Archive of Our Own

Three weeks after the deadly showdown between the major and minor families, Porsche summons Kinn to the minor family homebase. 

Porsche took on the mantle of head of the minor family and immediately realised how much work needed to be done to get it back on its feet. He set up an office at the homebase so he could work at the source, often sleeping there most nights instead of at home with Kinn, just to try to get it under control.

Kinn was surprised at how quickly Porsche dove headfirst into the work, especially considering everything he’s been through. He gave himself little to no time to process every secret that was revealed that day. Kinn has been keeping an eye on him, aware that Porsche may be pushing himself too far too fast, but he also has his own section of the organisation to rebuild—so many funerals to attend. 

It’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Porsche in the aftermath. Porsche summoning him, instead of the other way around, has never happened before. Kinn is hyper-aware of that little detail as he is guided inside by Arm, who he temporarily reassigned to Porsche in order to strengthen the surveillance system of the homebase. It also means Kinn has someone he trusts to keep an eye on Porsche in case things go awry.

“How is he?” Kinn asks quietly, nodding politely at the staff who greet him on the way in. The atmosphere here is certainly a lot different to when Kinn last visited. Porsche can really work wonders on people.

“Not great,” Arm replies, tone hushed so no one overhears, “he won’t stop even for a minute. If something goes even slightly wrong, he seems to blame himself, then works even harder because of it.”

Kinn was afraid this would happen. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Porsche is younger and relatively new to all of this. He should be enjoying his life with his friends and brother, not running a subsection of a mafia organisation, no matter how good of an idea Korn thinks it is. He’s thankful he has Porsche by his side, but it’s hard not to notice what Porsche is losing because of it.

Arm stops outside Porsche’s office door. Kinn squeezes his elbow. “Thank you, Arm.”

Arm sends him a wai, “Of course, Khun Kinn. We’re all worried about him.”

Kinn watches Arm disappear around the corner before rapping his knuckles on the door. From inside, Porsche calls, “Come in.”

Kinn steps inside and closes the door. The room Porsche uses as his office isn’t one that belonged to his uncle or Vegas, Kinn is glad to note. It’s one of the rooms higher up, with a balcony and more light, an open-plan space with a desk and several bookshelves in a light brown wood. There’s even a bed on the other side of the room, the bedding unmade. The balcony doors are open to let in the morning breeze and, among it all, there is Porsche. 

He’s standing behind the desk rather than sitting, leaning over it to inspect several papers. His emerald green button down is open at the chest, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off lean forearms. The minor family ring glints in the light. Just the sight of him sets something golden off in Kinn’s chest.

Porsche straightens up as Kinn walks further into the room. Close up, Kinn can see the way his hair is more ruffled than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it. There’s dried ink splattered on his hands; his pen must have leaked and he’s barely made an attempt to clean it. There are smudges under his eyes that set off warning sirens in the protective part of Kinn’s brain.

“Kinn,” Porsche says, the relief in his voice palpable, already moving towards him.

Kinn steps forward to greet his boyfriend properly but Porsche merely smacks a quick kiss on his lips and then he’s gone again, Kinn’s arms slipping from around his waist.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Porsche says, pacing to the other side of the room, “I know you have a lot of things of your own to fix. I tried to make everything work on my own, but I can’t—there’s not enough—” Porsche abruptly changes direction, walking back to the desk to tap a finger on one of the papers. “This is a full list of employees that your uncle had working for him. I decided to run a background check on them all to see if they would have reasons to try to sabotage the main family, or have any grievances against me as the new head.”

“Which is exactly what I, or anybody else in your place, would do,” Kinn says carefully, because Porsche seems like he needs the reassurance.

Porsche’s face goes tight. “Right. Except a lot of the men defected because of it. Bodyguards, contractors, even some of the kitchen staff. With all the casualties from the fight, we’re basically working with a skeleton crew until we can find more people we trust to hire and train. I have no idea how long that will take, probably weeks.”

Kinn watches him pace the length of the floor. Porsche has always been an energiser bunny, not able to stand in one place for too long. He usually channels that energy into his job and, when not working, a type of mischief that Kinn loves to indulge. 

The kinetic energy that crackles over his skin now is uncontrolled, like he’s pushed himself past the point of burnout and is running on pure adrenaline. In contrast to that, his eyes are dull and far away, as if his mind isn’t even in the room.

“The staff who left were the ones who couldn't be trusted,” Kinn tells him. “They only saved you time from having to fire them yourself.”

“Maybe,” Porsche mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Not maybe,” Kinn corrects, “definitely. I’ve been doing this my whole life, Porsche. You did the right thing.”

At that, Porsche finally stops. His eyes, when he raises them, are both sad and grateful. It tears Kinn apart a little just to look at.

“I pulled in all the main family’s backup staff from the safe houses we have,” Kinn says. “I can provide as many people as you need until the minor clan is stabilised.” 

“Good,” Porsche takes a deep breath, lets it out on a shaky exhale, “that’s—good. Thanks.” 

Porsche is twisting the ring round and round his finger, eyes downcast at the ground. He still looks unbearably lost, even though Kinn has offered a solution to the problem. There’s something else that Porsche needs, and Kinn already has an idea of what that might be. Porsche wouldn’t have summoned him all the way here if the only thing on his mind was to request more bodyguards. 

