Archive of Our Own

The first mark Kinn gave Porsche was for obedience. The tattoo-mage had inspected his skin carefully while Kinn watched, running the pads of her fingers across it here and there, Porsche flinching at every touch, clearly anticipating the pain of the needle pricking his skin.

Porsche had given in like so many before him; not because of threats or avarice but out of love. Noble, to put your family above yourself, Kinn thought. Hadn’t he done as much himself? Useful because that love could always been used as a weapon against him.

“Aiya,” the tattoo-mage said, “the solar plexus is no good. See this scar here? It would break the circle. Who knows what would leak out?”

Kinn resisted rolling his eyes. Mages were always so dramatic.

“Put it somewhere else then,” he said impatiently. In the tattoo chair Porsche was twisting as if he wanted to see what scar the tattoo-mage had been talking about.

“Aiya,” the tattoo-mage said. “But where?” She hummed and poked at the beautiful skin some more. “The only place is the root chakra,” she said, her fingers skimming almost into Porsche’s asscrack.

“Then do it,” Kinn said.

“Ah, this magic circle is a difficult one,” the tattoo-mage said, tracing a circle at the base of Porsche’s spine. “Obedience is a complicated thing to command. Will is like water, always trying to find an escape.”

“So?” Kinn asked, at the edge of his nerves. If he hadn’t had to be there so the circle would be keyed to him he’d have left, let Big oversee the ordeal.

“It’s unpredictable over the root chakra,” she said. “The root of self, of desire. Who knows what the effects will be?”

“Will he be obedient?” Kinn demanded. Porsche flinched at the word but remained silent. He’d agreed to this after all.

The tattoo-mage sucked her teeth. “Yes,” she said, finally.

“Then do it,” Kinn demanded.

Bamboo tattooing was a long and painful process. Kinn had several circles of his own, spiraling down the length of his spine and he remembered how you felt every impact of the needle in the thin skin over muscle and bone. Porsche tensed white knuckles clenched on the edge of the tattoo chair, but did not flinch again.

Kinn stared as the ink was pushed in with a thin thread of golden magic, as blood trickled out, as Porsche’s beautiful skin grew red and swollen around the mark. Kinn’s mark on Porsche’s skin.

Obedience was the first circle every bodyguard- and servant and chauffeur and subsidiary- was given. It was almost ceremonial, since to really utilize the tattoo you had to make sure your commands were comprehensive when you gave them, for everything but the most simple. Otherwise, it was too easy to find a way to obey the letter of the law but not the spirit of it.

Porsche would do that, Kinn had no doubt. He was insucient, defiant. He’d accepted the deal and then proceeded to do everything he could to make Kinn regret it- nevermind that Kinn hadn’t wanted him in the first place. Porsche would test boundaries, would push and push.

And would find a solid wall, would find himself being punished every time he went too far, Kinn told himself. He wouldn’t get special treatment because he was beautiful, wouldn’t get out of trouble with his easy charm.

He had barely been able to keep himself from grabbing Porsche’s shirt and lifting it up to see the tattoo in the days that followed. He wanted to see the red puffy skin, the scabs, the peeling. Porsche wore his pants as low as he could get away with to avoid the waistband rubbing at his sensitive skin and so Kinn got a look at it now and then, when Porsche lifted his shirt in irritation, probably at the way his shirt itched against it, when he threw his shirt off altogether, hot and sweaty from a work out, when he stretched and the hem of the shirt riding up just high enough that Kinn could see it, the intricate black circle of ancient characters, the still irritated skin blistering around it.

It took a while for the magic to become entwined with the system, Kinn knew, for the essence of obedience to really take root. And, in a few weeks things did calm down; Porsche was too proud to remain bad at anything and so started training harder, working on mastering every aspect of his duties the way he must have worked on bartending and taekwondo and flirting with rich heiresses, and Kinn stopped worrying so much about him.

He tried very hard not to want Porsche. There were people in this world you should fuck and people you shouldn’t. Bodyguard were purely in the ‘shouldn’t class,’ moreso perhaps than anyone else. Bodyguards were in the line of fire, were responsible for protecting you, not the otherway around. If he started thinking… if he started thinking about one of them as anything else it could distract him enough to be fatal to both of them. So no, he would not want him. He decided not to want him again and again.

And then Porsche would look at him with that cheeky grin, or he’d tell a joke that made the other bodyguards laugh, or Kinn would catch a sight of that blasted mark. The peeling was mostly done with, the skin no longer swollen and red. Kinn wanted to lay the flat of his tongue on it, to lick at it while Porsche squirmed, then to run his mouth down the crease between those two beautiful buttcheeks, to prod at his hole with the tip of his tongue until he begged.

And he’d swallow and double his resolve and try to look away from Porsche without seeing Porsche look at him back.

Because that was the thing that burned in his veins the most, that woke him up hard, that tested his resolve; Porsche looking back at him with heat in his eyes, Porsche’s capable fingers straying too close, Porsche’s tongue tracing a path along his lower lip in a way which couldn’t be interpreted as innocent. Porsche wanted him back.

Except sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he was as cold and angry as he’d been when they first met. Sometimes he would say deeply confusing things like ‘You don’t have a girlfriend?’ Sometimes he’d disobey Kinn’s vague orders in a way that made it clear that he hated Kinn and everything he stood for. Which was… fair. And angry sex could be good too.

No, Kinn chastized himself. There would be no sex angry or otherwise, not with Porsche anyway. There would be lots of sex with the high-class prostitutes he had delivered to his bedroom, their spines marked with the sigils for flexibility and endurance and beauty and charm, their bodies lean and well-tended, skin treated with lotions and oils, groins meticulously waxed. They’d coo over Kinn’s muscles and giggle when he licked their nipples and speak in coy shrill voices. They’d would let him do what he wanted and moan artificially and pout when he sent them away.

