to help his aunt photograph weddings every summer.
Phuwin admitted he learned how to cook because his older brother never let him near the stove as a kid.
How his favorite thing was people-watching at cafes.
How he never expected to like city life, and now he couldn’t imagine leaving.
And then—
“You’re quieter than I thought you’d be,” Pond said softly, eyes focused on the way Phuwin stirred his rice.
Phuwin raised a brow. “You thought I’d be loud?”
“Not… loud. Just… meaner,” Pond grinned. “You had this look when I moved in like you were gonna murder me in my sleep.”
“That’s just my face.”
Pond laughed.
Phuwin tried not to smile, but it cracked through anyway.
Every few minutes, their legs brushed under the table.
First by accident.
Then... not so much.
A soft tap of a knee.
A press of Pond’s calf.
A stretch of Phuwin’s foot.
Neither of them moved away.
There was something safe in the closeness.
Like the booth was a bubble.
Just them.
Just this.
At one point, Phuwin looked down to refill his own plate, only to find Pond’s hand already there, giving him more vegetables, spooning sauce carefully over the rice.
Not feeding him—he was clearly too shy for that—but still… offering.
Like he didn’t know how to say it out loud yet:
Let me take care of you.
Phuwin glanced up, eyes catching Pond’s.
Pond froze with the spoon halfway back to the dish, eyes wide like he’d been caught.
“You’re doing it again,” Phuwin said.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
Pond didn’t deny it.
“I like looking at you.”
Phuwin’s chest tightened, a soft flutter blooming deep in his stomach.
The food cooled slowly, conversation stretching, deepening.
Time slipped past unnoticed.
And Pond?
He was earning him—minute by minute, story by story, glance by glance.
Even without his hands on Phuwin’s body, even without the teasing, filthy words—
He was getting closer.
And Phuwin let him.
The plates had been cleared, their drinks half-full, the air between them warm from stories and stolen glances.
The restaurant buzzed quietly around them, but in their little corner booth, it felt like the night had slowed down just for the two of them.
Pond leaned back slightly, fingers curling around the rim of his glass.
“I was gonna bring flowers,” he said suddenly.
Phuwin blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
Pond glanced at him, then away, a little sheepish.
“I thought about it. But I didn’t know if you’d like it. Or think it was… I don’t know. Corny.”
Phuwin stared at him.
Corny?
He was sitting here with black lace hugging his hips, satin soft under his trousers, legs crossed just so—because some dumb part of him wanted to feel pretty tonight.
For Pond.
And Pond thought flowers would be too much?
Phuwin scoffed under his breath, eyes rolling.
“How would I think that’s corny?”
Pond looked back at him, slightly surprised.
Phuwin paused, lips parting.
He wasn’t going to say it.
But it came out anyway:
“Just… bring them next time. Don’t overthink it.”
There was a second of silence.
Just long enough for both of them to hear it.
Next time.
Pond’s lips curved slowly, the softest, warmest kind of flirt creeping into his smile.
“So… there’s gonna be a next time?”
Phuwin went still.
Then rolled his eyes—but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t get cocky.”
Pond leaned in just a little, elbow on the table, chin in his hand.
“Too late. You told me to bring flowers.”
“I told you not to overthink it.”
“And now I’m overthinking what kind.”
Phuwin gave him a look, biting back a grin. “You’re impossible.”
Pond grinned wider. “You like it.”
Their legs brushed again under the table.
Neither of them moved.
And the space between them?
It wasn’t just romantic anymore.
It was charged.
Flushed with the promise of something more—sweet, filthy, real.
As they stepped out of the restaurant, warm night air brushing against them, Pond glanced over at Phuwin with a little smile playing at his lips.
“Wanna go somewhere else?” he asked casually, unlocking the car.
Phuwin raised a brow. “Like where?”
Pond shrugged like it was nothing, but there was a light in his eyes.
“There’s an arcade not too far. Could be fun.”
Phuwin blinked. “An arcade? Seriously?”
“Unless you’re scared to lose.”
Phuwin scoffed, slipping into the passenger seat. “Drive.”
The place was neon-lit and buzzing with sound—machines blinking, pop music playing through crackling speakers, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy hanging faint in the air.
Pond paid for tokens at the front, handing half to Phuwin without a word, and Phuwin caught the little smile on his face when their fingers brushed.
“Alright,” Phuwin said, cracking his knuckles. “What do I have to beat you in first?”
Pond laughed. “Cocky already?”
“You literally just made me pick music and fed me like a boyfriend. Let me have this.”
They started with something simple—basketball hoops.
Phuwin hit three in a row.
Pond missed his first shot and immediately groaned.
“Wait—wait—this is rigged—”
“Uh huh.”
“I wasn’t ready!”
They moved to racing games next, the kind with vibrating chairs and fake wheels.
Phuwin lost by two seconds and blamed the machine.
Pond called him a sore loser.
“It lagged.”
“It what?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Then came air hockey, loud and fast and a little too close across the narrow table.
Pond’s hand grazed Phuwin’s when they both reached for the puck.
Phuwin flinched.
Pond smirked.
It was playful.
But it was charged.
Every game, every glance, every laugh—it layered on top of everything they already shared over dinner.
Phuwin could feel it.
This wasn’t just about want anymore.
It was fun.
It was easy.
It was real.
And Pond?
Pond was winning him over.
Minute by minute.
And he didn’t even know how hard Phuwin had already fallen.
It was one of those claw machines—the kind that never gave anything away unless you were painfully good or stupidly lucky.
Pond, apparently, was the latter.
With a quiet, concentrated frown and a little tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth, he somehow managed to hook the claw around the neck of a neon-pink strawberry plushie wearing sunglasses.
The machine clunked.
The toy dropped.
And Pond, beaming like a five-year-old, turned to Phuwin with outstretched arms.
“For you.”
Phuwin looked at it, unimpressed. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“It’s wearing shades.”
“So are you, sometimes.”
Phuwin snatched the thing out of his hands with a dramatic sigh—but hugged it anyway.
Arms curling around the plush like it meant something more than it should.
Pond didn’t say anything.
Just smiled.
A few minutes later, they wandered toward the snack counter, the arcade still humming around them.
Phuwin pointed to a small pack of strawberry mochi—soft pink, Pond’s favorite, and something he always pretended wasn’t a weakness.
“Want something?” Phuwin asked casually.
Pond nodded. “Buy it for me.”
“You could buy the whole counter.”
“Yeah, but I like when you do it.”
Phuwin muttered under his breath, cheeks warm, and handed over the money.
Pond leaned close while he did, hand sliding around Phuwin’s waist—brief but steady.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” he said casually. “Be right back.”
Phuwin nodded, fiddling with the plushie in one arm and the mochi in the other.
Pond was gone maybe five minutes.
Phuwin didn’t think much of it, just stood near the wall, scrolling his phone one-handed, trying not to look like he was waiting.
When Pond came back, he wasn’t alone.
In his hand—a small, simple bouquet.
Wrapped in brown paper.
Not dramatic.
Not showy.
Soft yellow.
A little white.
Green tucked between.
Phuwin stared.
“What’s that?”
Pond shrugged, casually holding it out.
“You said to bring them next time. Thought maybe now was next time.”