Kinn moves slowly, like he’s approaching a spooked animal. He says, “Porsche,” as softly as he can, but Porsche still flinches, whirling around in a blur of movement to pick up his phone from the desk.

“I’ll call my second and let him know the plan, then we can—”

Kinn is across the room and grabbing Porsche’s wrist before he can even blink.

“Enough,” Kinn says quietly. Porsche doesn’t move, whole body a rigid line, eyelashes fluttering at the soft command in his voice. “Enough, Porsche.” 

Kinn reaches out and uncurls Porsche’s stiff fingers from around the mobile. He places it facedown on the desk and tugs Porsche around until they’re face to face. Both of Kinn’s hands encircle Porsche’s wrists, his thumbs soothing over the pulse point there. Porsche’s blood thunders beneath the skin, warm and alive.

“There’s something else you need from me,” Kinn says.

“There’s nothing,” Porsche tells him. He isn’t looking at Kinn when he does.

Porsche is a bad liar. Maybe it’s because of how sweetly earnest he is, but every emotion shines through perfectly on his face. When there’s something bothering him, or he’s upset, Kinn can tell immediately. Kinn is forever thankful that this world hasn’t beaten that characteristic out of him despite everything.

Slowly, deliberately, Kinn raises Porsche’s forearm towards his mouth. Porsche’s gaze flits to Kinn’s at the movement. Not breaking eye contact, Kinn presses a kiss to the delicate skin of his wrist. Porsche’s eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings, the storm inside him tamed for now. It’s all the permission Kinn needs.

Kinn bites down and sucks a deep red mark into the unblemished underside of his wrist. It’s exactly where a cuff would rest, if they ever decided to use them during their scenes. The significance isn’t lost on Porsche. His gaze has gone languid and syrupy-thick, his hand slack in Kinn’s hold.

Kinn has been building up to the conversation regarding cuffs and collars. He’s seen the way Porsche can’t tear his eyes away from them when they browse for other toys online. He doesn’t think Porsche would like a thick leather collar, too gaudy and heavy, but Kinn has visions of him in a thin chain choker, fitted snug to the golden skin of his throat. The necklace Porsche sometimes wears looks so similar to what Kinn imagines that his eyes often drift to it when they’re together.

Kinn presses into the fresh bruise with his thumb. Porsche inhales silently. 

“You’re going to come back home this evening,” Kinn says, with no room for argument, “I’m going to take care of you.”

Porsche’s expression has gone soft yet hesitant; he wants nothing more than to give in, but there’s something stopping him.

“Kinn,” he says quietly, “I—”

There’s a bang from somewhere below the balcony, one of the staff dropping a crate of something on the floor. The noise startles Porsche, bringing him back into the room, reminding him exactly where he is, who he’s expected to be. He snaps out of the gentle daze he was in.

“I don’t have time Kinn, there’s too much going on here,” his wrist slips from Kinn’s grasp as he moves past him, “I have to stay, there’s so much to fix, my schedule—”

Kinn catches him with an arm around his waist, reeling him back in until they’re breathing the same air, until there’s nowhere their bodies aren’t touching. Porsche lets out a relieved breath at the contact, leaning his forehead against Kinn’s temple. Kinn’s fingers caress the hair at the nape of Porsche’s neck, a slow movement, up and down. Some of the tension drains from Porsche’s body, but not enough to satisfy Kinn. He’s still too stiff and uncertain. Kinn’s lips brush the shell of Porsche’s ear.

“The head of the minor family is being summoned by the head of the major family,” Kinn says quietly.

Porsche doesn’t say anything for a while. The expanse of his chest steadily rises and falls. Kinn can practically hear his brain working. Eventually, Porsche pulls back to search Kinn’s face. 

“Are you giving me no choice?” Porsche asks. There’s something deliberate to his tone that Kinn can’t figure out. 

Kinn could say Porsche only needs to come to him if he wants to. As his business partner, Kinn has to trust Porsche to know how to handle things. Even if Porsche is new to all of this, it wouldn’t look good to the board if Kinn kept having to sweep in and manage in his place.

Except this isn’t about the business. As Porsche’s boyfriend, and as his dom, sometimes he has to make decisions for Porsche’s own well-being. Kinn won’t push Porsche into a scene he absolutely doesn’t want to do, that’s a line he will never cross. Even so, Kinn’s instincts are never wrong—Porsche needs this, it’s written all over his face. A gentle nudge is sometimes all he needs to admit it. 

“You always have a choice,” Kinn says. “You know how to say no.” 

Their safe word system can be used in the lead up to scenes, too. If Porsche really doesn’t want Kinn to interfere in this particular way, there’s a simple method to communicate that.

Frustration bleeds into Porsche’s expression, like Kinn isn’t getting it, “No,” he says, impatient, then stops. He’s quiet for a moment, careful with the way he phrases his next words. “I need you to give me no choice.”

Realisation spreads thickly through Kinn’s veins. His chest feels heavy at exactly what Porsche is asking, at how much trust Porsche puts in him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kinn murmurs. “It’s that bad.”

Porsche looks away, his gaze dropping, like he’s ashamed of it. It makes the space behind Kinn’s ribs feel hollow. Porsche is coming apart at the seams. The events of the last month have not been kind to him; not knowing whether he and Kinn would survive the shootout, discovering his mother has been alive but out of reach for almost two decades, being propelled into leadership as the head of the minor family. It’s a lot to process in such a short amount of time. 