He’d never wanted muscles rippling under his fingers before, he’d never wanted defiance and challenge. And then Kinn fucked up his coffee on purpose and brought it to him with over-the-top fake obsequiousness, bowing and saying ‘Khun Kinn, your coffee, please’ and handing it over with two hands and a wink and eyes blown wide with lust and it was all he could do to stop himself from dashing the worst coffee he had tasted in his life on the ground and grabbing Porsche by the shoulders and throwing him against the wall.

But he’d pull it back, stuff the feeling away, dismiss Porsche with a careless wave of his hand, tried not to see the shadow of the black tattoo on Porsche’s back as he sauntered away.

Porsche got drunk the first time he was assigned to bodyguard detail, got drunk because Kinn had not explicitly ordered him not to, because he was always wanted to push buttons, to test boundaries, to see how far he could take it until Kinn snapped. (Kinn wanted to snap, wanted to tie him to the bed and show him how mean he could be).

Afterwards, when Kinn got Porsche alone, thrumming with anger, Porsche smiled at him and mocked him, asked him, teasingly, what good the obedience circle was for. Kinn raised one eyebrow and told him to drop to his knees and open his mouth and Porsche dropped.

But the wide-eyed look angry look Kinn was expecting wasn’t there. Porsche didn’t resist the command. Instead he licked his lips and opened his mouth wide, let his tongue hang out just a little. Instead he looked up at Kinn and arched an eyebrow as if to ask him what was taking him so long.

Kinn shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, his fingers trembled on his fly, his breath caming in short sharp pants, Porsche’s mouth still open, his eyes twinkling up at him as if this had all been his idea, the edges of his mouth tilted up into a smile.

Kinn shoved his pants and underwear down under his cock and wished he had something to brace himself against and Porsche leaned forward and licked the tip of Kinn’s leaking cock then sat back and waited.

Will you order me again? his expression asked, teasing, challenging. And Kinn opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what, he just wanted Porsche’s hot mouth on him, his tongue slipping over the head, his throat struggling with Kinn’s length, his hunger eating Kinn down.

And then Porsche surged forward, his hands on Kinn’s hips, his tongue slipping along Kinn’s length as his mouth wrapped around him, his cheeks hollowing, one hand cupping Kinn’s ass and the other wrapped around the base of Kinn’s dick, holding it steady.

He wasn’t an expert at it, that much was evident, though maybe Kinn had been spoiled by his stable of professional whores. He was wet, sloppy, and eager, fumbling a little, choking and gagging when he let Kinn go too deep, but it was still so good, better than any of the whores in a way he couldn’t explain. He cupped the back of Porsche’s head and tugged his hair until he hit the right rhythm, tried to keep his hips still, tried to make it last as long as he could, until the moment when he couldn’t stop it, when he pulled Porsche’s head away and splattered across his face.

Porsche licked his lips, slowly and seductively, staring up at Kinn until Kinn pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and brusquely wiped his face clean and stepped away. “You can go,” he said, not looking back at him. He dropped the handkerchief into a trash bin.

“Yes, Khun Kinn,” Porsche said, his voice roughened, sounding amused.

Kinn didn’t look at him when he got to he knees and left, only stared out the window until he was sure Porsche was gone.

Later Kinn would wonder how much he’d done before with men. His intelligence had revealed Porsche to be a slut, fucking women in the alley behind the bar he’d worked at, but only women. Why would someone that hungry for cock, that confident when asking for it only have fucked women? It was a puzzle, one among others Kinn couldn’t answer, like the looks Porsche cut at him in the following days, confused, wary looks, like how Porsche stopped being such a brat for a while, just when he’d have expected him to step up his game.

It was better anyway, Kinn had crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed and Porsche was giving him a way to step back, to regain control. He had to… he had to focus on his work.

Porsche’s three month period came and Kinn brought him to the tattoo-mage again. She ran her fingers over the circle the way Kinn had stopped him self from wanting to. He looked away from the sight only to meet Porsche’s eyes, narrowed and interested.

The tattoo-mage laid the flat of her hand on the tattoo and Porsche flinched. Without meaning to Kinn rested his hand on the top of Porsche’s head, threading his fingers through Porsche’s thick hair. When had he gotten so close? Porsche relaxed into the touch and didn’t flinch again, even when the tattoo-mage tapped at the circle.

“The magic has intertwined with his meridians,” the tattoo-mage said. “It’s well-aligned. He can take another tattoo, if you wish.”

“Do you want another tattoo?” Kinn asked, his voice coming out more softly than he meant it to.

“Yes,” Porsche said. His eyes were closed now. He moved his head a little, as if pushing it into Kinn’s hand. “Endurance.”

Kinn’s breath caught. Porsche would look like a whore with circles for endurance and obedience engraved on his back.

The tattoo-mage nodded. “I can put it on the left shoulder-blade,” she said. “Endurance circles do best when they’re not on the major meridians.”

Kinn stepped away to give her room to work, and Porsche made a protesting sound. Kinn moved to his other side and Porsche turned his head to look at him, away from where the tattoo-mage was preparing her tools.

“P’Kinn,” Porsche whispered and he shouldn’t have, he really shouldn’t have, but Kinn put his hand back on Porsche’s head, rubbed at his scalp while the tattoo-mage inked her needles and begin to sink them into Porsche’s skin.

Kinn wanted to tell Porsche that he was doing good, that he was brave and strong, but he bit down on his tongue. Even his hand in Porsche’s hair was crossing a line.

