Archive of Our Own

–

The car door shuts, and Joss exhales, long and loud, his head hitting the back of the car seat, his face settling into neutrality, the way he only ever seems to do around Gawin lately.

The overhead light slowly fades into darkness, the tinting on the windows dulling the bright lights outside from the stadium, muffling the noise of fans and staff and other vehicles.

Gawin sits there silently, looking at Joss. He notices the clench of Joss’s jaw, the tightness of his shoulders.

“I’m so tired,” Joss says eventually. “I feel like my soul is somewhere two weeks ago.”

Gawin huffs out a laugh. “I know, man. I feel the same. This was the last thing I wanted to be doing today. But it’s done now.”

Joss hums, and Gawin sighs, turning the car on, reaching for his seatbelt. He’d usually give Joss shit about his, but he just types his address into the GPS. He waves at P’Palm as he pulls away, following several other cars out of the lot, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he waits.

He glances over at Joss again and smiles -– Joss’s breathing has already evened out, his eyelashes long and dark against his tanned cheeks, the make-up somewhat viciously scrubbed off already.

They hadn’t figured out what they were going to do post-event -– Joss lives close to the GMM building, which was almost an hour away from the stadium, while Gawin is nearby in Lat Phrao, so he makes the executive decision that Joss is spending the night with him without thinking twice.

Mae and Dad are home, which may provide some awkwardness, but they both love Joss, and any teasing from his father will be good-natured. It is after midnight, so hopefully they’ll be asleep by the time they get there.

The drive home only takes fifteen minutes, and Joss has started that soft, rhythmic snoring he does when he’s in light sleep, so Gawin doesn’t feel too bad about killing the engine in the garage and reaching over to pat his shoulder.

“J? We’re here, time to wake up.”

Joss groans, rubbing his eyes, unfocused until he finds Gawin, hovering relatively close.

“Wh’s here?” he asks, looking around.

“My house. You’re spending the night here. Grab your bag, cutie,” Gawin says, the teasing pet name slipping before he can stop himself, and the smile that greets him makes him wonder if Joss has a thing for baby talk.

He retrieves his guitar and his own backpack, locking the car and removing his shoes at the side entry to the house, Joss following as he opens the door into darkness.

“I’m gonna warm up some leftovers, you hungry?” Gawin whispers as he turns the kitchen light on. Joss nods and sits at the table, slumped over, already half asleep again.

Gawin roots around in the fridge and finds chicken and rice that Mae made for dinner. Relatively sure their bedroom is far enough away from the kitchen, and he shouldn’t disturb them if he uses the microwave, he prepares the food while making electrolyte drinks for them both.

He loads Joss up with more chicken than rice and puts the plate down in front of his prone form, poking his arm. Joss forgets to eat when he’s stressed, and Gawin can all but guarantee he hasn’t eaten all day. “C’mon, J. Chicken time.”

Joss yawns, sitting up and picking up his spoon and fork.

“You okay? You seemed kind of… distant today,” Gawin asks, once Joss has had a few mouthfuls, careful not to sound like he’s prying. He’d been fine during the game, but Gawin had caught several moments where Joss seemed unhappy for the rest of the event. Lingering irritation at losing the basketball in his last year of playing, perhaps? Gawin wasn’t entirely sure…

He thinks for a moment Joss is going to brush it off, and resigns himself to pushing, but then Joss exhales, long and loud, his shoulders dropping.

“I’m still mad that Replay was cancelled.”

Ah, yes. Their ensemble series with P’Tay, P’New, Pond and Phuwin. Privately, Gawin is also pretty pissed off about it being cancelled. The company not conducting basic due diligence on its licenses to check for any controversies attached seems like the bare minimum.

They had been together at Kevin’s when P’Tha called them with the bad news, full of reassurances they’d be given another project just as interesting to sink their teeth into. At the time, Joss had just brushed it off, and they’d gone back out to rejoin the dinner, but it has obviously been bothering him.

“I know. Me too. I’m glad it was done before we got too invested, though,” Gawin says. Joss frowns.

