Work Text:
There was something about being with Kim, Chay kept thinking. He couldn’t quite describe what it was, not yet, not with Kim this close to him.
It was past midnight and they were driving with no place to go, not really. All the windows were open and the wind was a bit aggressive against his face, but he didn’t care. The night felt endless, the city was quiet, and Porchay couldn’t bring himself to look away from his boyfriend’s pretty face. Kim’s eyes were focused on the street, one of his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel while the other kept caressing Porchay’s thigh—he always gripped a little harder whenever he had to brake.
The plan was to go out for a few drinks. It was late and they couldn’t sleep, so Chay suggested they went out for a bit. For some unexplainable reason, Kim agreed without much thought, but they never made it to the club. Instead, they bought cheap wine from a convenience store, candies (for Chay), and cigarettes (for Kim) and kept driving to nowhere in particular.
“You’re staring, weirdo,” Kim said, his eyes still on the streets. Porchay smiled.
“You’re beautiful.”
Kim looked at him, his lips forming a small smile that usually meant he was shy.
“Am I?” he teased because he never knew how to react to compliments. “Where are we going?”
“You’re the one driving,” Porchay laughed. “It’s late, there’s nowhere to go.”
“We can always go home.”
Home. Porchay thought that maybe, after months of being Kim’s boyfriend and living together, he would finally get used to it but he was so, so incredibly wrong. They were together for almost a year and yet Chay felt like he could fall in love all over again every time he listened to Kim’s soft tone when he said home—like he, himself couldn’t quite believe it.
Porchay loved him like crazy.
“Let’s go home, then.”
They did. Porchay’s body was cold when he closed the door and took his shoes off, but not for too long. Kim wrapped him in his arms, face buried between the curve of Chay’s neck. He breathed in, and Porchay shivered, then laughed when his boyfriend bit him playfully.
“Are you a dog now?”
“If you want me to be,” Kim kissed his cheek, his smile widening when he heard Porchay’s loud laugh. He could never get enough of the sound.
“Silly boy,” Chay turned to him. Their noses were touching, Kim was as warm as the sun, and Porchay wanted to keep him there forever. “Are you very tired?”
“No, angel,” Kim kissed his nose, one of his hands pushing back the strands of hair that kept falling in front of Chay’s eyes. “Do you want the wine?”
Chay hummed in agreement and kissed his chin before letting him go. It was late, he knew, but he was happy and in love and, for some reason, he felt like he could dance the whole night. So, Chay turned the radio on and asked it to play whatever he had been listening to that afternoon on his Spotify.
When he turned around, Kim was looking at him.
“You’re smiling,” Kim stated, looking amazed. He got closer and placed the glass of wine on Porchay’s hand, his free arm going around his boyfriend’s waist. Porchay was smiling, and it only grew wider with how confused Kim looked. “Did you drink already?”
“I didn’t,” Chay laughed, placing his hand on the nape of his neck. “Music is never too much, don’t you think?”
Kim gave him an unimpressed look, and Porchay was still smiling when he walked away, his body moving in a weird little dance alongside the heavy beat just because he wanted to make Kim laugh. And Kim did—he sat in a chair, drinking his wine and staring at Chay like he was the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, a little smile never leaving his face even when he had to look away to pour more wine into his glass.
And Porchay kept dancing for him, a little sloppy and silly but with a smile that never, ever failed in making Kim’s heart beat a bit faster. If Porchay closed his eyes, he could still feel Kim’s gaze on him—heavy, sweet, and full of a kind of love he could feel at the tip of his fingers. And maybe he was a little bit drunk— if in love, or because of the alcohol, he didn’t really know— but he wanted Kim closer. He wanted to have him so close he wouldn’t know where he started and Kim ended. So, he stepped closer, his hands behind his back as if he was shy—he wasn’t.
“Do you dance?” Porchay asked trying to be seductive, even though he already knew the answer. Kim was not a dancer, not really. He could dance but felt awkward doing so.
“No, not really,” Kim said as expected. His head was tilted to the side and his eyes had this sparkle that made Porchay want to dig inside his head just so he could find out what he was thinking. “Ask me.”
“Are you going to say no?”
“I don’t know,” Kim said with so much honesty that Porchay had to stop in his tracks for a second. “Ask me anyway.”
“Dance with me?”
“Yes.”
The song wasn’t even slow, and Porchay felt a little clumsy because of the wine, but Kim held his waist and kept him so very close that Porchay really thought they could melt into each other. The room was a bit darker than normal, and the drapers were open in a way they could see how the stars were shining a bit brighter in the sky and Kim held one of Porchay’s hands with so much gentleness before he gave one step back, guiding them into a slow pace.
Porchay looked at him, finding a bunch of new stars in Kim’s eyes. It was kind of weird how it felt like they were connected at every point of their souls, their hearts beating like one. And they danced, taking a step at a time, their eyes never leaving each other. At some point, Kim made Porchay spin around, and he smiled when Porchay laughed before pulling him in again, holding him as close as possible, making them waltz around the huge living room.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Porchay asked when he got on his tiptoes, their faces close enough so they could breathe each other in.
Kim smiled at him, slowing them down to a barely there little dance before pressing their foreheads together.
“Do you want me to?”
“I do,” Chay breathed, scratching Kim’s scalp lightly. “Kiss me. Kiss me till I can’t kiss you back anymore.”