Tankhun sailed into the room, faux foxfur dripping off his shoulders, fingernails painted a glittering purple and posed like he’d mistaken Kinn’s sitting room for a runway.

Kinn sighed and waited. Khun pouted, then sat gingerly on the edge of Kinn’s couch, a dissatisfied air about him, his bodyguards/ babysitters pretending to be invisible on the other side of the room.

Kinn looked at him. Khun pouted at him for a moment longer, then tossed his head. “I want your new bodyguard,” he said.

Kinn blinked. “That doesn’t even make sense,” he said. “His circle is keyed to me.”

Khun sniffed. “Like that matters,” he said. “I don’t care. I want him.”

“What for?” Kinn asked.

“What do you want him for?” Khun demanded. “He’s a terrible bodyguard, everyone knows that. You only want him because you like to look at him.”

Kinn flicked his eyes over the bodyguards who were still pretending they didn’t exist.

“Father gave him to me,” he said finally.

Khun snorted. “You can’t give a person,” he said. “Only people can give themselves. And he’s not going to, so I might as well have him.”

“What do you want him for?” Kinn asked again.

“He’s fun,” Khun said.

“Fun?” Kinn repeated, surprised.

“Isn’t Porsche fun?” Khun asked, turning to look at his bodyguards. They look up, like mannequins coming alive.

“Yeah,” Pete said. “He’s a hoot.”

“There you have it,” Khun said, turning back smugly. “I want to dye his hair,” he added, in a confiding tone. “He has lovely hair. He’d look great in blue. Don’t you think he’d look great with blue hair?” Khun asked the bodyguards.

“Yeah,” Pete said. “It would suit him.”

“You can have Pete,” Khun said, waving a hand dismissively. Pete didn’t react to the offer, only looking a little resigned.

“His circle…” Kinn began.

“Pete are you going to disobey Kinn?” Khun demanded.

“What?” Pete asked, shocked. “No, of course not.”

“There you go,” Khun said. “You take him and I’ll take him.” He smiled at Porsche with glee. “So much fun!”

Well that was a problem solved, he supposed, watching Porsche’s eyes widen when he told him he was being reassigned, wondering what it meant that Porsche’s face flickered through disappointment and relief before settling on blankness.

Tankhun gave Porsche his third tattoo, he heard through the gossip of the bodyguards. He choose a circle that improved intuition, a tiny circle placed just beneath his ear. Kinn looked at it jealously whenever he saw him, hated that someone else had managed someone that had been supposed to be his.

It was even worse because Porsche seemed to enjoy spending time with Khun, allowing him to dye his hair blue and dragging him out to clubs. It was worst because Kinn couldn’t begrudge anything that made Khun him happy.

“We’re going to the aquarium,” Khun announced one day, strutting into Kinn’s sitting room, dressed in a metallic suit meant to look like fish scales. The blue of it matched Porsche’s freshly dyed hair, Kinn noticed, jealously. “Porsche rented out the whole place just for us.”

Kinn raised his eyebrows. “A novel idea,” he said.

“Not really,” Porsche drawled. He’d never quite mastered the ‘bodyguards should be seen and not heard’ thing. He really was better off with Khun. “You rich people do that kind of thing all the time.”

Khun beamed at him. “Porsche’s right!” he said. “We can just throw our money around!”

Kinn sighed. “Thank you for letting me know you’re going out this time,” he said.

Khun rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t asking permission,” he said. “I’m older than you. We’re inviting you to come with us. The whole aquarium is ours,” he added leaning forwards. “We can swim with the sea turtles.”

“We can’t,” Arm cut in quickly. “They’re covered in germs,” he added when everyone turned to look at him.

Khun made a face.

“I have too much to do,” Kinn said quickly.

“We can see how much like a shark your smile is,” Porsche suggested with a smug smile.

Kinn looked at him sharply, but Porsche affected innocence.

“I suppose more people there would be safer,” he allowed.

Khun clapped his hands, then frowned. “Do you have clothes?” he asked.

“I have a lot of clothes,” Kinn said.

Khun issued a long suffering sigh. “Clothes that make you look like a real person,” he said. “Aquarium clothes. Porsche found this suit for me!” He spun around, the iridescent gleam of the fishscale print glimmering.

“I don’t think I have anything like that,” Kinn said.

“Oh, well,” Khun sighed. “I supposed I’ll have to be the only glamourous one. Come along.”

“We’re going now?” Kinn asked.

“Of course we’re going now,” Porsche said. “We only ever do anything at the last minute.”

Kinn wondered how much getting the aquarium closed off for a private event at the last moment was going to cost his family, but Khun was happy. He sighed and called Chan to organize a detail.

Khun was fascinated by the jellyfish. The tank covered an entire wall, the pulsing bodies seeming to glow in the under the lights of the massive tank, the only light source in the dim room. He spent a long time staring at them, their pink and white and red bodies drifting slowly back and forth, long ruffled tentacles moving aimlessly through the water.

He turned to Arm and declared he was going to have a similar tank installed in the mansion.

“I will fire you if you’re the reason Khun ends up spending a fortune on a jellyfish tank,” Kinn whispered to Porsche, who was somehow suddenly standing beside him, his skin tinted blue by the light from the tank.

Porsche chuckled, warm and low. “Don’t worry, I found a new drama for him to watch tomorrow. He’ll forget all about jellyfish.”

They moved on. Khun didn’t care at all for the small bright fish or the tanks made up to resemble estuaries, but when they finally came to the massive reef tank he stared open mouthed.

“Look,” Porsche whispered. “The sharks really do look like you.”