“What if we don’t get another chance to do something cool like that, though?” he asks. “I’m 29. You’re 28.” The rest is left unsaid, but Gawin hears him loud and clear. It costs Joss a lot to admit that -- not the type to show that sort of emotional weakness to just anyone. Gawin feels warmed that he’s comfortable enough to do that with him.

“And? It’s not like GMMTV gives a shit about that anymore. P’Off and P’Gun are still getting amazing projects. Same with P’Tay and P’New. There’s a decent amount of guys older than us that’re still working. Don’t stress, Joss. We’ll hear them out next week and get something else cool to work on. We’ve got a huge year coming.”

It’s the most he’s spoken in a while, and Joss looks at him, slightly incredulous, but he nods and looks back at his food. He gets like this sometimes, stuck on something and needs to vent about it so he can process and move on.

“Thank you,” Joss rumbles once they’re done, taking the plates and getting up, dumping the bones in the bin and putting them in the dishwasher. He drains his glass and fumbles around in his bag for his drink bottle, while Gawin fills them up, knowing they’ll wake up thirsty during the night.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re gonna be okay. We’ll be together,” Gawin says, reaching out to squeeze his bicep, fingers curling around the muscle. He realises how intimate that sounds as soon as the words leave his mouth, almost blushing and going to pull away, but Joss’s smile is small and shy in response, and he leaves his hand there.

“My room is downstairs,” Gawin says, pointing to the lounge where the stairs are to his room, unsure if Joss will remember from last time he was here.

“I know,” Joss says, and picks up Gawin’s bag and pads off, his large shoulders cutting a visual that makes something low and insistent curl in his gut.

It’s that same heat he’s been feeling for a while, whenever Joss’s hand finds its home on his lower back, or when Joss hands him a drink, or a jacket, or a painkiller. That same pull whenever Joss’s dimple shows up just for him.

“Fuck,” he sighs, rubbing his face, as he does some last-minute tidying of the kitchen and turns off the light, following Joss to his room.

He’s pretty sure it’s relatively clean, and definitely thankful he changed the sheets that morning, as part of his weekly reset. There’s sheet music on the floor, and some clothes he washed and hasn’t put away yet, and definitely a few days' worth of plates and cups stacked on his desk; he’s a little embarrassed about it.

However, Joss is in his ensuite, the shower running, with the door cracked to let the steam out because his exhaust fan is broken and he keeps forgetting to tell his dad about it.

How the fuck did he remember that… Gawin says to himself, before rolling his eyes. It’s Joss, of course, he remembers. He remembers everything Gawin says, ever. His way of showing love is being attentive, of acts of service, of his time and energy.

Gawin is unsure of his way of showing love. Teasing. Disappearing for days on end. Being awkward.

He can hear Joss’s disapproving rumble as he self-flagellates.

“Don’t be unkind to yourself. You wouldn’t say this kind of shit to me, so why is it okay to say it to yourself?”

Gawin sits on the edge of his bed, eyes closed, as Joss appears in his mind, dressed in a tank top and shorts, tube socks on his feet, hair fluffy and eyes even more sleepy than usual. He looks adorable, and annoyed Gawin is being mean to himself.

“You show love with your time and energy as well. Your teasing keeps me from being too intense. You’re a bridge between me and everyone. You love me the best.”

That last bit makes Gawin choke a little, the honesty of his subconscious a little too much for now. His fingers curl in his sheets, breath hitching.

He hears the shower shut off and wonders if Joss found the spare towels, or if Gawin’s fluffy blue one is currently getting acquainted with Joss’s traps, delts and glutes… quads… ass… and more…

“You’re fucked,” Gawin hisses at himself, coughing, standing up and moving to his closet to find some pajamas.

By the time Joss emerges in a cloud of steam, rubbing his hair with a decidedly not blue towel, Gawin is contemplating sleeping on the couch upstairs.

“I found the towels,” Joss says, and Gawin pokes his head out of the closet, smiling.

