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The neon lights of Silom were a blur of pink and blue, reflected in the puddles that drenched every inch of the pavement. Joss was in his element, shirt clinging to his chest, hair slicked back with a mix of water and sweat, and a water gun strapped to his back like a tactical weapon.
The "party vibes" were at an all-time high. His friends were shouting over the EDM bass, dragging him into the middle of a dancing crowd where the ice-cold water felt like a blessing against the humid April night.
Around 11:30 PM, Joss’s waterproof phone case buzzed against his chest. He wiped a stray splash of water from his eyes and squinted at the screen.
Gawin: Just landed at Suvarnabhumi. Flight got moved up.
Gawin: Where are you? I’m heading to the condo.
Joss froze. The "bad boy of Songkran" persona evaporated instantly. Gawin wasn't supposed to be back from Singapore until tomorrow afternoon.
"Guys, I gotta go!" Joss yelled over the music, already stumbling toward the edge of the crowd.
"What? It's not even midnight!" his friend shouted back, phone in hand, recording a video for an IG story, capturing Joss in the background laughing as a group of revelers splashed him.
Joss didn't even bother drying off properly. He caught a bike taxi, the wind chilling his wet skin, and sprinted up the elevator of their condo. He burst through the door, dripping onto the pristine hardwood floor.
"Babe? G?"
The living room was dim, illuminated only by the blue light of Gawin's phone. Gawin was sitting on the sofa, still in his travel hoodie, his suitcase abandoned by the door. He didn't look up.
Joss approached cautiously, smelling like chlorine and expensive cologne. "You’re home early! I was going to pick you up tomorrow, I—"
"I can see exactly where you were," Gawin interrupted. His voice was low, rhythmic, and dangerous.
Gawin finally turned the phone screen toward Joss. He was scrolling through their mutual friends' Instagram stories.
Story 1: Joss laughing while a guy in a tank top pours a bucket of ice water over his shoulders.
Story 2: A group selfie where a girl is leaning a bit too close to Joss’s arm, her hand resting on his damp chest.
Story 3: A slow-mo video of Joss dancing, looking entirely too attractive for his own good.
Gawin’s lips were pulled into a heavy, dramatic pout, his eyes narrowed. "You seemed to be having a lot of fun. Lots of... friends around. Very crowded. Very wet."
"G, it was just the festival—" Joss started, reaching out.
"Don't," Gawin muttered, though he didn't pull away when Joss stepped into his space. "You're soaking wet and you smell like a street party. Go shower. And maybe delete your tagged photos while you're at it."
Joss couldn't help it; he leaned down, hovering just inches from Gawin’s grumpy face. "Are you jealous, G?"
"I’m tired from my flight," Gawin lied poorly, his pout deepening as he looked at Joss’s messy hair. "And I don't like people touching what's mine when I'm in another country."
Joss grinned, the "party" officially forgotten. "I'm all yours now. Give me ten minutes to get clean, and I'll prove it."
Joss doesn't just take a shower; he scrubs off every trace of the street party until he smells like the expensive soap Gawin bought him. He emerges from the bathroom in nothing but low-slung sweatpants, towel-drying his hair as he walks back into the living room.
Gawin is still on the couch, though he’s changed into a comfortable oversized shirt. He’s pretending to be engrossed in his phone, but the way his thumb isn't actually moving gives him away.
Joss drops the towel and sinks onto the floor between Gawin’s legs, leaning his back against the sofa. He reaches up, taking the phone out of Gawin’s hands and placing it face down on the coffee table.
"Look at me," Joss murmurs.
Gawin tries to keep the "angy" face on, but as Joss takes his hands and places them on his own shoulders—still warm and damp from the shower—the tension starts to bleed out. Joss guides Gawin’s hands to his chest, right where that girl had been leaning in the IG story.
"No one was actually there, Win. I was just waiting for tomorrow to come faster so I could see you."
To really settle the score, Joss pulls out his own phone. He opens his IG settings and, right in front of Gawin’s eyes, toggles his "Tagging" permissions to 'Manual Approval Only.' "There," Joss says with a playful wink. "Now I can ghost every photo that doesn't have you in it. Satisfied?"