Phuwin took the flowers slowly, eyes flicking from the bouquet to Pond’s face.
“You’re so silly,” he muttered, voice a little too soft to sound annoyed.
Pond smiled.
“You like them.”
“Shut up.”
But Phuwin didn’t let go.
He held them close—bouquet in one hand, dumb plushie in the other—and maybe he looked like a walking cliché.
But he didn’t care.
Because it was Pond.
And Pond was slowly—beautifully—making everything feel like more.
The night air had cooled, the arcade buzzing quieter behind them as they stepped outside into the soft glow of street lamps.
Phuwin held the strawberry plushie under one arm, the small bouquet cradled gently in the other.
His steps were slower now, like part of him didn’t want the night to end.
Pond walked beside him, close enough that their sleeves brushed every few seconds.
His head tilted slightly, glancing at Phuwin every now and then, like he was memorizing something.
They didn’t talk.
Not for a while.
Just walked.
And then—
Their hands brushed.
Once.
Twice.
And the third time, Phuwin didn’t move away.
His pinky hovered against Pond’s for a heartbeat too long.
Barely a touch, but enough to feel everything—the anticipation, the electricity, the soft echo of every word and glance they’d shared all night.
Then Pond's fingers gently curled around his.
Not forceful.
Not shy.
Just there.
Phuwin let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Looked down briefly at their joined hands.
It fit.
Too well.
Pond’s thumb brushed lightly over the back of Phuwin’s hand.
And then, without a word, he let their hands sway softly between them as they kept walking.
Phuwin tried not to blush.
He really tried.
But his chest felt warm and stretched, the lace under his trousers suddenly too soft, too intimate, like the night had peeled him open without even trying.
“Wanna head back?” Pond asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Phuwin said, voice soft.
They didn’t let go of each other’s hands.
Not through the parking lot.
Not when Pond opened the passenger door for him.
Not even when Phuwin climbed in and Pond gently helped him fold the plush and bouquet onto his lap like it was something precious.
Pond only let go when he had to walk around to the driver’s side.
And even then—his fingers lingered.
And Phuwin?
He sat there, holding pink fluff and yellow flowers, in black lace underwear no one else could see, thinking—
This was a date.
Not a hookup.
Not a tease.
A date.
And somehow that made him feel more exposed than anything.
The car was quiet—soft music playing low from the speakers, something slow and pulsing, a rhythm that matched the way Phuwin’s heart was starting to thud again.
Pond was focused on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting idly near the gear stick.
Every so often, his eyes flicked sideways—catching the way Phuwin hugged the ridiculous plush in his lap, bouquet gently folded over it like it was part of the same treasure.
The closer they got to the condo building, the quieter it got.
Not awkward—never awkward.
But dense.
Like the night didn’t want to end yet.
Like something was about to tip over.
Their glances got longer.
Phuwin's fingers curled into the plushie a little tighter.
Pond’s jaw flexed, like he was trying not to say something too early.
Then—halfway through a red light—Pond’s hand moved.
From the console.
To Phuwin’s thigh.
It rested there first.
Just weight and warmth.
Then squeezed—softly, slowly—thumb brushing against the inner seam of Phuwin’s trousers like it belonged there.
Phuwin’s stomach flipped so hard it made his breath catch.
“Okay?” Pond asked, eyes still on the road.
Phuwin nodded.
Said nothing.
Because yes.
Because finally.
Because Pond’s hand felt too good on his thigh, heavy and hot and deliberate.
And Phuwin?
He didn’t want to get out of the car.
By the time they pulled into the lot, everything felt different.
Pond didn’t move to open the door.
His hand stayed.
Their eyes met again in the low cabin light.
Not long.
Not intense.
Just… knowing.
The date wasn’t over.
Not really.
Something was still waiting.
And both of them felt it.
They stepped into the elevator together, and the space felt immediately smaller.
Not just in size—but in air, in distance, in everything they’d kept on a slow simmer all night.
Phuwin stood near the panel, plush and flowers still in his arms, and reached to press his floor—
But Pond’s hand was already there.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” Pond said simply, voice low behind him.
It wasn’t a question.
Wasn’t a suggestion.
Just something he was going to do.
And his hand didn’t move from the button.
It slid instead.
Down.
Then across.
Resting easily, almost casually, on Phuwin’s waist.
Warm.
Confident.
Possessive in the softest way.
Phuwin didn’t say anything.
But the lace under his trousers was tingling, sharpening every sensation—the heat of Pond’s palm, the quiet pressure of his fingers on the curve of his side, the closeness of Pond’s breath at the back of his neck.
Pond wasn’t flush against him.
But he was close.
Close enough for Phuwin to feel his presence everywhere.
Close enough that the scent of his cologne—still clinging from dinner and car ride—was wrapping around him.
The numbers blinked slowly.
5…
6…
7…
“You okay?” Pond asked, just above a whisper.
Phuwin swallowed.
Nodded once.
“You sure?”
Pond’s thumb brushed over his waist gently, deliberately.
Phuwin’s voice came out quieter than intended.
“You’re the one touching me.”
Pond smiled softly behind him.
“Can’t help it.”
The elevator dinged.
Their floor.
Pond’s hand didn’t leave Phuwin’s waist as the doors opened.
If anything—it held firmer.
Guided him out.
Slow steps, walking close, shadows long in the dim hallway.
The night still wasn’t over.
And Phuwin’s skin burned with every second Pond’s hand stayed.
The hallway was quiet.
They stopped just outside Phuwin’s door, the soft click of his keys fading into silence.
The buzz of the elevator was long gone.
Nothing left now but the hum between them.
Pond didn’t say anything.
Neither did Phuwin.
They just… stood there.
Staring.
Not with awkwardness.
Not even with hesitation.
Just with too much in their eyes.
Too many feelings behind tight chests, too many thoughts they hadn’t said out loud.
The bouquet was still tucked gently in Phuwin’s elbow, the plushie squeezed to his side like he’d forgotten it was even there.
And finally—finally—it was Phuwin who broke the silence.
“I… I really enjoyed the date.”
His voice was soft.
Honest.
“Thank you. For… the flowers. And that stupid plushie.”
Pond’s smile was small.
Earnest.
“You’re welcome.”
He stepped closer—barely a breath of space between them now.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
Phuwin blinked. “What?”
“The second date.”
“Did you really mean there’s going to be one?”
Phuwin looked up at him.
And he nodded.
Just once.
Firm and sure.
“I meant it.”
They stared at each other again.
This time, their eyes flicked to lips.
Pond's hand shifted—lightly brushing Phuwin’s elbow, fingers resting near the bouquet like he wanted to hold it with him.
His breath was warm.
Close.
And then—he spoke again.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
Not a question.
Not rushed.
Not asking for permission—but giving it.
And Phuwin?
He didn’t move away.
Didn’t pretend to be surprised.
He just looked up, eyes wide and soft, voice barely above a whisper.
“Okay.”
And then Pond leaned in—slow, careful.
Their mouths met gently—nothing filthy, nothing rough.
Just honest.
Deep.
Deliberate.
The kind of kiss that says:
“I see you.”
“I want more.”
“Thank you for letting me try.”
Pond kissed him softly at first.
Like a secret.
Like something fragile, barely blooming.