“Awesome. My hair dryer is on the desk. I’m gonna jump in and quickly shower. We’ll go to bed soon,” Gawin says, hustling past him, holding his clothes in front of him, trying not to do something stupid as he inhales Joss smelling like his shampoo and his peach-scented bodywash.

“So fucked,” he repeats to himself, stripping off and getting in the shower, willing away his half-chub by thoughts of P’Tha having sex well and truly doing the job.

He gets out and towels off, changing into an old sleep shirt and shorts, padding out to see Joss sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone, hair dry, towel around his neck.

Gawin wanders past, and Joss looks up as he grabs the hair dryer. “Bring it here, I’ll help,” Joss says. Gawin huffs out a laugh.

“I can do it,” he says. Joss shrugs.

“I know you can, but I’m here. I can help.”

Gawin’s moving to the bed with the hairdryer before he even fucking realises what’s going on, Joss plugging it in to the powerboard by his bed, and Gawin settling between his legs. He leans back, a hand coming to wrap around Joss’s ankle by habit, without asking, without thinking, and his eyes flutter closed as the hairdryer turns on.

The way Joss feels on his back, solid and sure, sends Gawin somewhere else, and he floats as Joss rakes his hands through his hair, keeping the hot air off his face and neck.

When Joss finishes, the hair dryer turning off, Gawin can’t help but let out a little disgruntled noise, which makes Joss giggle.

“I’ll pet your hair when we go to sleep,” he says, voice low.

Gawin goes to joke, say something like, “Alright then, Khun Mae,” but it gets stuck in his throat.

“You okay to share?” he asks instead, hoping he already knows the answer. Joss just scootches back, plugging his phone in to charge, while Gawin watches.

His chest aches a little at the visual, and he’s struck with the knowledge that only a handful of people have gotten to see Joss intimately like this, and none of them in this way. Exhausted, his tank empty from the event, freshly showered, and ready for a solid eight hours.

“What?” Joss asks, looking at Gawin silently spiralling. Is this what it’s like to realise you’re in the good old days as they’re happening? Gawin wonders, as Joss moves to the left side of the bed, somehow remembering Gawin likes the right and being against the wall.

Gawin desperately wants to crack some kind of joke to create some distance from these emotions, but it feels wrong. So he doesn’t. Maybe it’s the tiredness of months of non-stop after years of sporadic work, or maybe it’s his heart making itself known, but he opens his mouth and says, “Just admiring you finally in my bed again.”

Joss blinks at him, and Gawin’s mouth snaps shut, and they stare at each other for a beat or two, the air thickening between them. Fear laces through Gawin’s veins. Did I read this wrong?

JossGawin may be awkward about fan service, introverted and quiet amongst a sea of insane extroverts, but they have chemistry in fucking spades, and the way the tension is building makes Gawin think that maybe it’s not just him in this. Whatever the fuck this is.

“Come to bed, G,” Joss finally says, voice rough.

Gawin nods, one knee placed on the bed, the other joining in as he gets up and goes to move across Joss. He’s not sure if Joss grabs him first or he loses his balance -- either way, he ends up straddling Joss’s lap, his hands landing on Joss’s shoulders.

“Shit, sorry,” Gawin breathes, decidedly not sorry. His heartbeat is thundering in his chest, so loudly he’s sure Joss can hear.

“Don’t apologise,” Joss says just as quietly, staring up at him.

Gawin doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe. Joss’s hands come to settle on his hips, like he’s anchoring him, and the pressure sends a tremor racing up Gawin’s spine.

For a moment, they just stare at each other -- long enough for every stupid joke, every late night, every brush of fingers and almost-touch to roar to the surface. Joss licks his lips, gaze flicking down to Gawin’s mouth, Gawin following him, and that tiny movement punches the air right out of him.

“G,” Joss murmurs, voice rougher now, “look at me.”

Gawin’s eyes snap up. He meets Joss’s gaze, and the tension is thick, the weight of their history heavy around them.