Joss turns around, kneeling up so he’s eye-level with Gawin. He tucks a strand of Gawin's hair behind his ear, his thumb lingering on that pouty lower lip until it finally softens.
"You had a long flight," Joss whispers, his voice dropping an octave. "Your shoulders are tense. How about I make you forget about those stories? I’ll give you a massage, we can order that late-night soup you like, and I won't leave this room until you're convinced I didn't even notice anyone else was at that party."
Gawin finally cracks a tiny, reluctant smile, reaching out to grab the back of Joss’s neck to pull him closer.
"You're lucky you're cute when you're trying to apologize," Gawin mutters against his lips.
"I'm not apologizing for the party," Joss chuckles, closing the distance. "I'm just making up for lost time."
The kiss that follows is slow a deliberate, lingering thing that tastes like forgiveness and late-night honesty. Joss lets his hands rest on Gawin’s waist, feeling the way the other man finally exhales, the stiffness leaving his shoulders as he melts into the contact.
"Making up for lost time, huh?" Gawin whispers, his voice dropping an octave as they pull apart just enough to breathe the same air. "That sounds like a long-term project."
"I'm a very dedicated worker," Joss murmurs, pressing a final, chaste peck to Gawin’s nose before stepping back. The playful glint is back in his eyes, but it’s tempered with a newfound focus. He doesn't go far, just enough to break the gravity of the moment so he can reset the atmosphere of the entire suite.
He moves with a quiet, practiced confidence, shedding the chaos of the party outside the door. He wants Gawin to forget the noise, the crowds, and the misunderstandings. He wants him to feel, quite literally, at home.
Joss didn't just walk back into the room; he set the stage. He dimmed the main lights, leaving only the warm, amber glow of the floor lamp, and grabbed a bottle of scented oil from the bathroom.
He found Gawin still slumped on the sofa, looking small in his oversized shirt, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the TV, though he wasn't actually watching it.
Joss sat behind him, the sofa cushions dipping under his weight. "Move over, babe. You’ve been sitting in a cramped airplane seat for hours. Let me."
"I'm fine," Gawin muttered, though he didn't move away when Joss’s large, warm hands settled on the base of his neck.
"You're not fine. You're a giant knot of stress," Joss whispered. He poured a bit of oil into his palms, rubbing them together to warm it up. The scent of lemongrass and ginger—Gawin’s favorite—began to fill the small space between them.
As Joss began to knead the tension out of Gawin’s shoulders, the silence in the room changed. It went from tense and frosty to heavy and quiet. Joss used his thumbs to trace the line of Gawin's spine, applying just the right amount of pressure. Gawin let out a soft, involuntary huff of air. His head tilted forward, exposing the nape of his neck.
"Better?" Joss asked, his voice vibrating against Gawin's back.
"A little," Gawin admitted, his voice losing its sharp edge. He closed his eyes, his "angy" pout finally softening as Joss’s hands moved with practiced slow rhythm. Joss leaned closer, his chest pressing against Gawin's back, his breath warm against Gawin's ear. "I really missed you, you know. Songkran is boring when I’m just looking for your face in the crowd."
Gawin turned his head slightly, his eyes fluttering open. The jealousy was fading, replaced by that familiar, magnetic pull. He reached back, his fingers tangling in Joss’s still-damp hair.
The massage slowed. The pressure of Joss’s hands shifted from therapeutic to something much more intentional. He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below Gawin’s ear—
DING-DONG!
The doorbell shrieked through the apartment.
Joss’s forehead hit Gawin’s shoulder with a thud. "You have got to be kidding me."
Gawin jumped, the sudden noise breaking the spell. He blinked, looking slightly dazed before he realized what the sound was. A slow, mischievous smirk spread across his face the first real smile Joss had seen all night.
"Oh," Gawin said, his voice returning to its playful, teasing tone.
"That'll be the delivery. My stomach was growling louder than you were whispering, Joss."
"I was this close, G," Joss groaned, falling back onto the cushions as Gawin scrambled off the couch, looking much more energetic than he had five minutes ago.
"The massage was a 10/10," Gawin called over his shoulder, heading for the door to grab their dinner. "But the food is a 11/10. You can try to beat the score after we eat!"