But the second Phuwin felt those big hands on his waist again—firm and steady, like they belonged there—something in him tilted.
He pressed closer, fingers curling in Pond’s jacket, his lips parting with a soft, eager gasp.
And then—
Phuwin kissed him back.
Harder.
Deeper.
Tongue licking at Pond’s bottom lip before slipping in, demanding more, dragging a groan from Pond’s throat that echoed deep into Phuwin’s chest.
It was hot.
Wet.
Almost messy.
The kind of kiss that wasn’t about being polite anymore.
It was about need.
About everything they’d been holding in all night.
Pond’s grip on his waist tightened, pulling Phuwin flush against him, hips pressing into Pond’s front with just enough pressure to make both of them gasp.
Their mouths worked against each other like they’d kissed a hundred times already—like they knew.
And when they finally broke apart—lips swollen, breaths ragged, cheeks flushed—Pond didn’t move far.
He leaned in, voice low and raspy right by Phuwin’s ear, breath hot against the shell of it.
“Did I…”
“Earn more than just a second date?”
Phuwin froze for half a second, heart pounding.
Lace rubbing lightly under his waistband.
Pond’s hands still on his waist.
Their hips almost touching.
He didn’t answer right away.
But his body did—leaning forward, mouth brushing Pond’s jaw, eyes half-lidded.
“What do you think?”
“You really gonna ask that after kissing me like that?”
Pond groaned—deep, shaky—and his hands slipped a little lower.
The door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality.
The outside world faded instantly—leaving only the pulse in Phuwin’s ears and the warmth of Pond’s hands still holding his hips.
He kissed Pond’s jaw one more time—soft, deliberate—then turned around to unlock the door.
Pond didn’t stop touching him.
Even as Phuwin’s fingers worked the lock, Pond’s hands stayed firm at his waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles into his sides like he couldn’t not be touching him for even a second.
When the door finally opened, they slipped inside—quiet, breathless.
Phuwin laid the flowers down gently on the counter.
Placed the silly plushie right next to it, arms flopped to the side like it was watching them.
Pond watched everything.
Every step Phuwin took.
Every glance back.
Every little pause—and the way Phuwin’s hips moved just enough to make Pond’s mouth go dry.
His jacket felt too warm.
His shirt too tight.
And then—
“Take off the jacket.”
Phuwin’s voice was quiet.
Controlled.
But his eyes were burning.
Pond obeyed instantly.
Hands lifted in the air, pulling the leather down his arms, dropping it to the side without breaking eye contact.
He snickered—cocky, teasing—but there was tension in his jaw, in the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast.
“Like this?” he murmured.
Phuwin stepped forward.
Didn’t answer.
Just pushed him back—pressing Pond against the wall with a firmness that made Pond exhale sharp through his nose.
Then he kissed him again.
Harder.
A kiss with impatience.
A kiss that said: I’ve waited long enough.
Pond’s head tilted, arms coming around Phuwin’s waist immediately, gripping tight.
He groaned into the kiss, letting Phuwin take and take, letting himself be had.
Their mouths moved fast, hungry.
Tongues brushing, lips parting with gasps between.
And when Phuwin pulled back, just enough to breathe, Pond leaned his forehead against his.
“You gonna tell me what else to take off,” he whispered, voice rough, “or should I guess?”
Phuwin’s hands slid up his chest—slowly, teasing, possessive.
“Let’s find out how well you’ve been paying attention.”
Phuwin’s fingers moved slow—deliberately slow—as he unbuttoned Pond’s shirt one by one, the fabric parting like a secret being revealed.
Pond’s breath caught when Phuwin leaned in to kiss along his neck, lips soft, open, warm against the skin just below his jaw.
His head tilted back against the wall with a soft thud, hips pushing forward instinctively—
And Phuwin’s hand pressed him still, firm on his chest, lips curling faintly against his skin.
Pond’s fingers gripped Phuwin’s waist, the other hand sliding down—giving that plush, perfect ass a firm squeeze that made Phuwin’s breath hitch in his throat.
The shirt was open now, hanging loose over Pond’s sculpted chest, collarbones peeking out, skin glowing under the dim apartment lights.
And still—Phuwin didn’t stop kissing him.
Lower now, down his neck, dragging teeth just faintly, just enough to make Pond twitch against the wall.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at Pond’s face—eyes low, voice velvet-sweet.
“You know what to do with an open shirt like this?”
Pond blinked slowly, a dazed grin curving his lips.
“...Take it off?”
Phuwin raised a brow, lips twitching like he was trying not to smirk.
“Mm. Smart boy.”
Pond chuckled—low and breathless—and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft whisper of cotton.
Bare now, chest rising and falling, skin flushed.
And Phuwin?
His eyes dragged over every inch.
“Better,” he murmured.
His hand slid down Pond’s abs, tracing lightly over defined muscle, his thumb brushing just beneath the waistband of his trousers—
And then—
“Your turn.”
Pond’s voice dipped low, hand on Phuwin’s waist again, pulling him close.
“I’ve been dreaming about what you’re wearing under these pants.”
Phuwin smirked, but his ears went red.
Because Pond didn’t even know yet.
And it was almost cruel how much he was about to find out.
Phuwin’s voice was low, steady—but there was a spark in it.
A dare.
“If you wanna see what’s under these…”
“You’re gonna have to carry me to the bedroom first.”
Pond didn’t need to be told twice.
His grin turned hungry, hands gripping Phuwin’s waist tight—and in one smooth, strong motion, he lifted him up, arms scooping beneath Phuwin’s thighs, hoisting him like he weighed nothing.
Phuwin’s legs wrapped around Pond’s waist automatically, just like last time—but his breath hitched.
Because this time…
This time, everything was different.
The hallway felt longer.
The air felt thicker.
The silence between them pulsed with what Phuwin was wearing—with what he was about to show.
Pond’s arms were firm around him, muscles shifting under Phuwin’s touch as they moved.
And Phuwin held on—cheek brushing Pond’s temple, heart pounding fast and bright against his chest.
Nothing had changed about the bedroom since last week.
But they had.
And when Pond nudged the door open with his foot, stepping inside with Phuwin still in his arms, the atmosphere shifted.
The lights were soft.
The bed was there.
Waiting.
And the only thing louder than the creak of the door was the sound of anticipation.
Pond lowered him gently onto the bed, kneeling above him slightly, hands still on his hips.
And Phuwin?
He was tingling.
Every inch of his skin alive with the thrill of it.
Every part of him aware of the soft press of lace and satin beneath his clothes—what he’d put on just for this.
Pond didn’t know yet.
But he was about to.
And Phuwin?
He couldn’t wait to see his face when he did.
Pond leaned in, lowering himself above Phuwin on the bed, one arm braced beside his head, the other coming to cup his jaw.
He kissed him—slow but wet, lips dragging, mouths parting just enough to let breath mingle.
Not frantic.
Not rushed.
Just deep.
And when Pond pulled back slightly, eyes dark but soft, he whispered against Phuwin’s lips:
“Can I start finding out what you’re hiding under all this?”
Phuwin’s answer was a quiet nod—cheeks flushed, legs still curled around Pond’s waist.
Pond’s hand slid down, palm flat on his chest—firm, warm—feeling his heart racing beneath the fabric.
“You feel nervous,” Pond murmured.