Kinn turned his head, only realizing when their noses almost brushed, how close Porsche was to him. He took a shuddering breath. He’d been wanting this for so long, Porsche so close, Porsche’s brown eyes fixed on him and only him.

He just barely resisted reaching out and tangling his hand in that Porsche’s now blue hair, grabbing him so he can’t get away and biting the circle Khun gave him off his neck.

Porsche laughed, low and warm, and he grabbed Kinn’s hand and tugged him away from the others, through the empty rooms until they arrived back in with the jellyfish, then finally turned to Kinn and backed him up against the glass, his hands tight on Kinn’s collar.

He pressed his forehead into Kinn’s for one long moment, breathing in deeply, as if he’d been missing Kinn’s scent all this time, then, gently, turned his head and licked Kinn’s lips.

Kinn breathed, his hands coming up to curl around Porsche’s hips and pull him even closer. Porsche grined, white teeth turned blue by the light from the tank, then leaned forward again.

All gentleness was gone in the second kiss. Porsche’s mouth meet his like he was trying to eat him, all teeth and tongue and he returned the ferocity doubled, letting go of his hips to grab the back of his neck, his tie, grinding their bodies together. Porsche moaned and Kinn bit his throat. Porshe pressed his hard cock into Kinn’s hip and Kinn grabbed his lapels and flipped them and then yanked off Porsche’s tie and unbuttoned his shirt, just barely managing to resist ripping it off of him, finally getting the last button undone and slipping it off his shoulders. It tangled on his arms, his cuffs still buttoned.

Porsche looked up at him with a blinding smile and laughed, holding up his trapped hands.

Kinn laughed back and fumbled at Porsche’s wrists until he finally got them undone, making the process harder when he leaned forward to suck first on his collarbone, then lower, on his nipple.

Porsche moaned and tried to undo Kinn’s buttons, but Kinn flipped him around and pressed his face against the glass. “P’Kinn,” Porsche whispered.

Kinn reached around Porsche to undo pants and pull them and his underwear down, then knelt down behind him so he could bite the perfect globe of his ass.

“P’Kinn,” Porsche moaned a little louder.

Kinn felt himself grin against Porsche’s skin. It was just as he’d imagined it, Porsche frantic for him, begging. He blew hot air into Porsche’s crack, eliciting another moan, then palmed his ass open, leaning forward and licking hot against his hole.

Porsche whined and shuttered, as Kinn got his hole as wet as he could, licking into his it, then slipping a finger in beside his tongue, trying to be as slow and careful as he could manage, given how hard he was, how much he ached to just shove himself inside Porsche’s tight heat.

“P’Kinn,” Porsche whined again as Kinn inserted another finger, then another, spitting on his hand, getting his cock as wet as he could. He stood and draped himself over Porsche, his cock rubbing against his hole.

“You want this, baby?” he whispered in Porsche’s ear.

“Yes, P’Kinn,” Porsche moaned.

“Beg,” Kinn ordered.

“Please, P’Kinn,” Porsche moaned. “Please fuck me,”

Kinn groaned and pushed in.

Porsche was unbelievably hot and tight and Kinn had to will himself not to come too soon. He tried to push in gently, but Porsche was panting and grinding back into him and whining his name, and before he knew it he was shoving up into him, fingers smearing saliva onto the glass they were pressed against, the jellyfish pulsing past while Porsche shook and cried and Kinn panted and pounded, spitting in one hand and reaching forward to jerk Porsche off as he felt his own orgasm building.

Then Porsche was crying out and coming into Kinn’s hand and Kinn was stuttering and releasing inside of him.

For a long moment after that they were still, Porsche’s forehead pressed into the jellyfish glass, Kinn’s cheek pressed into the back of Porsche’s neck, then Kinn contemplated the cum on his hand and gave it a tentative lick.

“Eww,” Porsche said, and laughed, his voice rough from moaning. “Oh god,” he said. “Do you think people heard us?”

“Probably,” Kinn murmured. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and contemplated Porsche for a moment. “This is going to be uncomfortable no matter what you do,” he said.

Porsche laughed and flipped around, still in the circle of Kinn’s arms. He took the handkerchief and wiped at the mess between his legs then pulled up his underwear, wincing. “This is karma,” he said.

Kinn gave him a questioning look.

“For all the girls I left in this position,” Porsche explained.

Kinn didn’t like the sound of that.

He kissed Porsche, biting his lip in retribution and Porsche laughed and pushed him away. “You taste like cum,” he complained.

Kinn held up his hand, still covered in Porsche’s cum. “You want more?” he asked.

Porsche grinned at him, then ducked out from under his hair. “Uh,” he said, after a moment. “The ride to the compound isn’t going to be fun.”

“Should have thought of that before seducing me in a jellyfish exhibit,” Kinn said. He felt so good he was giddy with it.

The sound of a throat clearing behind them made them turn to see Pete standing in the entrance to the exhibit.

“Hey, Pete,” Porsche said, sounding just as fuck-drunk as Kinn felt.

“Mr. Kinn,” Pete said, “the others are wondering where you’ve gotten off to. Let me escort you to the bathroom so you can take care of…” his voice trailed off.

“Thank you, Pete,” Kinn said, and tried to remember what he usually did with his face.

He wanked to the memory of fucking Porsche against a tank full of jellyfish until his dick was sore and it was almost morning. He spent the morning in his office pretending he was going to be productive any minute now until Khun invaded his territory and started criticizing Kinn’s whole aesthetic, Arm and Porsche follow him in, Arm as professional and Porsche as unprofessional as ever, leaning against the door jamb and smirking at Kinn. Fuck, Kinn’s was getting hard just looking at him.