The spicy aroma of the Tom Yum filled the air as they sat cross-legged on the rug, the coffee table between them acting as a temporary peace treaty. The "angy" tension had completely dissolved, replaced by the comfortable hum of the air conditioner and the clink of spoons.
Gawin took a sip of the broth, a contented sigh escaping him. "Okay, fine. The food is better than the airport lounge."
Joss laughed, leaning back on one elbow while he watched Gawin eat. "See? I know how to take care of you. Even when I’m 'busy' at street parties."
Gawin paused, his expression softening into something genuinely warm. "Speaking of taking care of people... the fans in Singapore kept asking about you at the fansign today."
Joss perked up, a faint, proud smile touching his lips. "Oh yeah? What did they say? Did they tell you to make sure I don't get into trouble?"
"Actually," Gawin leaned forward, his eyes shimmering in the dim lamp light. "One girl brought a photo of us from the last shoot, the one where you’re looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. She told me she flew all the way from Indonesia just to tell me that she feels 'safe' whenever she sees us together."
Joss reached out, his thumb catching a stray drop of soup on the corner of Gawin's lip. "And what did you tell her?"
"I told her..." Gawin’s voice dropped to a gentle, sincere register. "I told her she was right. That no matter how loud the crowd gets or how far away I travel, I always know exactly where home is."
The playfulness of the evening settled into a deep, quiet intimacy. Joss moved around the table to sit right next to Gawin, pulling him into his side.
"I saw the clips on X," Joss admitted softly. "The way you looked at the camera when someone mentioned my name... you had that specific smile. The one you only have when you’re thinking about something you love."
Gawin didn't deny it. He leaned his head against Joss’s bare, warm shoulder, the scent of the soap still lingering. "I missed you, Joss. The fansign was amazing, the energy was incredible... but every time I looked at the empty seat next to me, I just wanted the flight to be earlier."
Joss wrapped his arm around Gawin’s waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. "I’m not going anywhere. No more parties, no more stories. Just us."
Gawin looked up, the last trace of his earlier pout gone, replaced by a gaze full of trust. "Promise?"
Joss leaned down, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to Gawin's forehead. "Promise. Now finish your dinner, babe. We still have that massage to finish."
Joss wasn't kidding about the "Do Not Disturb" mode. The moment the last container was closed, Gawin started to gather the trash, but Joss’s hand was already there, firm and steady. "Nope. Go," Joss said, tilting his head toward the bedroom. "I’ve got the dishes. You’ve been on your feet all day, G. Just go rest."
Gawin opened his mouth to argue, something about "sharing the chores" but Joss just gave him a look that promised a very long night, and Gawin found himself retreating to the bedroom with a flustered smile.
Gawin had just stepped into the ensuite bathroom and reached for the hem of his shirt when the door clicked open. He had the shower running, the steam starting to fog up the mirror. He’d just finished stripping down and was reaching for his towel when Joss appeared in the doorway, still in those low-slung sweatpants.
"I thought I told you to rest," Joss murmured, his eyes dark as they tracked the droplets of condensation on Gawin's skin.
"I am resting! A hot shower is—"
Joss didn't let him finish. He stepped forward, taking the towel from the rack and wrapping it snugly around Gawin’s waist before gently but firmly pulling him out of the steam-filled bathroom and back toward the bed. "The shower can wait. I told you I’d give you a proper massage, and I don't break promises."
Joss made him lay face-down on the cool silk sheets. The room was dark now, save for a small candle Joss must have lit while the dishes were soaking.
"Joss, I'm literally covered in travel grime," Gawin muffled into the pillow, though he didn't resist when he felt the weight of Joss climbing onto the bed, straddling his thighs.
"I don't care," Joss whispered. He poured a generous amount of oil onto his palms. This time, he didn't just rub his hands; he used his thumbs to work deep into the muscles of Gawin's lower back.
The heat from Joss’s body was intense. Every time his palms slid up Gawin’s spine, the friction sent a jolt of electricity through the room. Joss was being meticulous, starting from the base of Gawin’s neck and working all the way down to where the towel met his waist.
The atmosphere shifted from "sweet" to "searing" in seconds. Joss leaned down, his chest flat against Gawin’s back, his hands moving to Gawin’s sides, pulling him upward slightly so he could whisper directly into his ear.