“Shut up,” Phuwin whispered, breathless. “Keep going.”
Pond smiled against his skin.
And then—
He reached for Phuwin’s shirt.
Started at the bottom.
Button by button.
Each one undone with care.
Each one exposing more of Phuwin’s soft, flushed skin.
Pond kissed his chest as he went.
First the sternum.
Then to the side—brushing over his nipple with warm lips, then again, this time slower.
He felt Phuwin twitch beneath him, fingers curling in the sheets.
Pond mouthed there, teeth grazing just enough to make Phuwin gasp—and he kept going.
Down.
Kissing his way lower.
Phuwin’s belly tensed as Pond kissed along it, open-mouthed and slow, just above the waistband of his trousers.
Phuwin’s shirt was loose now, open wide, spread beneath him on the sheets like a frame.
Pond looked up, lips slick and eyes dark.
“You’re already shaking.”
“You’re already hard,” Phuwin shot back, voice rough, biting his bottom lip.
Pond chuckled, low and warm.
“Fair enough.”
But he didn’t move to tease more.
Not yet.
He just leaned back up to kiss Phuwin again—slower this time, almost gentle, his hand resting just at the edge of the waistband, thumb stroking softly.
“Can I see?”
He meant the lace.
The secret Phuwin had worn all night.
The thing he’d been aching to show.
And now?
Pond was asking.
His skin was warm, stretched over toned muscle, his chest rising and falling a little faster now—eyes heavy as he looked down at the boy beneath him.
But when Pond’s hands reached for Phuwin’s waistband—ready, wanting—
Phuwin caught his wrists.
Not harsh.
Not stopping.
Just pausing.
His cheeks were warm now.
Pink spreading down his neck.
Pond looked at him carefully. “You okay?”
Phuwin nodded.
Bit his lip.
Voice soft, hesitant—but sure.
“Just… do it slowly.”
It wasn’t embarrassment.
Not really.
It was anticipation.
Excitement.
The strange ache of being seen.
He wanted Pond to see.
He wanted to give this to him.
Because Pond had earned it—minute by minute, kiss by kiss.
Pond leaned down, kissed Phuwin’s lips gently, then his cheek, then the edge of his jaw.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll go slow.”
His hands moved with care, fingers sliding over the waistband, undoing the button with a quiet pop.
Then the zipper, inch by inch, the fabric loosening under his touch.
Pond’s breath caught the second he saw it.
Black.
Satin.
Lace.
Soft against flushed skin.
A delicate waistband.
And beneath it, Phuwin already hard, the fabric clinging in the most devastating way.
Pond stilled.
Eyes dark.
Mouth parted.
“Holy f—”
He stopped himself.
Swallowed.
Looked up.
Phuwin couldn’t meet his eyes.
His chest was rising fast.
“You wore this for me?” Pond said, voice thick.
Phuwin nodded once. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Phuwin looked at him now, face half-pout, half-challenge.
“Because you were supposed to see what you’re getting when you earn it.”
Pond groaned—actually groaned, hands gripping Phuwin’s thighs.
“You’re evil,” he whispered.
Phuwin smirked, but his thighs shifted open a little more.
The lace tightening over him.
“Then take your time unwrapping me.”
Pond stilled for a breath—like he couldn’t believe his eyes.
His fingers hovered above Phuwin’s hips, just barely grazing the satin, like touching would break it.
Satin.
Lace.
Snug around Phuwin's hips.
A little dark triangle hugging soft, flushed skin.
“God…”
Pond whispered it more to himself than to Phuwin, voice ragged.
His hand finally landed—softly, reverently—palming the front of those panties like he was afraid to press too hard.
Phuwin watched him, biting his lip again, cheeks pink.
Then, slowly, he cupped Pond’s face with both hands—thumb brushing his cheek, eyes low and warm.
“Do you like it?”
Pond laughed—a breathless, almost disbelieving sound that broke on a groan.
“Like it?”
His hands slid to Phuwin’s thighs again, spreading them wide without warning, just to see the lace stretch over soft, tender skin.
One hand drifted to cup Phuwin’s ass, still wrapped in the satin—squeezing hard this time, fingers sinking into softness.
And then he leaned in—close to Phuwin’s ear, lips brushing skin, breath hot and dark.
“I’m gonna show you exactly how much I like it.”
Phuwin barely had time to process it before Pond rolled his hips forward—just a little, just enough—
and his cock, hard and twitching, pressed against Phuwin’s hip through his boxers.
It throbbed.
And Phuwin felt it—long, thick, desperate already.
“You're so hard,” he murmured.
Pond grinned against his neck. “What do you expect? You wore this.”
His hand slid over Phuwin’s thigh, up the inside, fingertips teasing the hem of the panties.
He kissed Phuwin’s shoulder, slow and deep.
Then lower.
“Lie back,” he said, voice rough.
“I’m not stopping ‘til you know how perfect you look in these.”
Pond looked at him—really looked—like the sight of Phuwin laid out in lace had completely rewired his brain.
His hands framed Phuwin’s waist.
His mouth was still parted from that kiss.
His cock throbbed against Phuwin’s hip, angry and hard, begging for friction.
And Pond?
He was done holding back.
He leaned down and kissed Phuwin again—wet, deep, claiming.
Their mouths met with tongue, with breathless hunger, with the heat of everything they’d been holding in since the first moment their hands brushed.
Phuwin moaned softly into it, fingers twisting in Pond’s hair.
Then—
Pond pulled back, chest heaving, eyes burning.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered.
And then?
He moved down.
Kissing his chest again, but rougher now.
Open-mouthed kisses over flushed skin.
Sucking at his nipple until Phuwin whimpered, hips twitching.
Then lower—down his stomach, his soft belly, the waistband of the panties just barely holding back what Pond needed.
He mouthed over the fabric—hot breath seeping through satin, tongue pressing down right where Phuwin was hardest.
Phuwin gasped, hips bucking.
“Pond—”
“Shh,” Pond murmured. “Let me see.”
And then he pulled the lace aside—not off.
Just aside, slow and hungry, enough to bare him.
Phuwin, flushed and leaking, thick and pretty against black satin.
Pond groaned—genuinely groaned—hands shaking as they framed Phuwin’s thighs again.
“You wore this for me,” he said, half to himself. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
And then he took him into his mouth.
No teasing.
No pretense.
Just warm, wet, desperate worship.
Phuwin’s head hit the pillow, his eyes flying open wide.
“Oh my—fuck—”
He hadn’t expected it.
Not like this.
Pond didn’t even take the panties off.
Just pulled them aside.
Let them frame the moment.
Black lace still clinging to soft thighs, satin bunched at his hips.
And Pond?
He was down there already, behaving low like he was starving.
Phuwin’s moans filled the room, raw and breathless, hands sliding into Pond’s hair, fingers tugging before he even knew what he was doing.
“Pond—Pond—”
Pond pulled off just enough to breathe, a slick sound following him.
His mouth was flushed.
Wet.
His eyes dark and glassy.
“You taste so good.”
“And you look so pretty like this, fuck—this lace—”
“Wanna ruin you in it.”
Phuwin whimpered.
He didn’t even care how wrecked he sounded.
His legs trembled.
His hips bucked.