Kinn understands the reason for Porsche’s hesitance. His need to excel at the job he’s been thrust into is fighting against his own desire to have all responsibilities lifted from his shoulders by Kinn, if only temporarily. Porsche is free to refuse him at any point. Kinn would never deny him that freedom, and Porsche knows that. But Porsche is asking Kinn to make him anyway. The only thing that can get Porsche to submit when he gets wrapped up in his own head like this is if Kinn gives him no other option.

Kinn pulls himself up to full height. He allows a cold mask to settle over his expression, his stare dark and unwavering. Gripping Porsche’s chin, he tilts Porsche’s face up until Porsche has no choice but to look at him. Porsche’s breath catches, his eyes simmering with a distressed edge.

“Tell me, Porsche,” Kinn says slowly. “Are you allowed to decline a meeting invitation from the head of the major family?” 

Porsche visibly struggles to find the words. Kinn waits patiently, stroking his finger delicately along his cheek.

“No,” Porsche replies eventually. It looks like it took a lot out of him to do so.

“And if I want you back home, in our room, to play with you as I please. Are you allowed to refuse?” 

Porsche swallows thickly. “No.”

“No,” Kinn repeats, low and dangerous, “because you’re mine. You belong to me.” 

Porsche has gone completely loose-limbed. He stares, entranced, as Kinn leans closer.

“I make the decisions.” Kinn tightens his hold on Porsche’s face. “Not you.” 

The noise that emits from Porsche’s throat is unlike anything Kinn has ever heard. He curls forward into Kinn like he’s been gutted; Kinn catches him effortlessly, letting Porsche burrow so close it’s like he wants to disappear inside Kinn, crack him open and crawl inside where he’s safe. 

Kinn cradles the entire world in his arms and says, “I have you.”

After a moment, Porsche says, “I know,” so quiet that Kinn almost doesn’t hear it.

Kinn needs to leave before they both get carried away. It kills him to leave Porsche when he so clearly needs to go under, but this is not the time nor place for it. The sound of movement all around the homebase, people bustling back and forth, reminds Kinn just how little privacy there is.

Kinn will clear Porsche’s evening schedule. He’ll be better prepared for it later, when everything is less raw. He can come up with a plan and concentrate on giving Porsche exactly what he needs.

Kinn has a private office that leads off his bedroom. Only a select few people have access to it, and it’s the perfect environment for what Kinn has planned. He dresses in casual suit trousers and a plain t-shirt. He’s barefoot, relaxed, knowing it will just be him and Porsche. He foregoes underwear, acknowledging it isn’t very practical for what he intends to have Porsche do.

It’s evening when Porsche arrives, the sun only just beginning to set like an orange coin in the sky. Porsche knocks at the door to the office, even though he doesn’t have to, this room belonging to him as much as Kinn.

Kinn crosses the room and opens it. Porsche greets him with a smile, slightly subdued, which Kinn itches to fix. Porsche has showered since Kinn last saw him, all traces of the ink gone, wearing jeans and a burgundy t-shirt. It’s comfortable, but not as comfortable as Kinn wants him to be.

Kinn presses a sweet kiss to Porsche’s cheek. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Porsche responds. He looks at Kinn expectantly, waiting for his instructions. Kinn’s heart squeezes a little at how earnest he is.

“I laid out some clothes on the bed for you,” Kinn tells him. Porsche turns to look over his shoulder at their bed, spotting the carefully-folded garments. “Get changed into them and then come back, okay?”

“Okay,” Porsche replies easily. 

Kinn leans on the doorframe and watches him drift over to the bed. The grey sweatpants and white t-shirt he chose are the comfiest clothes Kinn owns, and he knows Porsche will appreciate that they smell like him. 

He watches fondly as Porsche takes off the burgundy t-shirt and jeans. He isn’t expecting, the absolute delight that it is, for Porsche to strip off his underwear too. Kinn has to look away from all that glorious skin lest he skip several steps ahead in his plan. Kinn technically didn’t leave him any underwear. Porsche’s brain has merely followed his instructions to the letter. He’s so achingly good that Kinn wants to put him in his pocket.

Porsche pads back over when he’s finished. He’s still holding himself with a lot of tension. Kinn gives him a once over and realises why—he’s still wearing the minor family ring. It’s like a physical reminder of Porsche’s burdens, weighing him down at the base of his finger.

Both Kinn and Porsche always remove them before they sleep. Sometimes, Kinn looks at them together on the bedside table and all he can see is shackles. Kinn isn’t wearing his tonight. He reaches out and slides the ring off Porsche’s finger. 

“You don’t need this here,” Kinn says quietly. 

The transformation in Porsche is immediate. He already looks lighter, some of the tension melting out of him.

This person isn’t Porsche, head of the minor family. 

This is Porsche, the love of his life, who needs to be taken out of his own head. 

Kinn places the ring aside and takes Porsche’s hand. He locks the door as an afterthought, then leads him to the desk. Beneath Kinn’s desk, in the space where his legs go, is a single flat cushion. Porsche goes still when he spots it. Kinn sits down in his office chair, gesturing to his feet.

“Kneel down.”

Porsche goes willingly, ducking down into the space and settling on the cushion, shuffling to face Kinn. Kinn’s desk is huge, the alcove below the surface more than big enough to fit Porsche, who’s sitting back on his heels. Kinn pulls himself closer to the desk until Porsche is nestled between his spread legs. From any other perspective, it would simply look like Kinn was working.