"Is this better than the Singapore lounge, G?"
Gawin let out a low, shaky moan, his fingers clutching the sheets. "Joss... stop talking."
"Make me," Joss teased, his teeth grazing the shell of Gawin’s ear before his hands slipped just a fraction lower, testing the knot of the towel. "You stayed in SG for two days. That’s fourty-eight hours of me being 'behaved.' I think it’s time I got my reward, don’t you?"
Gawin turned his head, his eyes hooded and dark with a mix of exhaustion and sudden, sharp desire. He reached back, his hand finding Joss’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss that tasted like a homecoming.
The massage was forgotten, the oil on their skin acting as a lubricant as their bodies slid together with a sudden, desperate friction. Gawin didn't wait for Joss to lead; he twisted around, his fingers tangling in Joss's hair to pull him down into a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a claim.
Gawin was relentless. He chased the taste of Joss, his tongue exploring every curve of the other man's teeth and the roof of his mouth with a hunger that screamed how much he’d hated that two-day gap. Every time Joss tried to pull back to catch his breath, Gawin followed, deepening the kiss until Joss was let out a low, vibrating growl deep in his throat.
Gawin’s hand wandered down, his palm finding the heavy heat of Joss’s bulge through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. He didn't just touch; he stroked with a slow, agonizing rhythm that knew exactly how to make Joss lose his composure.
Joss’s hands, which had been so steady during the massage, were now shaking. He felt his mind fracturing—the street party, the fans—it all evaporated, leaving only the sensation of Gawin’s hand and the wet, frantic heat of their mouths.
"Babe... enough," Joss gasped against Gawin’s lips, though he was leaning into the touch, his hips bucking instinctively.
Gawin didn't stop. He looked up, his eyes dark and dilated, a stray drop of massage oil shimmering on his cheekbone. "I thought you wanted to prove you were mine, P' Bao. Don't stop now."
That was the final thread of Joss's restraint snapping. He reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants and shoving them down his thighs in one rough, impatient motion. He kicked them off his ankles, his skin finally meeting Gawin’s in a surge of heat.
Joss hovered over him, his muscles corded and tense, looking every bit like the man everyone on Instagram had been eyeing but this time, the only eyes on him were the ones he actually cared about. He pinned Gawin’s wrists above his head, his breathing ragged.
"You're so dangerous when you're jealous," Joss growled, his voice a raw, low rumble.
Gawin arched his back, the towel around his waist long forgotten and discarded somewhere on the floor. "Then do something about it."
Joss groaned as he gripped Gawin’s hips, shifting their weight until he was flat on his back, pulling Gawin up to straddle him. The contrast was stark, Joss’s broad, tanned frame against the silk sheets, and Gawin sitting tall above him, looking like a king reclaiming his throne.
"I’ll let you do everything to me, babe," Joss rasped, his hands sliding up to rest on Gawin’s thighs, his eyes fixed on Gawin with an intensity that was almost worshipful. "I’m all yours. Every inch."
Gawin didn't move to end the torture; he was just getting started. He reached for the bottle of massage oil on the nightstand, his eyes locked on Joss’s. With a slow, deliberate tilt of his hand, he let the warm oil drip down, the golden liquid glistening as it coated Joss’s length.
Joss’s breath hitched, his abdominal muscles rippling as he watched Gawin work.
Then, Gawin lowered himself. He didn't enter; instead, he aligned their bodies perfectly. He began to slide himself against Joss, skin-to-skin, the oil creating a slick, searing friction. He moved in a slow, torturous grind—cock to cock—while the heat of his entrance teased the very tip of Joss's heat, never quite giving him what he actually wanted.
Joss’s head hit the pillow, his eyes rolling back as he let out a strangled sound. Every time Gawin slid upward, the oil made the sensation almost too much to bear. It was a test of patience that Joss was rapidly losing.
"G... please," Joss choked out, his fingers digging into Gawin’s waist, leaving faint white marks on his skin.
Gawin leaned down, his damp hair brushing against Joss’s forehead, a small, triumphant smirk playing on his lips. He increased the pace of the friction, his own breath hitching as he felt Joss’s heart hammering against his chest.