Pond’s words burned in his ears and settled low in his stomach.
“You—y-you really—”
Pond didn’t let him finish.
He sank down again—deeper, slower, letting Phuwin’s cock slide over his tongue with purpose.
Warm.
Wet.
Perfect.
Like Pond’s mouth had been made for this.
Like he wanted to make Phuwin forget how to speak.
And Phuwin?
He did.
He forgot everything except—
Pond’s big hands on his thighs, holding him still.
The drag of hot lips and eager tongue.
The sound of wet sucking that made his toes curl.
The fact that he was still in those stupid pretty panties and he never wanted to take them off again.
“I— I’m gonna—fuck, Pond—”
Pond hummed, never pulling off.
And Phuwin came with a cry, fingers yanking Pond close, back arching, thighs clenching—
Lace trembling.
Brain empty.
Pond didn’t stop until Phuwin’s body stopped twitching—until the sharp, gasping moans softened into breathless whines and shivering exhales.
Only then did he pull off—slowly, lips wet, chin slick—pressing a soft kiss to the tip before leaning up.
Phuwin reached for him immediately.
Grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugged him forward until their mouths met in a messy, heady kiss.
Tongue.
Heat.
Tasting Himself.
It made Phuwin dizzier, like his brain couldn’t catch up, still drunk on the rush of it all.
Pond kissed him back just as hard.
Groaning when he felt how desperate Phuwin still was to be close.
Then he nuzzled down, mouth brushing Phuwin’s jaw before finding his ear—biting it gently.
At the same time, his hands slid back over Phuwin’s thighs, gripping tight.
One slid up—
Squeezed his ass.
Hard.
Lace still clung to one cheek, twisted and damp, half pulled aside.
“Did I earn it already?” Pond rasped.
“Or do I need to beg for it now?”
Phuwin huffed, trying to sound annoyed—but too gone, too warm, too soft.
“Don’t play dumb,” he mumbled. “You know already.”
Pond smiled, kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I know,” he whispered. “But I like hearing it.”
His hand squeezed again, palm wide, fingers dipping under where the panties were bunched.
“Thank you,” he murmured, voice lower now. “For wearing these.”
“Prettiest fucking gift I’ve ever seen.”
Phuwin turned his face, burying it in Pond’s neck, cheeks hot.
But his legs didn’t move.
They stayed wrapped around Pond’s waist—his pretty panties still crooked and messy and clinging—and Pond still looked like he was worshipping a damn altar.
Pond’s hands slid under Phuwin’s thighs, and he started to peel the panties off slowly—almost too slowly.
Every inch he revealed, he kissed.
Inside of a thigh.
A curve of skin.
The place where the satin had stuck to sweat and slick.
Phuwin was already flushed again—hips twitching.
By the time Pond had the lace halfway down, Phuwin’s cock was starting to stir again, twitching against his stomach, like his body refused to settle.
And then?
Phuwin turned them over.
Swift.
Confident.
Smooth.
Pond let out a surprised breath as Phuwin grabbed his wrists, pinned them gently above his head—leaning down to kiss his chest, licking slowly over one nipple, then dragging his mouth lower.
Pond’s abs.
Phuwin licked down the center—wet and unhurried, tracing every muscle with his tongue.
Pond whined, softly, his cock jumping beneath the fabric of his underwear.
Phuwin straddled him now, sitting in his lap like he belonged there—so pretty, still flushed, lips swollen, grinding slow, like he wasn’t just kissed breathless ten minutes ago.
Pond was so hard under him, it hurt.
And Phuwin?
He noticed.
He smiled, shifted down, hands sliding over Pond’s stomach to the waistband of his trousers.
Mercy.
He unbuttoned them with care, tugging them down just enough to reveal Pond’s soaked underwear—the tip of his cock straining against the damp fabric, wet spot dark and obvious.
Phuwin hummed like he was amused.
He dragged his fingers down—slow, gentle—pressing softly where the mess had bloomed.
Pond gasped.
“You’ve been like this since dinner, haven’t you?”
Pond bit his lip. “Since the elevator.”
Phuwin leaned in—licked just beside the waistband, warm tongue pressing into the dip of Pond’s hip.
“You should’ve told me,” he whispered.
Pond laughed—breathless.
“You wore lace.”
“You deserved to suffer a little.”
Phuwin smiled.
And kissed lower.
He tugged Pond’s underwear down with both hands—slow, teasing.
And as the fabric slid down those strong thighs—firm, warm, just the right amount of hair—he licked his lips without even realizing.
Pond’s cock sprang free—hard, angry, glistening, already twitching with every breath.
“Fuck…” Phuwin whispered, actually impressed. “You’re soaked.”
Pond let out a broken laugh. “I’ve been hard for an hour.”
Phuwin settled between his legs, thighs pressed to Pond’s hips, and wrapped one hand around him—slow, loose, just enough to tease.
He stroked lazy, loving the way Pond’s stomach flexed, how his hips twitched without permission, how his eyes fluttered.
Pond was losing it.
And Phuwin?
He was so proud.
Watching the boy under him unravel, all from lace and slow teasing, made him grin.
“Look at you,” Phuwin murmured, thumb brushing over the wet, flushed head. “Wanna come already?”
That’s when Pond grabbed his wrist—tight.
Eyes wild, voice cracked.
“Stop. I mean it.”
Phuwin blinked, amused. “Why?”
Pond leaned in, almost growling:
“Because I’m gonna come.”
“And I’m not coming anywhere else but your ass.”
Phuwin froze for half a second—heart flipping in his chest.
Pond’s hand slid down, squeezing his thigh, voice lower:
“I earned it.”
“You showed up like a fucking dream. In lace. Delivered just for me.”
“You think I’m gonna waste that?”
Phuwin laughed, breathless—half teasing, half wrecked.
“I don’t know if you’re stupid or just trying to turn me on so bad I pass out.”
Pond leaned close again, kissed his cheek, then his neck.
“Little of both.”
And then?
Phuwin let him.
He leaned back, slowly, still grinning as he slid down into the sheets, chest rising fast, eyes dark.
Let Pond lay him down again—like something precious, something hot and perfect.
Pond’s hands went straight to his thighs—pulling them open gently, reverently, setting himself between them again like a prayer.
Pond hovered over Phuwin, hand stroking softly along his thigh.
“Where’s the lube?” he asked, voice husky.
Phuwin nodded toward the nightstand, chest rising and falling too fast already.
Pond reached for it, clicking the cap open and squeezing some into his hand—warming it between his palms like he wasn’t about to lose his mind in ten seconds.
He leaned down—kissed Phuwin slow, tongue brushing his sweet lips, hand moving lower with patience Phuwin didn’t know Pond had.
“I’m gonna get you ready first,” Pond whispered against his mouth.
“Gonna make it feel good.”
Phuwin nodded, too breathless to speak.
Legs shifting open instinctively.
Pond kissed him again—so slow, like he was tasting something rare.
And then—one slick finger, circling Phuwin’s hole, the lube cool at first but warming quickly under his touch.
“Relax for me,” Pond murmured.
“Let me in.”
And then he pushed in—one finger, slow and steady.
Both of them moaned.
Phuwin’s back arched slightly, breath hitching.
Pond’s forehead dropped to his shoulder, panting soft.