Porsche on his knees is a thing of beauty. Kinn would like nothing more than to bury himself down his pretty throat until he chokes on it, but that is not why they’re here. 

“You’re going to warm my cock,” Kinn says. Porsche eyes, liquid-brown, are already beginning to go hazy. “You’ll kneel under the desk while I complete some paperwork. No sucking, no tongue, no moving at all. You’ll be nothing but a warm mouth. For as long as I want.” 

Porsche makes a tiny, aborted sound. 

“That’s all you need to do.” Kinn reaches out to cradle Porsche’s cheek. “You have nothing else to think about.” 

The words wash over Porsche like a gentle rainfall. His perfect bambi eyes are shining up at Kinn with a kind of longing that makes Kinn’s soul hurt. 

“Would you like that, baby?” 

“Kinn,” he pleads softly, all easy and pliant.

Porsche is slipping under quicker than he ever has before. Kinn has barely touched him but he’s visibly trying to fight the fuzz, blinking owlishly. He tilts his cheek sweetly into Kinn’s palm, nuzzling the skin there, eyes drifting closed. Using the hand on his face, Kinn gives him a very, very gentle shake. 

“Look at me,” Kinn says, and is relieved when Porsche focuses bleary eyes on him, “use your colours.” 

“Green,” Porsche says, almost a whisper. 

“Good boy,” Kinn praises. “I’m in charge here.” A shiver runs through Porsche as Kinn thumbs at the edge of his mouth. “You don’t have to give out any orders. Nobody needs anything from you, except this.” 

The sound of Kinn unzipping his fly makes Porsche’s breath hitch in anticipation. He could ask Porsche to reach in and pull him out, but he worries he’ll get hard if Porsche does that, and then this won’t work. Even soft, Kinn is a respectable size. It will be too uncomfortable for Porsche to hold him in his mouth for an extended amount of time if he’s completely erect. It’s already taking all of Kinn’s willpower to stay relatively unaffected, especially with Porsche settled so obediently between his legs.

Kinn pulls himself out and Porsche doesn’t need any instruction before he’s leaning forward and gently taking Kinn’s cock into his mouth. Kinn isn’t hard, not all the way, just enough that Porsche can hold it comfortably, nose pressed to the root of him. Porsche tilts his head to pillow against Kinn’s leg, the apple of Porsche’s cheek nestling comfortably against Kinn’s thigh. 

Kinn thumbs at Porsche’s other cheek. “Feel good?”

Porsche’s eyes flutter open to look at him. He blinks slowly, which Kinn takes to mean yes. He looks sated already, beginning to drift from nothing but the weight of Kinn in his mouth. He’s wisely keeping his tongue to himself, which Kinn is thankful for.

Kinn rearranges Porsche’s hair, making sure it doesn’t fall into his eyes and irritate him. “Stay still.”

Kinn wasn’t lying about the paperwork. It’s nothing complex, just some forms that need his signature and a brief review. It will keep him busy enough to establish a power imbalance, but not too busy that he’s in danger of neglecting Porsche entirely.

The soft scratching of Kinn’s pen against paper must be enough to lull Porsche into a gentle doze. The weight of him settles fully on Kinn’s thigh, eyes closed, eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks. His features are completely relaxed.

The position they’re in settles the primal protective part of Kinn’s brain. He can see and feel and smell Porsche like this, the sweet peach of his shampoo, the enduring warmth of his mouth, full with Kinn’s cock. Under here, he’s safe and protected and loved. 

Every now and again, Kinn absent-mindedly reaches out a hand to pet the head of hair in his lap and Porsche makes a small sound in his sleep. His hand goes back to writing, and Porsche doesn’t wake.

It’s not even about pleasure, not really. It’s about being close, about the comfort of being intimately connected for no other purpose simply than to exist together. It’s about stripping Porsche of the burdens he carries, reducing him down to this one simple thing—to complete the task Kinn has asked of him.

It’s an hour later when Kinn finishes the last form. The sun has set behind him, the lone desk lamp throwing a muted warm glow over the room.

Porsche hasn’t moved at all. There’s a small patch of drool leaking out of the side of his mouth, Kinn can feel it pooling against his trousers where the corner of Porsche’s lip is pressed to the material. He’s so good and obedient like this. It makes Kinn’s chest clench knowing that he gets to call Porsche his. 

“Sweet boy,” Kinn murmurs. Porsche sleeps on, blissfully unaware.

The sudden rattling of the office door handle makes Kinn’s thighs tense up. Porsche stirs slightly, making a small sound of complaint. Kinn presses his left hand soothingly against Porsche’s scalp to settle him. It has the added benefit of holding him in place so he doesn’t pull off—not that Porsche seems inclined to. It appears as if he’s still asleep, his breaths slow and even.

Kinn is sitting close enough to his desk that nothing can be seen below his waist, and the front of the desk that faces the door is solid oak all the way to the floor. Porsche is completely hidden, tucked away in the alcove between Kinn’s legs. 

There’s only a select few people that have knowledge of this office, and only one with the guts to pick the lock. As the door swings open, Kinn just about has time to school his expression into something neutral.

“Where is he?” Kim asks, walking inside without any prior greeting. 

Kinn cocks his head curiously, “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Kim throws him a look, “where is Porsche?”

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t actually have his whereabouts beamed directly into my head via a GPS.”