Joss’ thumbs stroke slow circles over the jut of his hipbones -- steady, and tethered. “Is this okay?” he asks, quiet but with his usual brand of seriousness. “Us. Like this.”

Gawin swallows, pulse stuttering. He feels ridiculous and unbelievably alive at the same time, sitting on Joss in nothing but a thin shirt and worn shorts.

“It really is,” he whispers. “More than okay.”

Something in Joss gives way. His grip pulls Gawin an inch closer, enough that their chests touch, enough that Gawin feels the burn of him everywhere.

“Can I kiss you?” Joss asks next, low and reverent, like the question itself is an offering.

Gawin’s laugh breaks on a breath, shaky and stunned. “You’re really asking?”

“Yes.” Joss’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I need you to want it.” The corners of his mouth downturn a little, a furrow appearing in between his brows. His thumb strokes along Gawin’s overheated skin.

Gawin leans in, noses brushing, sharing the same breath. “I do.”

Joss smiles at the line and finally lifts his chin that last fraction and kisses him. It’s slow and devastatingly tender, like he has all night to learn the shape of Gawin’s mouth.

They kiss again, and again, Joss’s tongue licking at the seams of Gawin’s mouth, Gawin firmly on his lap now, and able to feel the thickening under his ass. Joss’s hands roam along his back and sides before slipping under the fabric, splaying long fingers and calloused palms along his shoulder blades, his ribs, and down to the dip of his back.

“Off?” Joss asks, as Gawin pulls back for air. Gawin nods, desperate to feel Joss, and tugs off his shirt, Joss’s joining his on the floor. He’s seen Joss shirtless so many times it shouldn’t even register for him now, but God, if he isn’t a perfect specimen. Gawin’s hands come to smooth along Joss’s pecs, squeezing, before he ducks in to kiss him again, needing it.

Joss cups the back of his thighs, pulling him in closer, and Gawin can’t help but grinds down, precome leaking steadily in his boxers, Joss’s hard length right there.

Gawin sighs into Joss’s mouth as their chests press together, his nipples sliding against Joss’s, sending sparks up and down his spine. He tangles his hands in Joss’s hair, silky smooth, holding him still so he can plunder and own. Finally.

There’s a moment where Joss goes to move his head as Gawin moves the same way and their teeth bump together, Gawin snorting with laughter.

Joss sighs, his dimple flashing with amusement.

“You okay?” Joss asks, as Gawin pulls back slightly.

He nods.

“You okay?” Gawin asks, a hand on Joss’s face, thumb by his bottom lip. Joss looks up at him, his eyes doe soft, and Gawin melts.

“I am,” he says.

Gawin leans in and kisses down the curve of Joss’s neck, tongue slow, and Joss gasps, the noise cutting through the silent night air, as Gawin’s mouth trails further down, moving along his throat and to his chest. Gawin pushes Joss back, so he’s against the bedhead, and he has easy access to those fucking nipples.

“You tease with these so much,” Gawin says, sucking on the left one, as Joss writhes underneath him, tangling his fingers in Gawin’s hair and pulling.

“W-what? How can I tease?” Joss fumbles, and Gawin gently rolls the nub between his teeth, sucking hard. “Ah!”

“In those fucking tight shirts you insist on wearing. Sticking out for me to see. Couldn’t touch for years… not till now,” Gawin says, looking up at Joss, pleasantly surprised at how wrecked he seems.

Joss's cheeks are stained red, sweat beading at his hairline, and his pupils are blown right out, heavy with pleasure, lips swollen and slick with saliva.

“I-I didn’t-- I mean--” Joss stumbles, off balance, and Gawin is like a predator, chasing him down, refusing to give an inch.

“You knew what you were doing. Seducing me. Wanting me watching you,” Gawin continues, nosing along Joss’s jaw, breathing him in, dropping open-mouthed, wet kisses as he goes.

Joss moans, eyes fluttering closed. “Admit it,” Gawin whispers, biting down, gentle as not to leave a mark, but hard enough for Joss to feel it.

He swallows, the sound loud in the stillness of the night.