“Fuck, baby…” he whispered. “You’re so tight.”
He didn’t move at first—just held it there, letting Phuwin adjust, kissing his jaw, hand stroking his waist slowly.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
Phuwin shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.
“It’s good,” he whispered.
Pond started to move—just one finger, slow in and out, curling carefully, every motion paired with kisses across Phuwin’s chest and soft praises.
“You’re doing so good.”
“So soft, so perfect.”
Phuwin’s thighs trembled a little, but his body was opening up for him.
Pond’s first finger worked in slow, steady motions—careful, loving, easing Phuwin open with each glide.
He was panting softly, eyes fluttering, legs spread and twitching at every curl of Pond’s hand.
His body already slick, warm, soft around Pond’s finger.
Pond leaned in again—kissed his cheek, his jaw, down his neck.
“You’re doing so good, baby.”
“Can I give you another?”
Phuwin nodded, breath catching.
“Y-yeah. I want it.”
Pond kissed him one more time, just as he slowly began to slide in a second finger—stretching him gently, carefully, watching his face the whole time.
Phuwin gasped, hips twitching.
The stretch was more now—fuller, deeper—but Pond didn’t rush.
He kept kissing his chest, soft lips brushing over one nipple, his other hand petting gently down Phuwin’s thigh.
“You okay?” Pond murmured.
Phuwin nodded again, flushed and breathless.
“Yeah—just… it’s a lot.”
Pond smiled against his skin.
“You’re taking it so well. So perfect for me.”
And then he moved his fingers—slow, scissoring gently, stretching Phuwin open with patient, focused touches.
Phuwin moaned—low and sweet, hand gripping the sheets beside him.
His body was reacting now, hips pressing down, chasing the pressure, needy and wet, wanting more.
Pond felt it—and groaned softly, his own cock throbbing untouched.
“You want it already, don’t you?”
“Want me to fill you up?”
Phuwin nodded, eyes glassy.
Pond kissed him hard for that—deep, tongue curling into his mouth—while his fingers worked deeper, curling just right, coaxing every sound out of Phuwin’s swollen lips.
The room was full of wet sounds now.
Soft moans.
Hot breaths.
And Phuwin’s body?
Opening.
Ready.
Begging.
Pond slid a third finger in—slow but sure—his free hand steadying Phuwin’s hip as he pushed deeper.
The stretch had Phuwin moaning already, but then—
Pond curled his fingers just right.
And Phuwin cried out.
“F-fuck—Pond—”
His hips jerked up uncontrollably, thighs trembling, hands searching blindly until they grabbed Pond’s wrist—gripping tight, like he needed to stop or he’d come right there.
Pond didn’t stop immediately.
He kept pressing, just once more, watching the way Phuwin’s back arched and his mouth dropped open.
“There you are…” Pond whispered, eyes burning.
“That’s your sweetest spot, huh?”
Phuwin whimpered, breath ragged.
“Stop—please—if you keep going I’ll—I’ll—”
Pond groaned, deep in his chest.
Leaned in and kissed Phuwin messy, like he couldn’t hold back—tongue and lips and gasps between them.
Then finally—finally—he pulled his fingers out, slow and careful, his hand slick and trembling.
“Okay,” Pond panted, pressing his forehead to Phuwin’s.
“Okay, baby… now you get me ready, yeah?”
He reached for the lube again, poured it into Phuwin’s palm—warm, slippery.
Guided his hand gently down—
“Lube me up. Nice and slow. Make it good.”
And there he was:
Pond’s cock, flushed, thick, wet from the tip, twitching in Phuwin’s hand.
It pulsed the second Phuwin touched him.
Pond’s breath hitched, head falling to Phuwin’s shoulder as Phuwin started stroking him—slow and slick, fingers trembling, brain still foggy from being fingered so deep he nearly came.
“God, baby…” Pond whispered, hips rocking into the touch.
“You feel that? That’s what you do to me. So hard for you. Just you.”
Phuwin whimpered again, hand squeezing a little tighter, stroking him from base to head.
His own cock twitching back to life again, slick smeared across his thighs, still aching.
Pond nuzzled into his neck, kissing softly—
“You ready?” he murmured. “You ready for me?”
Phuwin nodded, voice too wrecked.
Pond settled between Phuwin’s thighs, his breath coming shallow and wrecked, eyes locked on the view of Phuwin spread out beneath him, flushed and trembling, still twitching from his fingers.
He kissed Phuwin’s cheek once—slowly, tenderly—as he slid his hands down to spread his hips, thumbs brushing the creases of his thighs.
“Higher, baby,” Pond whispered, voice fraying at the edges.
Phuwin shifted obediently—hips lifting, offering himself up, body already open and ready, hole still slick and shining under the low light.
Pond’s hand trembled slightly as he guided his cock down—lining himself up, the tip nudging against that stretched rim, already parting slightly just from the pressure.
Heat.
Wet.
He let out a shuddering breath and pressed in slowly.
Just an inch.
Then another.
“F-fuck…” Pond groaned, jaw clenched. “So tight, so warm…”
Phuwin let out a soft, shaking moan—high and broken, one hand gripping the sheets, the other reaching back to hold Pond’s thigh.
Pond bent forward, kissed Phuwin’s shoulder again, then his nape.
Their skin stuck, already sweaty, already clinging.
Another inch.
Pond’s cock was thick, pulsing, pushing so slow like he didn’t want to break anything, but every single inch felt like too much—too much stretch, too much heat, too much want.
“You’re doing so good,” Pond whispered into his skin.
“You feel like heaven, baby—just like this.”
He didn’t even bottom out yet.
But just those few inches had both of them trembling, heads dizzy.
Phuwin’s breath hitched as Pond stilled, halfway in, letting him adjust—his cock throbbing, leaking against Pond’s belly.
“Can you take more?” Pond asked, one hand steady on Phuwin’s hip, the other tracing down his spine.
Phuwin nodded, dazed.
“All of it,” he whispered. “I want all of you.”
Pond kissed his cheek again.
“You’ll get it. Every fucking inch.”
And then—slowly, so goddamn slowly—he kept pushing in.
He did exactly as he promised.
He gave Phuwin every inch—slow, deep, until his hips pressed flush against Phuwin’s ass, until there was nothing left between them.
Phuwin whimpered when he bottomed out—head turning to the side, breath catching.
Pond stayed still, trembling.
His forehead dropped to Phuwin’s back, both hands gripping his waist like a lifeline.
He was trying so hard not to come—not from the way Phuwin gripped him, not from how warm and wet he was inside, not from the soft, sweet sounds Phuwin kept making.
“F-fuck…” Pond whispered, kissing between Phuwin’s shoulder blades.
“You feel better than any dream, baby.”
Phuwin nodded, hands reaching back—petting Pond’s hair, running through the messy strands, comforting and hungry all at once.
Pond shifted one of Phuwin’s legs higher, spreading him more—hips angling, and then—
He grinded once, deep and slow.
Both of them moaned.
Phuwin’s body arched, sensitive and so full.
“Please…” he breathed.
That was all Pond needed.
He pulled out—slow drag, the stretch unbearable—and then slid back in, harder this time.
Phuwin gasped, nails clutching Pond’s back, dragging down the sweaty skin.