“Why not?” Kim shoots back coolly. “With how often he seems to go rogue, I thought you’d have put a tracker on him by now.” 

Kinn doesn’t respond to that. His hand tightens in Porsche’s hair, reminding him exactly where he is. Safe and sound, where he belongs. 

“Why did you think he was with me?” 

“I checked his schedule,” Kim picks out a book from one of the shelves and pretends to inspect it, “the whole thing had been blacked out this evening and tomorrow morning. I figured you’re the only person who can monopolise his time like that.” 

Kinn barely resists rolling his eyes. “What do you want?” 

“I have something to discuss with him,” Kim says. There’s a slight pause, then he clarifies, “Regarding the minor clan.” 

Kinn stares at him. Kim may be estranged, but he’s still his brother. Kinn can tell he's only half telling the truth: Kim wants to speak to Porsche, but it doesn’t have anything to do with the business. Kinn has a sneaking suspicion it’s due to Porschay. Kinn has no idea what happened between the two of them, but Kim wouldn’t run into gunfire to save a kidnapped teenager if they were mere strangers. Kinn has absolutely no intention of risking Porsche overhearing any of that.

“That’s not why you want to speak with him,” Kinn dismisses. A hint of annoyance slips through Kim’s poker face. “But it doesn’t matter. He isn’t here.”

“Where is he? What else can be so important?”

“He’s taking a personal schedule,” Kinn says tightly, beginning to get irritated. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m busy. Lock the door on your way out.” 

The authority in his voice is unmistakable even to Kim. He can tell his brother wants to continue to argue, but something about Kinn’s expression must convince him not to. Kim walks back to the door without another word. Kinn waits for the sound of the lock clicking in place before he leans back to check on Porsche. His eyes are half-open, his mind sliding slowly into wakefulness.

“Porsche,” Kinn calls quietly.

When he gets no response, he cups Porsche’s jaw and encourages him to lift his head. Porsche makes a sleepy noise of protest as Kinn slips out of his mouth. Kinn thumbs away the saliva at the corner of his lip. 

“I’m sorry,” Kinn says, “did he wake you?” 

Porsche looks drunk with how relaxed he is. “Who wassit?” he mumbles. 

An unbearable fondness spreads throughout Kinn’s entire body. “Nobody,” Kinn says with a smile, “you’re really far down, baby.”

Porsche starts to squirm restlessly in place at the attention. Kinn slides his thumb into his mouth and Porsche latches onto it, sucking gratefully. Kinn glances down at Porsche’s lap, catching the shape of Porsche’s half-hard cock beneath the sweatpants. 

“And you appear to be enjoying yourself,” Kinn remarks. 

Kinn presses his foot over the gentle swell of Porsche’s dick. Porsche gasps and bucks against it, like he forgot about pleasure entirely, the heat suddenly crashing through him all at once. He moans softly around Kinn’s thumb, hips undulating in a gentle grind.

Kinn takes his foot away and Porsche whines.

“Easy, I just need to check in.” Kinn slides his thumb out of Porsche’s mouth so he can speak. “Are you sure you want more? We don’t have to. You can just have this for as long as you want.”

A grumpy expression filters through the lust on Porsche’s face. One of Porsche’s hard limits is Kinn not coming during a scene. He needs to feel useful, like his body can be used as more than just a weapon—that it can also bring pleasure. Kinn knows that, but it’s important that he asks anyway.

“Green,” Porsche says, a little petulantly. 

Kinn pushes his chair away from the desk, giving Porsche room to move out from beneath it. He doesn’t go far, crawling forward to kneel back between Kinn’s legs again like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Good boy,” Kinn says. He fists a hand into the top of Porsche’s hair and tugs, wrenching Porsche’s head back. Porsche gasps at the sting, his wrists automatically crossing at his back.

Kinn takes a moment just to admire him. Porsche is panting already, a warm flush spreading down his neck. His nipples are tight and pebbled beneath the shirt, his mouth pink and open. Empty.

Kinn guides him forward to where he’s still half-hard against his thigh. “Get me hard.”

It doesn’t take long. Porsche no longer has to keep still, and Kinn no longer has to hold back. Porsche swallows him down to the root, running the flat of his tongue down the underside, pulling up to swipe into the slit before forcing his head down to the base again. Kinn swells rapidly in his mouth and Porsche chokes as it hits his soft palate, his moans muffled, the vibration making Kinn’s hips kick up. Kinn pulls out before he can choke again, hand tightening in Porsche’s hair. 

Face tipped up, eyes closed, lashes dark on his cheeks, Porsche looks so fucking pretty. He licks all over Kinn’s cock, suckling at the head, letting Kinn rub it against his cheeks, all soft and pliant, allowing himself to be swept up in it. Porsche opens his eyes and blinks up at Kinn, and Kinn sees they're glazed over and hazy, pupils blown. He looks hungry.

“Do you want to be fucked or do you just want to come?” 

“Mmm,” Porsche says intelligently, “wanna be fucked.”

Kinn releases his hair. “Come up here.”

Porsche lethargically strips off the shirt and wriggles out of the sweatpants before clambering into Kinn’s lap completely naked. Kinn’s chair has no arms and a wide seat, so he fits easily with his knees spread either side of Kinn’s thighs. Porsche paws at Kinn’s shirt until Kinn allows him to tug it over his head. Porsche sighs as he caresses the skin that’s revealed, hands squeezing the muscle of Kinn’s shoulders to ground himself. 