Khun snapped his fingers in Kinn’s face. “Stop ogling my bodyguard,” he said.

“I was perfectly happy ogling my bodyguard,” Kinn said, “and then you took him away from me.”

Porsche shifted, clearly embarrassed and and Kinn felt a surge of smugness.

Khun huffed. “It’s unacceptable,” he said. He whirled on Porsche. “You were supposed to be protecting me, not letting him fuck you!”

Kinn felt something grow cold inside of him. “You knew?” he said.

“Knew?!” Khun demanded. “You weren’t exactly quiet about it!”

Kinn covered his face with a hand.

“Everyone knows!” Khun said. “These nattering birds-” he waved his hand at Arm and Porsche. “The whole compound probably knows by now.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Porsche muttered.

“You didn’t hide those marks on your neck,” Khun bit back.

“Marks?” Porsche asked, squinting down at his body like he’d be able see his neck and- oh, yes, the several dark bruises under one ear. He looked gnawed on. Kinn tried desperately to repress his libedo. Now was not the time.

He stood, abruptly. “I have to go talk to Father,” he said, striding to the door, not even pausing to look at Porsche as he passed him.

“Yeah, go talk to father!” Khun called after him. “I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say about it!”

Father had a lot to say about it, choice things like ‘you are free to fuck most of Bangkok- and you have’ and ‘fucking someone with an obedience tattoo seems a little low, even for you’ and ‘in front of the goddamed jellyfish?’ and ‘we’ll send him to one of the safe-houses.’

“No!” Kinn blurted out.

Father stared at him. “He’s compromised,” he said. “You’re compromised. Only two things can happen now; he goes from bodyguard to bed warmer or I send him to a safe house.”

He leaned forward. “We do a lot of fucked up things, but we do not keep sex slaves. If he stays he stays because he wants to, not because you ordered him, and you will not order him to do anything, going forward is that clear?”

Kinn did not want a sex slave. He did not a want a bed warmer. He did not want Porsche to leave. Fuck.

Father looked up at Big. “Ask for Porsche to be sent here,” he said.

A moment later Porsche came in, Khun trailing behind him, Arm trailing behind him.

Father posed the question to Porsche, who looked certainly at Kinn for a long moment.

All of Kinn’s spiraling thoughts stilled. All he wanted was Porsche.

“I don’t know what I’ll agreeing to,” Porsche said, and hope jumped in Kinn’s chest.

“You’d become a member of the family,” Father said. “Kinn’s live-in boyfriend. Until you choose to leave.” He paused. “You can always leave.”

Porsche narrowws his eyes. He glances at Kinn but his attention was fixed on Father. “There’s a catch,” he said.

“A memory circle,” Father said. “We wouldn’t want a jilted lover selling all our secrets.”

Porsche was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t,” he said finally. “My wages, they’re supporting my brother.”

“As a member of the family, of course your brother will also be provided for,” Father said, confidently.

Porsche frowned. “Doesn’t that just make me a whore?” he asked.

Weren’t you a whore before? Fucking women for bigger tips? Kinn wanted to demand.

“Everyone sells themselves for something,” Khun said, in a bored tone.

Porsche glances at him, then finally met Kinn’s eyes, as if he thought Kinn might have some insight for him. Kinn felt his insides twist.

“You want me here,” he said to Kinn and Kinn couldn’t help do anything but nod, even if meant he was showing his weakness to everyone. Though he had to admit that that ship was long gone.

“I guess I’ll try it then,” Porsche said. Then he relaxed into the decision. “What’s life like for kept men around here? Breakfast in bed? Are you going to give me jewelry?”

Kinn couldn’t help smiling, for all that this felt like a strange arranged marriage. Fucking in front of jellyfish to live-in boyfriend in a day. As much as he wanted Porsche’s eyes on him he hadn’t exactly been ready to committ.

“Do I at least get my own room?” Porsche asked but then his face did an odd thing. “No, of course I’ll be rooming with Kinn won’t I? From one annoying roommate to another…”

“You’ll work the details out with Kinn,” Father said baldly. It was a clear dismissal.

Khun left first, stopping in front of Kinn before he went. “Now you owe me another bodyguard,” he said. “I want Pete back.”

Porsche seemed inclined to linger, so Kinn grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room. Porsche pulled his wrist away when they got into the hallway and leaned against the wall. “Why didn’t you just send me away?” he asked.

Possessiveness flashed through Kinn. He put one hand on either side of Porsche, trapping him. “You’re mine,” he said.

Porsche bit his lip. “Maybe,” he said after a long moment. “But you heard your father- as soon as I want to I can leave.”

Kinn leaned in, pressed their cheeks together. “Then I guess I’ll have to make it so you don’t ever want to leave,” he whispered and suddenly this didn’t feel like an awkward arrangement, suddenly he had Porsche right where he wanted him and he could do whatever he wanted to to him.

He leaned forward and bit Porsche’s ear and Porsche gasped.

The door beside him slammed open. Kinn looked over to see Father standing there. “In your quarters, Kinn,” he ordered.

Porsche smirked at Kinn and grabed him by the hand and pulled him away.

Kinn would have thought he would have hated a live-in boyfriend, but in his imagination it would have been one of the boys from the escort service, always whining at him for presents and attention. Porsche didn’t really seem to care that much, though he had an uncanny sense for turning up when Kinn found himself particularly in the mood (several times a day).

When they weren’t not fucking, Porsche wandered around and got involved in things he probably had no business getting involved in. Kinn came across him laughing with the kitchen staff and helping the laundry maid hang out the clothes, training with the bodyguards sometimes, despite Big’s clear disapproval, or invading Khun’s rooms and talking him into doing things besides watching dramas. He’d even come across him playing chess with Father, though he had been miserable at it.