Pond groaned low in his throat, losing control inch by inch.
And then he did it again.
And again.
Harder.
Deeper.
Filthier.
“Phuwin—”
“You’re perfect. So good for me. So fucking good.”
Phuwin could only moan in return, body bouncing with every thrust, the pressure so good it made his vision go fuzzy.
His hands roamed everywhere—Pond’s shoulders, his arms, his back, nails digging in every time Pond thrust just right—right there, again and again, hitting his sweet spot until Phuwin was falling apart.
“Don’t stop—Pond, don’t stop—”
Pond didn’t.
Couldn’t.
His hips were moving desperately now, skin slapping, bodies sticking together, breath hot in Phuwin’s ear.
“I’m so close,” Pond panted, voice cracked.
“Can I—can I come inside, baby?”
Phuwin was gone.
Eyes unfocused, lips parted, cheeks flushed, moaning openly into the pillow as Pond fucked him down into the mattress.
Pond’s body pressed down harder, big frame covering Phuwin’s like a shield—thrusts getting deeper, sloppier, hips grinding with every push.
“So perfect…” Pond groaned against his neck, teeth catching skin.
Then he bit down, just enough to make Phuwin’s back arch—a real mark, just like the one he was leaving inside.
“This ass,” Pond growled, voice thick and ruined.
“It’s mine now, right?”
He reached behind them—one hand gripping Phuwin’s plush cheek, squeezing, then spreading him wider, letting his cock bury even deeper.
Phuwin whimpered, whole body shaking as the stretch hit somewhere new, somewhere intense.
“Say it,” Pond panted. “Say it’s mine—earned it, didn’t I?”
Phuwin wanted to tease.
Wanted to laugh.
He really did.
But all he could do was moan—loud, broken, because in that exact moment, Pond’s finger brushed where he was buried inside—just the tiniest touch—
—and Phuwin came.
Cock untouched, body trembling, voice wrecked.
He came hard, just from Pond’s cock, Pond’s body, Pond’s voice in his ear and that one filthy finger brushing where they were connected.
His whole body locked, legs wrapped tight around Pond, hole clenching, milking him as he spilled across the sheets.
Pond groaned deep, voice hoarse.
“Oh my fucking god—Phuwin—”
He wasn’t going to last either.
Pond groaned loud—a broken sound, deep in his chest—as Phuwin clenched tight around him, body still trembling from release.
He thrust once.
Then twice.
Deep.
Full.
Shuddering.
And then he came, hips stuttering, body curling over Phuwin’s.
“F-fuck, baby—god—”
Warm pulses spilled inside as his hips moved slow, trying to ride it out, grinding deep until he was spent.
Their bodies stuck together, sweaty and shaking, both of them gasping for air, flushed and ruined and holding onto each other like the moment would disappear if they let go.
Pond buried his face in Phuwin’s neck, pressing soft kisses there, still panting.
Phuwin turned his head—found Pond’s mouth, kissed him lazy, soft and messy, lips slick and slow, breathing each other in.
Pond smiled against his lips.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Phuwin hummed.
“More than okay.”
They kissed again, slower.
No teasing.
No tension.
Just them—satisfied, warm, tangled.
Pond stayed inside, still pressed deep, not wanting to move yet.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “For real.”
Phuwin rolled his eyes, but his arms only pulled Pond in closer.
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
“Took you long enough.”
Pond laughed—kissed him again.
They didn’t need to rush.
Not anymore.
Pond pulled out slowly, carefully—mind still spinning, breath still shallow.
Phuwin’s body clenched around him one last time, and he had to look away just to keep himself from getting hard again.
But he didn’t leave.
Instead, he sank lower, hands smoothing down Phuwin’s soft thighs, fingers trailing the lines of pleasure and aftermath, worshipful even in silence.
He leaned in and cupped Phuwin’s face, thumb brushing flushed skin.
Phuwin looked up at him, eyes glassy, mouth kiss-bitten.
Pond swallowed hard.
“I really like you, Phuwin.”
The words came quiet, sincere.
Not just afterglow nonsense.
Not just heat.
“Not just this. Not just tonight.”
“I hope I earned a little bit of your heart too.”
Phuwin’s breath caught.
He looked away, lips twitching into a small sulky pout—not because he didn’t believe him, but because his chest was so full he didn’t know where to put the feeling.
Pond’s heart stuttered in that silence—until Phuwin finally muttered:
“Don’t stop trying.”
Then he grabbed Pond’s neck, pulled him down, and kissed him.
Soft this time.
Slow.
There was no heat in it now—just warmth.
Emotion.
A promise unspoken.
Pond melted into it.
“I won’t,” he whispered against his lips. “I swear I won’t.”
And Phuwin—finally, finally—let himself be kissed again.
Phuwin exhaled softly, skin still flushed, heart pounding slow now.
He let the kiss linger, let Pond breathe against his mouth before murmuring:
“Take me to shower?”
Pond blinked once.
Then he grinned.
And instead of moving off the bed, he leaned in—tongue dragging slowly along Phuwin’s neck, tasting sweat and heat and a hint of something darker.
“Shower?” Pond repeated, voice smug.
“Baby… I just worked so hard for this.”
His hands slid down Phuwin’s sides—fingers trailing over skin still tacky with come, lips brushing against a sharp collarbone.
And then they found home—gripping Phuwin’s ass again, thumbs spreading the sticky mess, smearing it deliberately between flushed cheeks.
“You’re ridiculous if you think we're done already,” he whispered, pressing a slow kiss to Phuwin’s throat.
“Look at you. Still twitching. Still dripping.”
Phuwin gasped, thighs pressing together instinctively.
Pond just leaned down, one hand still cupping his ass, the other sliding under Phuwin’s thigh, lifting it slightly again.
“Let me play with my reward just a little more,” Pond murmured, thumb pressing close to where his come was still warm inside.
“You gave it to me so sweetly. Don’t take it away just yet.”
Phuwin flushed even redder, hiding his face in Pond’s shoulder as Pond groaned softly.
“You're mine now,” he whispered into Phuwin’s skin.
“So let me treat you like it.”
It didn’t take much.
Some kissing.
Some grinding.
Some filthy little whispers.
Pond’s hand sliding back over Phuwin’s slick skin, still warm from everything they’d just done.
Phuwin’s hips twitching when Pond cupped him again—and that was it.
They were hard again, bodies flushed and needy.
But this time, Phuwin moved first.
He turned them slowly, nudging Pond back until his back hit the mattress.
Then, with a push, made him sit up, back resting against the headboard.
Pond blinked, breath catching.
“What are you—?”
Phuwin crawled into his lap—easy, slow, the way someone walks into the sea they already know they’ll drown in.
He leaned forward, lips ghosting Pond’s ear.
“I’ll reward you,” he whispered, breath hot.
“For trying so hard… for earning it.”
He licked just under Pond’s ear—exactly where he knew Pond twitched.
Pond groaned, hips lifting already, cock hard again between them, pressing against Phuwin’s ass where they both knew it belonged.
“You can be good, right?” Phuwin murmured, voice soft but sultry.
“You’ll let me ride you slow… nice…”
Pond cursed softly—hands already on Phuwin’s hips, squeezing like he couldn’t believe this was real.
“Baby—”
“Fuck yes—ride me, please—”
Phuwin smiled.