While he’s distracted, Kinn fishes a bottle of lube out of the desk drawer, coating his fingers in a generous amount. Kinn settles his clean hand at the hollow of Porsche’s throat. Porsche always seems to drift further when he holds him there, pulling his walls down further, stripped back to his basic instincts. 

Porsche hisses as Kinn pushes two fingers in but they slip in with barely any resistance, more easily than they normally would; he’s all warm inside, a little loose, and Kinn just wants to bury himself there forever. He has the faintest impression that Porsche would let him.

“You stretched yourself open before you came here,” Kinn realises. Heat pulses in his gut just at the thought — Porsche will go to any lengths to ensure Kinn can get inside him as quickly as possible. “Always so needy, hm?” 

Porsche wriggles further down on his fingers in response, cheeks aflame. He’s not embarrassed by it, not really, but he loves when Kinn calls him out when he’s in this particular headspace. 

“It’s not a bad thing, sweetheart,” Kinn says. “You did so well to get yourself ready for me. Such a good boy.” 

Porsche preens at the praise; it hadn’t taken much longer than ten minutes into their first scene for Kinn to realise just how well he responds to it, goes all hazy-eyed and pliant, and Kinn is more than happy to give him as much as he can.

Kinn drags his fingers purposefully over his prostate, a slow back-and-forth that morphs into leisurely circles and makes him moan helplessly. His whole body is shaking with anticipation by the time Kinn finally drags his fingers out to line up his cock. The thick tip of it nudges Porsche’s hole before he stops.

“If you want it,” Kinn says, “you have to do it yourself.” 

Kinn lets go of Porsche entirely. The instruction filters through the haze in Porsche’s brain and Porsche reaches back clumsily, sinking down slowly onto Kinn’s cock, easing inside inch by inch, his face screwed up at the initial perfect stretch. Then he sighs, a little heavy, once he finally feels his ass touching the top of Kinn’s thighs. He moves his hips in small circles, trying to get used to how full it feels.

“Kinn,” Porsche breathes out, lethargic and slow to move.

Impatient, Kinn spanks him on the globe of his asscheek. Porsche bucks at the sharp sting, ends up grinding down in Kinn’s lap, his cock sinking impossibly deeper. Porsche whimpers but gets the message, rising up onto his knees, slow and careful, before slamming back down to the hilt.

It punches a low noise out of Kinn, Porsche tightening around him, setting up a steady rhythm, his powerful thighs lifting himself almost entirely off only to drop back down, over and over. Kinn’s hands fly to Porsche’s thighs, his fingernails biting into the skin, the pain only making Porsche gasp and move faster.

Porsche riding him is always an absolute vision. He disappears into the feeling entirely, mindless, hips chasing the deep brush of Kinn’s length against his prostate. His cock is dripping precome where it drags across Kinn’s abdomen, slick and messy. Kinn leans in and sucks on one of Porsche’s nipples, dragging his nail across the other. 

Porsche probably doesn’t realise the noises he’s making until Kinn seals a palm over his mouth, squeezing Porsche’s face. Porsche’s eyes roll back, muffled moans spilling out from the sides of Kinn’s hand. His rhythm falters, unable to concentrate when Kinn manhandles him so perfectly. This is going to be over soon for Porsche. He’s too worked up from having Kinn in his mouth for over an hour, and has probably been on edge since he prepared himself for Kinn’s cock.

“I wanna see how pretty you are when you come for me.” Kinn says. His gentle authority goes to Porsche’s head unlike anything else.

Porsche’s pace is slowing, his thighs burning from the strain. His expression twists into something aching, tormented, unable to maintain the fast rhythm he needs. Kinn eventually takes pity on him.

Kinn grabs Porsche where his ass meets his thighs, braces his feet flat against the ground and fucks up, using the leverage to bounce Porsche on his cock like he weighs nothing. Porsche cries out helplessly, falling forward from the force of it, bracing a hand on Kinn’s shoulder. Kinn is fucking him so deep he wouldn’t be surprised if he could see the shape he’s carving beneath Porsche’s abdomen. Porsche can’t do anything but hold the position and take it, his knees shaking.

“That’s better,” Kinn pants, trying to keep his voice even. “You did so well, but I know what you really need. Letting me keep you full, nothing but a warm hole to be fucked. You always take it so perfectly—made for it, baby, this is exactly where you belong.” 

It doesn’t seem like Porsche can even hear him anymore. He looks completely fucked-drunk, hand a blur over his own dick as he barrels closer to the edge. Desire burns like fire in Kinn’s veins, watching Porsche become unmade.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Porsche, I have no idea what I did to deserve you. I could watch you like this forever, keep you pinned on my cock—”

Porsche’s entire body goes taut as his back bows and he comes over his own fist, dripping down his knuckles in thick spurts, mouth open and completely silent as the pleasure crashes through him. Kinn spreads his cheeks and keeps fucking him, skin slapping skin, waiting for that moment where the orgasm tips over into too much, too soon.  

It doesn’t take long. Porsche lets go of his spent cock, eyes flying open, his hand coming down on Kinn’s shoulder to try to keep his balance as Kinn pounds into him at a brutal pace. 

“Kinn,” he gasps, unable to get his breath, eyes shocked wide, “Kinn, Kinn—”

Porsche begins to make hurt little noises on every thrust in, his fingernails biting into Kinn’s shoulders, the sensitivity making him rear up on shaky knees to try to get away from the slam against his prostate. Kinn stops moving, lets him pull off only until the tip is still inside, then he just holds him there, hovering above the cradle of Kinn’s pelvis. 