When they were fucking they’ were fucking. Porsche seemed up for almost everything Kinn could come up with and more. He was enthusiastic and passionate and joyful. Kinn was not sure he’d ever fucked anyone before who’d taken such joy in it. Afterward he liked to lie next to Kinn and trace lines on Kinn’s skin; Kinn’s old scars, Kinn’s tattooed circles, the ridges of Kinn’s spine, the veins that showed through his skin. He was kind and affectionate and Kinn thought to himself that he could get used to it, could let Porsche and Porsche’s smirk and Porsche’s easy manner and Porsche’s secret tender feelings squirm into his heart.

A month into it he smoothed Porsche’s hair back from his forehead and thought this is going so well.

Famous last words.

It happened when they were out. Porsche had wanted to go to the beach, so they’d gone to the beach, a private beach Kinn had booked for the afternoon, empty except for their bodyguards, all standing guard on the perimeter.

Empty enough that Kinn hadn’t felt any shame at fucking Porsche in the sand, skin wet and salty, Porsche’s body so taut and brown and beautiful in the light of the full afternoon sun.

They’d gone to the public area to get ice cream, and it should have been safe- no one should have known they were going to be there or had been able identify them, not with Kinn wearing Porsche’s street clothes, casual and unexceptionable in every way.

But somehow someone still spotted them and Kinn only realized it when the report of a gun caused the crowd around them to scream.

“Get down!” he shouted at Porsche, and expecting him to do exactly as he said, turned away, only to have a body collide with his and knock him down, the sharp edge of pain creasing the skin of his arm.

He looked up into Porsche’s eye. “What?” he asked, but there was already something warm trickling down his leg.

But how, but how, but how- his brain was repeating over and over. I told him to get down and he didn’t get down.

An ambulance came with an ear splitting siren. People were grabbing at him, talking to him. He tensed ready to fight but it was Chen and Big, peeling his hands off of Porsche.

They were speaking but he couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears.

I told him to get down but he didn’t get down.

A few stitches and the doctor released him to the waiting room where Big and Chen and, surprisingly, Khun and his bodyguards were waiting.

“Phi,” Kinn said.

“Oh, poor Kinn,” Khun said and shooed Arm away from him so Kinn could sit beside him and he could put his arm around his little brother.

“I told him to get down, but he didn’t get down,” Kinn said.

In the periphery of his vision he saw Pete stiffen, exchange looks with Arm.

Khun frowned. “He has the tattoo,” he said. “I’ve seen it.” He was silent for a long moment. “Have you given him orders before?”

“Yes,” Kinn said, but he couldn’t remember. “No? I try not to give them.”

“Will is like water,” Khun said. “If he wanted to protect you badly enough…”

“Do you think it’s possible?” Kinn asked.

Khun sniffed. “I dont know,” he said. “Why are you asking me? I’m not a mage.”

Kinn nodded. “Yeah, I’ll ask her when I get back.”

Porsche was asleep when Kinn was finally allowed to go into his room, his face ashen and drawn. Kinn sat down on the side of his bed and reached out to touch his face with the tips of his fingers, more tenderly than he’s ever touched anyone, brushing his bangs out of his face, tracing the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

He laid down beside Porsche, careful not to jostle him, close enough that he could see the down on Porsche’s cheek, the sweep of his black eyelashes, the tiny imperfections in his skin.

Why didn’t they tell you that love was a hunger so great it could never be satisfied, a pit of wanting that could never be filled? He had Porsche, had him inscribed with his marks, had him wanting Kinn back, had him matching Kinn beat for beat and yet Kinn still wanted more. He wanted to unhinge his jaw and swallow him whole like a snake and keep him safe in his belly. He wanted to tie him to the bed, chain him, weld him to his bed so he could never leave.

He wanted Porsche to be happy. As happy as he was with Porsche. He wanted Porsche to want to be with him as much as he wanted Porsche.

Porsche opened his eyes and looked at him and smiled.

“You’re staring at me like a stalker, Phi,” he whispered. “It’s kind of creepy.”

“You like it,” Kinn said.

Porsche smiled, slowly, languidly. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel?” Kinn asked.

“Ugh,” Porsche sighed. “Every thing hurts.” His face flickered. “You’re okay? You didn’t get hurt too badly?”

“Just a few stitches,” Kinn said. “I’ll have a sexy new scar.”

“Mmm,” Porsche said, grinning toothily. “I can’t wait to taste it. Did you catch him?”

Kinn nodded. “He’s in the holding cells.”

“I almost feel bad for him,” Porsche joked. “What about me? I can’t be dying- you’re smiling too much.”

“No,” Kinn said. “You’ll be out of action for a while.”

“What action?” Porsche asked. “I’m basically a whore, aren’t I? Does that mean you can’t fuck me any time soon?” He pouted, looking up at Kinn through his lashes.

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Kinn said, but then caught Porsche’s hand in his. “You’re gonna be on bed rest for a while is what I meant,” he said. “Limited mobility. I don’t care about fucking.”

Porsche raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, I do, but not as much as I care about you.”

“Wow,” Porsche said. “I did not have you pegged as the romantic type.”

“Shut up,” Kinn said, jokingly.

“You care about me more than fucking!” Porsche exclaimed. “I’m so lucky!”

Kinn’s mouth was suddenly dry.

“You’re not obedient,” Kinn said.

“What?” Porsche asked, confused.

“Yesterday, when I told you to get down you didn’t. And just now… I told you to shut up…”

“You didn’t mean it,” Porsche said.

But Kinn shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Your mark doesn’t work- why doesn’t it work?”