“I… I liked you watching me. It made me feel good,” he finally admits.

“Made, or make? Past or present?” Gawin pushes.

Joss’s eyes open, and they meet him. “Present. It makes me feel good.”

“Ah, okay. You like it when I watch you. How about when I touch you?” Gawin continues, grinding down, making Joss gasp, fingers digging into Gawin’s thighs.

“Yeah,” Joss says, and Gawin does it again, fingers coming to pinch at his nipples, while he sucks down low on his neck, near the collarbone.

Joss whines, high in his throat, at Gawin’s ministrations. “Need off,” he says, and Gawin sits up, his face close to Joss’s.

“What?” he asks, smiling. Joss is seemingly losing his ability to speak English.

He frowns. “Pants need to come off,” he says in Thai, and Gawin shakes his head.

“English tonight. You’re always on me about wanting to speak more. Now’s the time, bud.”

Joss groans, palming his eyes, making Gawin laugh.

“Fine. Pants to come off, please,” he says, pouting up at Gawin, making him cluck his tongue.

He struggles to get off Joss’s lap, almost falling over twice, fingers slipping on the silky material of his pants. “I can’t even get them off,” Gawin laughs breathlessly.

“Be gentle, I’m old,” Joss teases back. Gawin scoffs.

“I’m a year younger than you, and I’m not old, so neither are you,” he says, finally tugging Joss’s pants off, his shorts joining them on the floor. Joss is in black briefs, tenting with his pleasure, and Gawin’s no better in his tighty whities.

Joss moves to him this time, kissing him, laying Gawin down on the bed and blanketing him.

It feels amazing, the weight and pressure of Joss’s body surrounding him. “Fuck,” Gawin gets out as Joss pulls away from his mouth, moving to kiss and lick his way around Gawin’s neck and shoulders.

What began as Gawin focused on Joss’s pleasure and body has quickly turned, and Joss is like a man starved, his fingers wrapped around Gawin’s wrists as he sucks kisses into every inch of his chest and stomach, nosing underneath his belly button, biting at the elastic band of his underwear.

“Okay?” he asks, muffled slightly, the fabric between his teeth as he looks up at Gawin.

“Fuck yeah,” Gawin breathes, and Joss grins, pulling the briefs down, Gawin’s cock springing forth. He grabs it to ease some of the pressure, jerking a few times, sighing happily.

Joss grins and licks a hot stripe up his cock, Gawin’s head dropping back on the bed, trying not to swear too loudly.

“Joss-- warn a guy next time!” he says in a strangled tone. Joss just continues to suck him down, his entire world narrowing to warmwetsoaked and the pornographic sounds of Joss’s suction around him.

Gawin has to keep looking, even though it makes his balls tight with the need to come every time he does. “The fact that Joss is here -- mouth hot and sure around him -- is so astounding it almost knocks the air out of his lungs.

“F-fuck,” Gawin stammers, and Joss looks up at him, the slick pop of Gawin’s cock freeing itself from his mouth almost enough to put him over the edge.

“I need you in me,” Gawin says. Joss blinks.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t know that was going to be an option tonight,” he says.

Gawin frowns. “Do you… I mean, we don’t have to, if it’s too soon or whatever,” he says. Joss shakes his head vigorously.

“No! No, it’s fine, I just… hmm, maybe you want to see mine before you ask me to be inside you,” Joss says sheepishly.

Gawin snorts. “What, you packing a full ten inches in there, big man?” he asks, and Joss turns red.

“I mean, not ten… but probably bigger than you’re used to,” he mumbles, thumb hooking in the waistband of his briefs.

“Slow,” Gawin says, hand on Joss’s abs. “Go slow.”

“Take them off with your teeth,” Joss says, and Gawin scrambles to comply, carefully biting and tugging down.

Inch by inch, Joss’s cock is revealed, a soft dusting of hair at the base, and yes-- well. He’s definitely bigger than anyone Gawin’s had before. An easy six inches, if not a little more, and decently thick. He's uncut, precome leaking from the tip, soaked from all the stimulation.