Porsche cannot hold this position for long. His legs are already trembling from riding Kinn and his recent orgasm—the only thing stopping him from dropping back down onto Kinn’s cock is Kinn’s hands on his waist, and what’s left of the strength in his limbs. 

Porsche’s chest heaves. There are tears shimmering along his lash line that make the pit of Kinn’s stomach clench pleasantly. 

“Sit back down,” Kinn says, low and firm. 

“I—I can’t,” Porsche gets out. 

He doesn’t safeword out. Wet eyes look down at Kinn, simmering with something desperate. It’s not desperation for Kinn to stop. It’s desperation for him to keep going. To make him. Kinn’s blood runs hot. 

“You can,” Kinn tells him. He lets go of Porsche’s waist entirely. Porsche wobbles as he tries to keep himself suspended, sliding down an inch. He makes a small ah at the stretch, eyes squeezed shut. 

Kinn laughs softly. He pushes Porsche’s hair back from his forehead so he can better see his face, smiling at the way his expression twists. Kinn’s cock throbs with the need to come, to bury himself as deep inside Porsche as he can go, but he quite enjoys this little game they’re playing. 

“How long do you think you can kneel there before you give in?” 

Porsche’s hands knead restlessly on his shoulders. His thighs are tense with the strain; Kinn can feel them from where they’re spread wide against his own. One of his knees slips against the leather and Porsche sucks in a breath as more of Kinn breaches him before he catches himself halfway down. 

The windows in his office are floor to ceiling just like his bedroom. Kinn has his back to the night sky, but the artificial lights of the skyscrapers illuminate Porsche’s face, reflecting in his eyes. Porsche’s eye line is on level with the buildings outside.

“They can probably see you,” Kinn says. Porsche inhales sharply, staring down at him in shock. “They saw the way you bounced in my lap until you came all over yourself.” Kinn smiles, slow and indulgent. “Why are you trying so hard to resist? They already know what a little cockslut you are.” 

Porsche clenches around half his length in response. Knowing he’s only proving Kinn’s point, his face burns.

“Admit it,” Kinn says, voice low. “You can’t think straight unless you’re stuffed full.” 

Porsche’s eyes are so dark they look black. A bead of sweat drips down his temple and into Kinn’s lap. Kinn’s hand reaches out to massage Porsche’s soft cock, using Porsche’s own come to slick the way. Porsche lets out a broken noise, fingers digging so hard into Kinn’s shoulders he’s going to leave bruises.

“Kinn,” Porsche moans, “it’s too much.”

In exact contrast to his words, Porsche’s dick jerks and begins to fill out against Kinn’s palm. The wet sounds make Porsche shudder. 

Kinn squeezes him. “This part of you tells me otherwise.”

Porsche’s hips twitch up. He lets out a slow, shaky breath in defeat. “Please,” he whispers. 

“I already told you before,” Kinn replies. “If you want it, you have to take it yourself.” 

The sound Porsche makes when he finally breaks is a beautiful thing. He drops back down all the way, taking Kinn entirely to the base with a full-body shudder, his ass nestled against Kinn’s thighs. His arms wrap around Kinn’s neck, burying his head into the crook of it.

“There you go,” Kinn murmurs, cupping the back of his head, “good boy. Doesn’t it feel better to be full?” 

Porsche gives a tiny nod into the crook of his neck. He begins to mouth and kiss weakly at the skin there, which is a good indication that he still wants more. Still inside him, Kinn stands up with Porsche in his arms, laying him out on his back on the desk. Porsche’s head lolls against the wood, eyes half-lidded and not all the way there. Kinn guides his thighs back towards his chest, spread wide, and Porsche just keeps them there.

“Want to come inside you, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little bit longer for me?” 

Porsche swallows, tongue too heavy in his mouth, and gives a shaky nod. Kinn thumbs the tip of his cock as a reward, filled out to full hardness again. He flips the cap off the lube and drizzles some onto Porsche’s cock. Porsche barely even twitches at the cold, too far gone. 

Kinn leans down and kisses him. Porsche is slow to move, lips barely stirring against his, but he gives a tiny adorable hum that makes Kinn smile despite himself. 

“You can come one more time for me,” Kinn says. 

A soft, overwhelmed noise against his mouth, but Kinn knows better. Porsche will come again because Kinn has told him he can come again. 

Kinn uses both hands around Porsche’s hips to drag him towards him until his ass hangs just over the edge of the desk. Cradled in Kinn’s grip, legs spread wide, he’s completely helpless like this. Kinn could do whatever he wanted with him and Porsche would probably thank him for it. Kinn’s cock throbs where he’s buried inside just at the sight of him.

“You always did look good on your back, baby.”

Kinn is rewarded with a small whine. There’s no warning before Kinn is driving in at a rapid pace, roughly tugging Porsche back onto his cock. Porsche’s hands are curled limply into his chest, his fingers twitching with every brush against his prostate. It must ache, the overstimulation raw and a little painful, but Porsche just takes it. He’s making high little noises every time Kinn fucks in, like he’s unable to stop them from slipping out. 