“Do you really care about that?” Porsche asked, sounding bewildered.

Kinn sat up, pulled away. “How did you do it?” he demanded.

“What?” Porsche asked.

“How did you keep from obeying my order!” Kinn nearly shouted.

“I didn’t!” Porsche protested. “I just didn’t even notice!”

“Did you ever?” Kinn asked. “Did you ever feel a compulsion?”

Porsche opened his mouth, then closed it, confused. “I don’t remember you ever giving me an order before,” he said. “You’re always so careful.”

“I told you to get down on your knees and open your mouth,” Kinn said.

“But… I wanted to,” Porsche said. He frowned. “I don’t know. Phi, P’Kinn… you have to believe me… I don’t know. Call… call the mage and ask her. She’ll… didn’t she say it was working? Please, P’Kinn…” he grabbed Kinn’s hand, tried to pull himself up, but winced and fell back down.

“Please,” he said. “Whatever you’re thinking…” he shook his head. “It’s not… I’m not… I’m just Porsche. Just your Porsche.”

Kinn closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against them. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I’ll…”

When he opened his eyes, Porsche was lying there, even more ashen than before, looking so small and hollowed. Kinn wanted to wrap him up in his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, but he just… didn’t know.

He couldn’t for one moment imagine Porsche betraying him but he’d been wrong before.

The tattoo-mage was still in her bed clothes when she arrived at the hospital, escorted by the men Kinn had sent to rouse her out of bed, grumbling.

“Little master,” she said when she saw Kinn. “You will owe me for this. You may have your threats dangling over my head, but I am not powerless.”

Kinn sighed. “You will be adequately compensated for your trouble,” he said.

“I’d better be,” the old woman muttered. She stumped to Porsche’s bedside. “What do you want? I can’t heal this with magic. Not injuries caused by iron and steel.”

“His obedience mark doesn’t work,” Kinn said.

“Hmm?” the old woman asked. “Let me see.”

Porsche rolled onto his belly with a grunt of pain. Kinn felt a twinge of guilt, but swallowed it down. The old woman pulled up the back of Porsche’s pyjamas and traced a finger over the mark.

“It’s stable,” she said. “It’s interwoven into his core. Give him an order.”

He contemplated Porsche, lying on the bed looking so helpless for a moment.

“Make a fist,” he said.

Porsche’s hand, lying on the bed beside him twitched but his fingers did not curl into a fist.

“Hmmm…” the tattoo-mage said. “Strange.” She pressed her hand flat against the mark. “Again.”

“Make a fist,” Kinn said again.

Porsche’s hand didn’t even move this time.

“It’s not obedience,” the old woman said. “But it’s something. He’s responding too…”

She looked at Kinn carefully. “What do you want?” she asked.

“What?” Kinn said.

“What do you want?” the old woman asked again. “From him. Be honest.”

His love, Kinn thought, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I want him to love me,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“I do love you, you asshole,” Porsche said.

“Ah,” the tattoo-mage said. “There it is.”

“There what is?” Kinn demanded.

“He doesn’t respond to your words, he responds to your desires.”

Kinn’s mouth went dry. He saw Porsche on his knees before him again, his mouth teasingly open. He felt Porsche press him against the jellyfish tank, he heard Porsche beg for him to fuck him.

“He wants… what I want?” Kinn asked, just beginning to be horrified.

“He wants what you want him to want,” the tattoo-mage said.

“But what about will?” Kinn asked. “You said it was like water, that it would always find a way.”

“I suppose,” she said. “If he was completely against your desire- if you wanted him to kill someone he loved, perhaps. But minor things…”

“Minor!” Kinn exclaimed. “Sex? Love?”

“Minor,” she said. She stood up and wrapped her dressing gown around herself more closely, with a great air of dignity.

“Wait!” Kinn begged. “There… there must be a way to stop it.”

The tattoo-mage snorted. “You know as well as I do that there’s no way to break a circle.” She stared at him for a long moment, then swept out of the room.

Kinn stared at her numbly.

“Phi,” Porsche said, too calmly.

Kinn looked at him.

Porsche held out his hand. “Phi.”

Kinn stumbled back a step and then another. “I brainwashed you,” he said. “I… I… you don’t want me.”

Porsche smiled a crooked smile up at him. “I feel like I do,” he said.

“Because I’m making you!” Kinn yelled.

“I want you like I want nothing else,” Porsche said. “Is that how you feel about me?”

Kinn found himself pressed against the wall. “You should hate me,” he said.

Porsche huffed out a laugh. “You don’t want me to.”

“I want you to!” Kinn said. “I want you to hate me! I want you to not want this.”

Porsche shook his head. “No you don’t. You want me to love you despite this. But I can’t prove I do.”

“You can’t know you do,” Kinn corrected.

Porsche shrugged, then winced. “Why does it matter?” he asked. “Why does it matter why I love you? Is any reason really a good one? Is loving you because of coercion really less valid than loving you because of neurochemistry? Or because you’re handsome and kind and very good at fucking? Shouldn’t it be the outcome that matters?”

“So you’re okay with being brainwashed?” Kinn demanded.

“I can’t really bring myself to care.” Porsche shrugged. “Maybe because of the brainwashing? I’ll never know, so I have a lot of trouble feeling like it matters. I’m just afraid you’re going to get all noble on me and send me away.”

“You’re afraid?!” Kinn exclaimed. “That’s what I should do!”

Porsche slumped down. “Yeah,” he said.

“I’ll… I’ll send you somewhere nice,” Kinn said. “Anywhere you want to go. America- you can go to America. You said you wanted to see New York. I’ll pay for you to go to college. And your brother- he can go with you. You’ll be safe there.”