Gawin gets his mouth on it, the salt flooding his tongue, and he sucks, wondering if he’s got lube left in one of the drawers.

Fuck, I hope so, otherwise it’s moisturiser, and that’s really not the nicest…

Joss taps his jaw after a minute, breathing hard. “Lube?” he asks, dropping to his knees, straddling Gawin’s lap.

Gawin points at the bedside, and Joss leans over, his ass on display, Gawin’s hand groping it, relishing the feel of the hard muscle in his palm, and how perfectly it fits.

Joss returns with his trusty bottle of Astroglide, and Gawin scoots forward, lying his head on a pillow, propping another one underneath his hips, Joss moving with him, coating two fingers and circling Gawin’s hole.

He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, the first finger always the most uncomfortable. But then Joss’s lips encircle his left ballsack, and he gasps, as Joss uses the distraction to sink a long, thick finger inside, right to the knuckle.

“Fuck--” Gawin moans, fisting his pillow, and Joss hums around him, nosing at the base of his cock. It’s so fucking hot, Joss is so fucking hot, he can barely watch, but he has to. He has to see this happening, has to know it’s real, that they are real. Together.

“Don’t stop touching me,” Gawin says.

“Don’t look away from me,” Joss replies.

Joss gets four fingers in by the time Gawin’s panting and writhing underneath him, fingers scrabbling at his hair, ears, his wide, solid shoulders, nails digging in as Joss curls and makes Gawin choke out his name.

“Joss-- uhn-- I can’t-- I need you--” Gawin begs, and Joss nods.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says.

Gawin blinks up at him, eyelashes wet. “You’re unreal,” he says, and Joss smiles, leaning down to kiss him, deep and lush.

“You’re every fantasy I’ve ever had come true,” Joss responds. Gawin groans, wrapping his arms around Joss’s shoulders, hitching a leg over his hip.

“Get inside me. Now.”

Joss nods, leaning over Gawin, a hand tucked in the dip of his knee, bending him upwards, his cockhead pressing against Gawin’s hole.

“Okay?” Joss asks, and Gawin nods, guiding him down to kiss him.

“Okay. Please.”

Joss bites his lip as he presses inside, Gawin moaning at the stretch, the fullness that pervades as Joss pushes in deeper and deeper, his own bitten off gasps and moans adding to Gawin’s pleasure, knowing it’s him making Joss feel like that.

“Fuck, wow,” he says, once Joss is fully seated, chest heaving. “Holy shit. Wow.”

Joss huffs out a laugh, spreading his hips, Gawin’s legs moving with him.

Gawin squeezes down on Joss, making him close his eyes, head dropping. “You feel amazing.”

“You too,” Joss says earnestly, and Gawin tries not to laugh. He’s so cute.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Gawin says, drawing him closer, kissing him over and over, the sound of their skin slapping together, of Joss’s hips meeting Gawin’s ass.

He hits the right angle after a few strokes and makes Gawin gasp, lighting up his prostate.

“Ah-- fuck-- right there,” Gawin’s litany falls out of him, unstoppable, Joss’s weight on top of him, their sweaty skin sliding together, their sounds and kisses all too much.

Joss moves slowly, deliberately, like he’s aware of every sound Gawin makes, every shudder that runs through him when he presses deeper, fuller. It’s overwhelming in the best way -- warmth spreading low and deep, coiling tight and bright in his belly.

Gawin clutches at him, fingers digging into sweat-slick skin, holding on so he doesn’t drift.

“Oh--” He breaks off on a breath, the sound half a laugh, half a wrecked little noise he doesn’t recognise as his own.

Joss stills just enough to feel it, forehead dropping to Gawin’s shoulder. Not stopping. Never stopping. Just… there.

“Hey,” Joss murmurs, holding him in place. “You with me?”

Gawin nods, a little too fast, chest heaving. He turns his face into Joss’s neck, breathing him in like oxygen. It’s too much -- the closeness, the weight of him, the way this feels like something he’s been waiting for without ever letting himself name it.