Wicked.
Sweet.
“Then lay back, and let me make you feel what you earned.”
And as Pond did just that—hungry, hands trembling, eyes locked on Phuwin's flushed body climbing into position—
Phuwin reached down, guided Pond’s thick cock to his entrance—
And sank down, inch by inch.
Let himself feel every second.
He lowered down onto Pond’s cock slowly—already stretched, already warm, still sensitive from the last time, but this… this was different.
This was him choosing it.
Guiding it.
Rewarding Pond in the most dangerous way possible—by giving everything with control.
Pond let out a low, shaking moan the moment he was fully in.
“Holy fuck—Phuwin—”
His hands gripped Phuwin’s hips tight, tighter, fingers pressing bruises like he needed something to hold onto to stay grounded.
Phuwin didn’t move at first.
Just sat there, cock twitching against his stomach, breathing hard, looking down at Pond with flushed cheeks and bitten lips.
Then, slowly, he started to move.
Not fast.
Not rough.
Just slow, lazy, perfect grinds—his hips rolling, drawing gasps out of Pond with each thrust.
“You like that?” Phuwin whispered, voice soft but wicked.
Pond nodded frantically, eyes half-lidded, sweat already beading on his chest.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned.
Phuwin smiled—smug, confident, sweet.
He leaned forward a bit, hands on Pond’s chest, riding him slow, clenching just right, watching Pond fall apart beneath him.
“You worked so hard,” Phuwin teased, breath hitching.
“Now take it. Let me make you feel everything.”
Pond’s moan broke into a curse, hips bucking up once before he stopped himself—barely.
“F-fuck, Phuwin—don’t stop—please—just like that…”
Phuwin rode him sweetly at first.
Just the way he promised.
Slow grinds.
Palms on Pond’s chest.
Small moans every time Pond’s cock hit that spot that made his thighs twitch.
Pond held him tight—fingers bruising, voice gone, ruined from groaning with every thrust Phuwin gave him.
“You’re doing so good, baby—so fucking good—”
“Look at you… riding me like I’m yours.”
Phuwin whimpered.
He grinded deeper, hips rolling hard—body trembling from how Pond’s cock stretched him open just right, how Pond never stopped praising him, voice thick and filthy and too tender at once.
“You feel perfect,” Pond gasped.
“You were made for this—made for me—”
And that’s when it snapped.
Phuwin’s head fell back, mouth open, a long moan ripping out of his throat as he started to bounce.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
His thighs burned, hands gripping Pond’s chest, eyes glassy as he rode Pond’s cock harder, chasing that dizzy high.
“Fuck—Pond—nghh—so deep—”
Pond moaned loudly, hands flying to Phuwin’s waist, trying to ground himself, trying not to come just from how fucking gorgeous Phuwin looked right now—
Sweaty.
Blushing.
Bouncing.
Falling apart.
“Baby—I’m not gonna last—Phuwin—please—”
But Phuwin didn’t stop.
Couldn’t.
He was too far gone.
And he knew it.
Pond couldn’t hold back either.
Phuwin angled his hips—just right, clenching hard, grinding deeper, moaning his name—and that was it.
Pond snapped.
“F-fuck—Phuwin—baby—I’m co—”
His hands flew to Phuwin’s hips, gripping hard, holding him still, pressed all the way down as he thrust up once—twice—then came, hips jerking helplessly.
He groaned deep, loud and broken, head tilted back, sweat-slick chest heaving.
Warm pulses filled Phuwin again, Pond’s cock twitching deep inside as he rode it out, whole body shaking from how hard it hit.
Phuwin sat through it, eyes wide, watching Pond unravel—feeling every pulse inside him—his own cock stiff and leaking untouched between them.
Pond’s eyes finally blinked open, still dazed, still breathless—and the first thing he saw was Phuwin.
Cheeks pink.
Chest rising fast.
Nipples stiff.
Cock twitching.
Still sitting pretty on his lap like a dream come true.
“Shit,” Pond breathed, voice raw. “Look at you…”
He leaned in, brought Phuwin to a kiss—slow and messy, full of love and filth all at once.
Then one hand slipped between them, stroking Phuwin’s cock, slow at first.
“Come for me,” he whispered against Phuwin’s lips.
“You look so pretty like this—so fucking perfect—lemme see you.”
Phuwin whined, hips stuttering—too full, too overstimulated, but needing it.
And Pond didn’t stop.
He kissed Phuwin’s chest, fingers pumping slick, thumb teasing the head, voice low and reverent—
“You’re mine now. Let me have it. Come for me, baby—”
He didn’t tease.
Not this time.
He just wrapped his hand tighter around Phuwin’s cock, still slick from earlier, still twitching, still waiting—
and started to stroke faster.
Firm.
Wet.
Rhythmic.
Phuwin gasped immediately—body jolting, already so close, so overwhelmed.
His thighs trembled, hands clutching Pond’s shoulders, voice cracking in his throat.
“Pond—wait—I can’t—nghh—!”
But Pond only kissed him, soft and messy, hand never slowing.
“Yes you can,” he whispered.
“Cry for me, baby. Give it to me. You’ve been so good—come on.”
Phuwin’s breath hitched.
His whole body was burning.
Full of Pond.
Held by Pond.
Loved, ruined, owned.
Pond’s hand stroked a bit more, thumb dragging over the soaked head, palm twisting just right, knowing exactly what Phuwin needed.
And Phuwin broke.
“—Pond! F-fuck!”
His body seized, hips bucked, and he cried out—loud, shaky, his voice splitting into something helpless and raw as he came hard, all over Pond’s chest, his own stomach, the space between them.
Pond held him through it—stroking gently now, whispering filth and praise and soft kisses to Phuwin’s jaw.
“So pretty. So perfect. That’s it, baby.”
“Give it all to me. Let me have all of you.”
Phuwin’s body trembled, mouth open in stunned gasps, clinging tight to Pond as the orgasm rippled through him, so deep it hurt.
When it finally passed, he collapsed forward—boneless, breathless, messy—into Pond’s arms.
Phuwin slumped forward, boneless, breath still uneven as he laid his cheek against Pond’s chest—
sweaty, flushed, and completely wrecked.
Pond didn’t stop touching him.
One hand rubbed lazy circles into his back.
The other ran down the curve of Phuwin’s ass, not to tease anymore, just… to hold him.
Keep him close.
Then Pond kissed his forehead.
“You were so good,” he murmured, voice hoarse and warm.
“So perfect, baby.”
Phuwin groaned, limbs trembling, body still pulsing.
“You talk too much,” he muttered weakly, face pressed into Pond’s skin.
“Take me to the bathroom. For real this time.”
Pond laughed, chest rumbling.
“Yes, sir.”
He sat up slowly, arms already sliding under Phuwin’s legs and back, not even flinching at the sticky mess between them.
“You’re disgusting,” Phuwin mumbled, blushing as Pond pulled out gently, still holding him like he weighed nothing.
“You liked it.”
“…I did.”
Pond kissed his cheek as he stood up, carrying Phuwin bridal style like it was nothing, nuzzling into his hair.
“Come on, pretty boy,” he whispered.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Phuwin curled in closer, letting himself be held.
Warm.
Safe.
Loved.
Just like this.