It was always different in a way that also felt the same—Porchay couldn’t quite explain it. Kim’s lips were always soft and sweet. He tasted like wine, his tongue a hot mess inside Chay’s mouth, and he could kiss Kim like that forever, slow and gentle and full of some unexplainable fondness that always made Porchay think he was going to disintegrate into something bright, and gentle, and warm—into something like love.
He guided Kim to the sofa, pulled away enough to tell him to sit, then kissed him again when he found himself on his boyfriend’s lap. There were hands everywhere, and Porchay felt hot all over because wine always made him feel like he needed skin ship or he would die. And Kim probably knew that because he was soon enough putting his hands inside Porchay’s shirt, caressing, pressing, and rubbing circles on bare skin in a way that made Porchay shiver uncontrollably. He might have made a sound—something needy and hot against Kim’s mouth, but he wasn’t sure.
“Baby,” Kim whispered, desperately trying to find Porchay’s eyes; he grabbed his waist, his fingers digging into the skin in a way that made Porchay tremble, his breath heavier now. “Look at me. Baby, please, would you- would you look at me? I need to…”
“Touch me,” Porchay pleaded, a pained sound scaping his throat with how much he wanted him. “Touch me, touch me, I need-”
Kim moaned softly, his lips wet against Porchay’s cheek. He was hard in his jeans, and Porchay did nothing to ease his suffering, only moved his hips just the right way to make Kim melt against the couch. They were moving together, and it felt like heaven and hell all the same; it was too much, but not enough, never enough, and Porchay felt like he was too close to going insane.
“Kim,” he murmured, his hands undoing his boyfriend’s fly, touching bare skin; Kim moaned again, his body trembling under Chay. He moved his hand, up and down, amazed by the wetness he found there, his fingers playing around the slit.
Kim was a mess, his body weak under his boyfriend’s ministrations. He laughed a little, said: “You’re going to be the death of me.” He kissed Porchay’s laugh, pulled his boy’s jeans down enough to touch him too.
“Does this scare you?” Porchay breathed, his hips moving the way he wanted, using Kim’s hand as if he owned him. He did. He always would. Kim would give him everything, anything, as long as Porchay was happy.
“Not a bit,” Kim smiled and kissed him again.
Their clothes got lost somewhere between a kiss and a breathless plead. It was always kind of overwhelming when it came to sex; it felt like they were about to collide and never, ever be the same again, if the way they trembled against each other meant anything. And their hands were moving the way they needed, and they were still trying to kiss even though they kept stopping to moan each other’s names, and it felt so right Porchay forgot everything except for that moment.
Porchay was drunk on lust when he slapped Kim’s hand off and took both of them on his own, his hips moving a little slower.
“Why did you-” Kim whispered almost desperately, and Porchay felt a rush of pleasure run through his body. No one would ever see this side of Kim besides him: vulnerable, open, and so adorably submissive. He liked having that kind of power over the mafia prince. “Baby. Please, can you just- I was so close.”
“What do you want?” Chay asked lowly, their lips close, noses touching, rubbing. His own body ached with need, but he wanted to hear it. Needed it. “Tell me.”
“I want you,” Kim said with pleading eyes, his hands still bruising Chay’s hips.
“Then have me.”
It went faster after that: Kim held Porchay’s hand with his own and started to move again, hard and fast, and came with Porchay, their eyes glued to each other, breaths uneven. They kissed slowly, touches so very gently it was almost funny to think they were covered in cum and sweat. It was late, and Porchay was starting to feel sleepy, but he could easily stay right there the whole night: face tucked on Kim’s neck, their hearts beating the same, warm bodies pressed together like one.
“We should take a shower and go to bed,” Kim murmured close to his ear, sounding as tired as Porchay felt.
“We should,” Chay agreed. “Carry me?”
“How can you be this shameless,” Kim complained with a smile that made Porchay think he was being bathed by the sun. “Hold tight.”
“My hero.”
They showered together, and Porchay felt like he could sleep at any moment while Kim dried his hair. In his sleepy state, he thought if it would always be like this, with Kim—if he would always feel this happy, comfortable, and wanted.
“What are you thinking?” Kim asked later when they went under the covers. “I can hear your brain working.”
“Weirdo,” Porchay flicked his nose playfully, then kissed the same place when Kim pouted. He kissed his pout too. “I’m thinking about how much I love you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kim smiled, pulling him closer. He was always smiling around Porchay. “I love you too. Very much.”
“Do you think we’ll be like this forever?”
“How so?”
“Happy. Like I’m going to die with how much I love being happy by your side,” Porchay whispered like it was a secret, feeling suddenly very shy. “Do you feel that? Like maybe we’re going to fall in love all over again every day.”
“I told you you’ll be the death of me,” Kim said so very lovingly. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” Porchay closed his eyes, kissed Kim’s lips once. “Yes, it is.”
“Good,” Kim laughed. “That’s what I want too.”
Porchay smiled, feeling overwhelmingly in love again. He took a deep breath, caressed Kim’s hair, kissed his chin, his cheek. He needed to believe it was all real.
“Will you still love me in the morning?”
“Tomorrow morning, and the morning after that, and the next one too,” Kim whispered. “I’ll love you everyday, if you let me, angel. I’ll love you till you’re sick of it.”
“Good,” Porchay said, his heart beating like crazy inside his chest. “Good.”