“I was scared,” he says suddenly, the words tumbling out before he can second-guess them. His voice shakes, raw and honest in a way that surprises even him. “I didn’t know how to want this if it was just me.”

Joss exhales, slow and deep, his arms tightening around Gawin like a promise. He shifts, presses closer, the movement careful, like he’s saying I’m here with his whole body.

“You weren’t,” Joss says quietly. There’s no hesitation in it. No doubt. “You were never alone in this.”

Gawin swallows hard, his grip tightening, the feeling inside him blooming hotter, brighter. “I thought I was,” he admits, almost embarrassed by how much it still hurts to say. “I thought maybe I’d just… made it all up.”

Joss lifts his head then, just enough to look at him properly. His expression is open, earnest, a little wrecked in a way Gawin’s never seen before. He leans in, presses a kiss to Gawin’s temple, his cheek, his mouth -- slow, grounding, and real.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Joss murmurs. “I just didn’t know how to say it without ruining everything.”

Something in Gawin loosens at that, the tension in his chest easing even as the heat inside him stays fierce and alive. It clicks into place all at once -- the rides home, food, hands always at his back, bringing him into his circle, late-night phone calls, the way Joss always stays.

None of this is new. It’s just finally out in the open.

He pulls Joss back down into another kiss, deeper this time, surer. Whatever was frantic in him settles, turning molten yet grounded, something that holds instead of burns out. Joss moves with him, unhurried, every touch intentional now -- like they’ve both decided, silently, that this is something worth taking their time with.

Gawin breathes his name like it’s already been his favourite word for years.

The tension builds until it feels like Gawin might split apart from it, every nerve lit and screaming, the pleasure overwhelming, his orgasm building low in his gut, making him tingle all over. Joss keeps moving with him, unhurried but relentless, like he’s guiding them somewhere inevitable.

“Now, baby,” Joss murmurs, mouth brushing Gawin’s temple. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

The words hit something primal and unguarded. Gawin clutches at him, the last of his restraint shattering as his orgasm crashes through him, leaving him trembling and wrecked.

Joss follows him over a heartbeat later, voice breaking as he empties deep inside, staying inside him, still holding him, keeping them together through the aftermath.

When it’s over, Joss doesn’t pull away. He presses a kiss to Gawin’s shoulder, his cheek, grounding him with touch and warmth, like he’s sealing something between them -- not temporary, not borrowed, but claimed in the quietest, most certain way.

Joss keeps his arms around him until the shaking fades, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles like he’s memorising the moment.

“You okay?” he murmurs, softer now. Gawin nods, still breathless, still stunned.

“Yeah. Fuck. Wow.”

Joss laughs and pulls out slowly, up on his haunches. His cock is slick from the lube and come, wet with it, and he winces.

“We didn’t use a condom. I’m sorry-- I didn’t--” he starts.

“It’s okay. I trust you. I’m clean.” Gawin smiles up at him and feels filled, used, and owned, in the best possible way.

“Me too.” Joss leans in for one final kiss before padding off to the bathroom to come back with a wet washcloth, wiping Gawin down and himself.

“I’m so happy,” Joss sighs as they settle down into the plunging darkness of Gawin’s room.

Gawin presses closer, fitting himself there without thinking.

“Me too.”

**

The buzzing of his phone against his watch wakes Gawin, the rhythmic hum of it stirring him to reality.

Joss is against the wall, having passed out once they took another quick shower and swapped a steamy blow job, and Joss pressed against the tiles while Gawin ate him out, the need beyond overwhelming.

He fumbles for it, bringing it to his ear. “H’lo?”

“Hello son, sawadee krap. Good morning. Mae made a big breakfast to celebrate your Starlympics last night. Bring Joss with you, okay?” his father’s chirpy voice floats across the line. Gawin frowns.

“How did you know he was here?” he asks, voice cracking.

“There’s a pair of Birks next to your sneakers that’re bigger than your flipper feet, and you’d only let one person leave their shoes there like that, so it wasn’t a hard guess. Call me Sherlock Holmes.”