Kinn reaches down and guides one of Porsche’s hands to Porsche’s cock, laying flat against his belly. Porsche wraps his fingers around it clumsily, a furrow of pain-pleasure between his brows. Porsche doesn’t have the energy to move, his mind already slipping away to that floaty place, but the impact of Kinn’s hips against his ass jostles his cock, fucking it through his own fist. 

The second peak builds slower than the first. Porsche’s toes curl as Kinn aims for that spot inside him with deep, dragging thrusts, the tension in Porsche’s body building with every loud slap of skin against skin, the sounds wet and filthy, until he’s making a shattered-sounding noise and coming again, mostly dry, the pleasure radiating from inside, shaking his way through it.

Even through the haze of his second orgasm, eyes lidded, Porsche reaches down with a trembling hand to his hole, feels the hot stretch of his rim where he’s being split open around Kinn’s cock. He makes a needy sound that makes Kinn’s abdomen clench and then Kinn is slamming into Porsche as he comes, pumping deep inside him, curling over into his body with the force of it. 

“Fuck,” Kinn groans, muffled into his neck as he rides it out, “Porsche.”

Porsche’s limp arms encircle his shoulders as Kinn catches his breath. He leans up over Porsche to get a glimpse of his dazed face, pressing a kiss against the tip of his nose. Porsche scrunches it up in response.

“Want a plug?” Kinn asks. 

Porsche shakes his head languidly against the desk. “Want you,” he mumbles.

“You have me,” Kinn pets through his sweaty hair. Porsche hums happily. “Let’s move to the bedroom.”

While Porsche is still floaty and content, Kinn takes the opportunity to carefully pull out. Porsche only makes a quiet grouchy noise and then falls silent. Kinn sweeps him up into his arms, carrying him to the door, somehow unlocking it without dropping him, then deposits him gently on the bed. Kinn gives him only a quick wipe-down with a towel to get the worst of the mess, tossing it aside once Porsche makes grabby hands at him.

Kinn settles down on his back and Porsche rolls onto his side to snuggle into Kinn’s body, all soft and content and a little sleepy, breathing out one long, slow breath. 

“You with me?” Kinn murmurs.

Porsche hums in affirmation. He tucks his face into the crook of Kinn’s neck and kisses the warm skin and that’s as good of an answer as any. Kinn can’t help but lean down to kiss him, pride aglow in his chest because it was him who made Porsche feel this at ease. Porsche makes a happy sound into the kiss before relaxing into the sheets, a puddle of contentment.

Kinn picks up a bottle of water from the bedside table. He helps prop up Porsche’s head and holds the bottle up to his lips, helping him take a few big gulps of water. Porsche drains half of it before Kinn finally pulls the bottle away. “Good?”

“Good,” Porsche agrees. Kinn leans in to kiss him, gentle but deep and lingering, and feels warm all over at Porsche’s content little hums. Porsche lets him lick into his mouth over and over, all pliant and lovely.

When they can finally bring themselves to separate, Kinn says, “I got you something sweet,” then moves to climb off the bed.

“Noooo,” Porsche whines softly, “don’t leave me.”

Kinn’s chest squeezes. His love for this man is too large to be kept in such a small space.

“I’m not leaving you,” Kinn assures him, pressing a kiss over his eyebrow. “I just have to go and grab it.”

Kinn fetches the bowl he left inside a cooler and returns to stand at the side of the bed. He presents it dramatically to Porsche, holding it out with both hands at arm’s length like it’s a prestigious award and not just some fruit cut up into pieces.

“You got me melon.” Porsche waggles his feet side to side in delight.

Kinn’s soft laugh is fond, climbing back onto the bed. “I did.”

Porsche sits up to face him, his hair sticking up adorably. Kinn presses a chunk of melon against Porsche’s mouth until he parts his lip to accept it, even licking the trace of the juice off the tip of Kinn’s finger. The sweetness bursts in Porsche’s mouth when he bites down, making him groan obscenely.

Kinn alternates between feeding himself and Porsche pieces of the melon until the bowl is empty, letting Porsche lick into his mouth to taste the traces of it from his tongue. At this moment, Porsche is only focused on chasing the sugary taste, content with just deepening the kiss, and this is exactly how Kinn wants him to be, always untroubled and stress-free. Something settles within him when he finally registers that Porsche is happy. Kinn was the one who did that.

Once he’s had his fill, Porsche pulls back only far enough to gaze at Kinn. There isn’t a trace of stress or tension on his face. The relief settles warmly in Kinn’s chest. 

He murmurs, “You’re okay,” almost without meaning to, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Porsche must pick up on something, either in Kinn’s voice or his expression, because his face morphs into gentle understanding.

“I am,” Porsche says softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Kinn’s ear. “I feel good. You made me feel good.”

It’s usually Kinn who gives out the reassurances after a scene, but Porsche can always tell when Kinn needs to hear them. There’s no better feeling than knowing he successfully gave Porsche exactly what he needed.

Porsche's eyelids are starting to droop. Kinn shuffles them around until they’re cuddled together beneath the sheets, Porsche’s head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Go to sleep, Porsche.” 

Kinn isn’t met with a response and he doesn’t expect one. They still need to talk about how Porsche isn’t expected to carry everything alone, not needing to hold himself together as long as Kinn is beside him. Kinn will come up with a plan to alleviate the stress of Porsche’s new mantle and help him process everything that hurt him. For now, Kinn buries his face into soft, mussed hair and lets the regular rise and fall of Porsche’s chest lull him to sleep.