Porsche closed his eyes. “I love you,” he said. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Because you’ve been brainwashed,” Kinn said.

A tear escaped Porsche’s eye, then another. “It doesn’t matter,” he said again. “I want you so much. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I don’t care where you send me, but can’t you just… Can’t you just make me stop wanting you? Want me to feel nothing.”

Kinn squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Porsche nodded.

“You’ll go?” Kinn asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Porsche said flatly. “Go or stay or whatever. You’ll never touch me again.”

He turned his head away from Kinn.

Kinn swallowed. “When you’re gone I’ll stop influencing you,” he said. “You’ll be able to recover. You’ll… you’ll find out you don’t love me.”

“Fine,” Porsche said. “Good. Good, I can’t wait to get you out of my head.”

Kinn couldn’t help the way that this twisted in his chest, the way he wanted desperately for Porsche not to have said those words.

“Just fucking go!” Porsche exclaimed. “Get out of here. If you’re going to leave me then don’t fucking draw it out! Go on, fuck off.”

Kinn nodded and left.

All of Porsche’s things were gone by the time Kinn got back home. He went to Khun’s rooms and sat beside him on his couch and watched the sound of his dramas wash over him. He didn’t feel the endless pain he’d expected to feel, just numb, like what was missing wasn’t Porsche but his entire heart, everything that gave him feelings, everything that made him human.

In the weeks and months that came and passed he was more cruel than he’d been before, people said. More cold. More distant. Food became tasteless and he’d forget to put on music, suddenly discovering that he’d been sitting in silence without thinking or moving for he didn’t know how long. He killed his cousin Vegas over something stupid, just stood up and shot him. He’d been conspiring against them, it turned out, but that hadn’t been why he’d done it. He just hadn’t been able to think of a reason not to.

They didn’t tell him how Porsche was doing beyond saying that he and his brother were safe. Somewhere- they didn’t even say where- attending college. He wondered what Porsche was studying, wondered if he was cold where he was, wondered if his English was good enough for his classes, wondered if people were mean to him because he was Thai. Wondered if he had gone back to the slut he had used to be, fucking girls so casually he didn’t even look for a bed to do it in.

Wondered what he thought about Kinn now that Kinn wasn’t there to influence him.

And then he shoved the wondering into the back of his brain and went to find someone else to hurt.

He didn’t count the days, not the months, and then not the years. Five years, enough for Kinn to get a reputation as the coldest bastard in Bangkok. Five years, enough for Porsche to finish whatever degree he’d ended up pursing.

Kinn didn’t ask. He’d keep funding Porsche. He’d fund him for the rest of his life. “Give him anything,” he had told his accountant, “and never ask me to sign off on it.”

Porsche could have been squandering Kinn’s wealth, could have been flying in private jets, could have bought his weight in diamonds and Kinn would only find out one day when his bank accounts ran dry.

He wouldn’t mind if they did, he thought. Maybe then he’d stop feeling guilty. Maybe then he’d feel anger instead of love.

Khun strutted into Kinn’s office one morning, far earlier than he was usually up. He sniffed disdainfully and then sat down.

Kinn raised his eyebrows at him.

“I have been asked to pass you a message,” Khun said, inspecting his fingernails. Kinn stiffened.

“He says ‘How long is long enough?’,” Khun said.

“Who?” Kinn asked, without meaning to.

Khun glanced up at him disdainfully.

“Long enough for what?”

Khun rolled his eyes and stood. “Ask him yourself,” he said.

“You know I can’t!” Kinn shouted.

Khun turned back. “You think our tattoo-mage is that good? Making magic that last for years and across thousands of miles? Call him, you asshole.”

Kinn gaped at him, watched him go, Pete turning at the door and giving him a sympathetic look that made Kinn want to throw something at him.

Kinn sat down again and only then noticed the bit of paper Khun had left behind. A phone number.

He didn’t know where in America Porchse was, if he was even still there. He did the math in his head. It was 9:30pm if he was in New York, 6:30pm if he was in LA. A perfectly reasonable time to call someone.

He could call. He’d been told to call. He’d been given a message to call.

He smoothed out the paper, took out his phone, walked out onto the balcony. It was early enough that it was still a little cool.

Five fucking years, he thought. He hadn’t forgotten Porsche. He sometimes dreamt about the first time he’d fucked him, everything turned blue from the light of the jellyfish tank. He’d wake hard and aching and not just in his prick.

And then he’d reminded himself that it was non-consensual, that Porsche never really wanted him, that his love was just magic mind control. He’d told himself that Porsche probably grew to hate him, when the magic faded. He’d told himself that everything he’d had with Porsche- Porsche’s smiles and his laughs, the way he gasped, the way he begged, everything had been a lie.

How long is long enough?

He could hope it meant what he wanted it to mean. He could hope that Porsche still wanted him even though the magic had faded. He could call the number Khun had given him and maybe Porsche would pick up and be glad to hear from him. Maybe Porsche would say ‘it wasn’t a lie, it turns out I cared about you even when you weren’t brainwashing me.’ Maybe Porsche would say ‘I want to be with you even thought it would mean letting you control me.’

Maybe Porsche just wanted to yell at him for what he had done, to tell him that he hated him, to tell him that he had raped him again and again and again.

It was that last thought that led him to make the call. Not for the hope but with the thought that if Porsche wanted to yell at him he deserved it.

He took a deep breath and entered the number on his phone, then held it to his ear, looking out at the morning city, the glass and steel of it, the blue-white sky, the cars and people so small so far below.

“Hello?” Porsche asked, in English. “Hello?” he asked again, after a long moment. “P’Kinn?”