Gawin groans and hangs up, dropping his phone onto his bed. He rolls onto his back, meeting a wall of sleep-warm skin, snuffling in his sleep.

“Joss,” Gawin croaks, his vision still blurry. Joss is buried under the duvet, wrapped around Gawin, their limbs tangled. “Joss, wake up. My parents know you’re here, and they want you to have breakfast with them.”

Gawin watches as Joss rubs his eyes, easing into wakefulness.

“They know I’m here?” he rasps. Gawin nods.

“Saw your shoes.”

Joss yawns. “I’m too tired to be impressive,” he says, and Gawin laughs.

“You gotta pull it together, Khun Way-Ar, if you’re gonna meet the parents for the first time.”

Joss blinks at him, processing. “Meet… the parents? I’ve met your parents multiple times already, haven’t I?”

Gawin nods, rolling into him, wrapping his arms around Joss, kissing him despite the morning breath.

“You have, but this is the first time you’re meeting them as more than just my couple partner.”

Joss smiles at him. “More, huh?”

Gawin nods, kissing him once more before letting go, heading into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth, Joss, not far behind.

Once upstairs, dressed and somewhat decent, Joss is all smiles and krap Khun Mae while shaking hands with Gawin’s dad and asking about the basketball scores from last night.

Mae serves Joss bacon and eggs, giving him a decent helping, fussing over him as she goes. Once she’s sure he’s taken care of, she picks up the pancakes for Gawin, sliding a few on his plate.

“I see how it is,” he grumbles, and she smiles at Joss.

“He’s a growing boy,” she says.

“And I’m not?” Gawin demands, as she laughs. He picks up the coffee pot and pours them both a cup, knowing they’ll need it.

“You sleep alright?” Dad asks Joss, tone easy. Then, to Gawin, “He looks more rested than he did on stream last night.”

Gawin chokes a little on his coffee, having chosen that moment to take a drink, and Mae smacks his arm, clucking her tongue. He just grins, and Joss flushes, his cheeks dusting with pink.

“So how was Starlympics for you both?” Mae asks, once Joss has housed his serve and gone back for seconds, and Gawin’s on his third pancake.

“It was okay. We lost… Marc got an insane buzzer beater,” Gawin says, reaching for his coffee.

“We had the stream up, it went for so long. You two must be exhausted,” Dad says. Gawin nods, looking at Joss, who is putting on a good front but is probably two minutes away from faceplanting in his food.

“We are. We’ll probably go back to sleep after this,” Gawin says. Mae and Dad share a look, and Joss puts a hand on Gawin’s thigh under the table, squeezing once in gratefulness.

Dad’s eyes flick down for half a second, then back up again. He takes another sip of tea, expression unreadable -- but pointedly says nothing.

They finish breakfast and help clear the table, Mae waving them away once the dishes are stacked. “Sleep well,” she says, as she presses a container of leftovers into Joss’s hands. “For later,” she says, smiling. “You boys don’t eat enough when you’re busy.”

“Thank you, Khun Mae,” Joss says, giving her a wai, and she bundles him into a hug, patting Gawin’s cheek after. They head to the stairs, Gawin already a few steps down when he hears it.

“Hey, Joss,” Dad calls.

Joss turns from the top step. “Yes, Khun Por?”

“You’re always welcome here. Just… don’t steal my son’s blankets too much. He runs cold.”

Joss smiles shyly and nods. “Of course. I’ll keep him warm.”

Gawin groans, hiding his face and continuing downstairs, Joss hot on his heels, shuffling after him as they collapse into bed together.

“They totally clocked us,” Joss rumbles as he wraps around Gawin like a big muscled octopus, the air conditioner blowing cold air across their faces and exposed limbs.

“Mm. But they’re cool. Dad will probably have some kind of Talk with you at some point.” Gawin yawns, and Joss smiles, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

“I look forward to it. We’ll figure this out together.”

Gawin hums in agreement, already half asleep, content and dreaming.