"You were so popular tonight, weren't you?" Gawin whispered, his voice a velvety tease as he continued to grind against him, purposefully avoiding the final move. "Everyone wanted a piece of you. But only I get to do this. Only I get to see you like this."
Joss’s hips bucked upward, trying to force the connection, but Gawin held him down, his weight pinning Joss as he continued the agonizingly slow slide.
"Patience, Joss," Gawin murmured, nipping at Joss’s jawline. "We have all night to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to."
The air in the room was thick with the scent of lemongrass and the heavy, humid heat of their skin. Gawin took his time, relishing the power he held over the man beneath him. He started at Joss’s lips, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of lingering spices and desperate longing, before his trail of fire began to move downward.
Gawin’s lips traced the line of Joss’s throat, his tongue flickering against the pulse point that was drumming a frantic rhythm. He moved to Joss’s chest, his teeth grazing over one nipple before his tongue swirled around it, teasing the peak until Joss let out a sharp, broken gasp.
"Babe... you’re killing me," Joss hissed, his back arching off the bed as Gawin’s hand began to wander.
While Gawin’s mouth stayed busy at Joss's chest, his fingers were exploring elsewhere. His hand slid down Joss's side, tracing the dip of his waist and the hard line of his hip bone, before finally wrapping around Joss’s length. The oil made every stroke feel electric, a slick, sliding heat that had Joss’s toes curling into the sheets.
Gawin continued his slow path, his kisses moving over Joss’s abdominal muscles, which were pulled taut with every ragged breath. He was meticulous, treating Joss’s body like a map he had memorized and was now reclaiming.
When Gawin finally hovered above the epicenter of Joss's heat, he didn't stop the movement of his hands. He looked up, watching Joss’s face, the way his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched in a mix of agony and ecstasy.
"Look at me, Joss," Gawin commanded softly.
As Joss’s hooded eyes flickered open, Gawin lowered his head. He used his lips and tongue to tease the very tip, swirling and tasting, while his hand worked below in a rhythmic, steady motion. It was a dual assault on Joss’s senses, the wet warmth of Gawin’s mouth above and the firm, oiled grip of his hand below.
Joss’s hands flew to the headboard, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wood for stability. The slow, calculated pace Gawin was keeping was driving him to the edge of sanity. Every flick of Gawin’s tongue was a promise; every squeeze of his hand was a reminder.
"I can't... I can't take the 'slow' anymore, babe," Joss groaned, his voice breaking as a wave of pleasure crashed over him.
Gawin pulled back just an inch, a drop of oil glistening on his bottom lip as he looked at the masterpiece of frustration he had created. He leaned forward, whispering against the heated skin, "I told you, Joss. I’m making sure you’re so full of me that there's no room for anyone else."
The room was thick with a heavy, primal tension that seemed to vibrate in the silence between Joss’s ragged breaths. Joss was completely undone, his body slick with oil and sweat, his head thrashing against the pillow as he reached the absolute limit of his endurance.
"G... please," Joss rasped, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate edge. He reached down, his large hands trembling as they gripped Gawin’s waist, trying to pull him up, to bridge that final agonizing gap. "I’m losing it. Give it to me. I need you... now."
Gawin looked down at him, his own breathing shallow and fast. Seeing Joss—the man who had been the center of everyone's attention all night—now completely at his mercy, pleading for him, was the final spark. The "angy" pout was long gone, replaced by a look of fierce, possessive hunger.
"Say it again," Gawin whispered, his voice shaking.
"I’m yours," Joss groaned, his eyes locking onto Gawin’s with a searing intensity. "Only yours. Please, G. Take me home."
Gawin finally relented. He reached back, his fingers guided by the slick heat of the massage oil, and prepared himself in one swift, practiced motion. He rose up on his knees, the tip of Joss’s heat brushing against him, and then, with a slow, heavy sink, he lowered himself down.
Joss let out a loud, guttural shout into the empty room, his eyes slamming shut as he felt Gawin take all of him. The sensation was overwhelming, hot, tight, and perfect.
Gawin didn't let him rest. The moment he was settled, he leaned forward, his hands planting firmly on Joss’s chest for leverage, and began to move.
The oil from the massage and the remnants of the Songkran water made everything feel incredibly fluid and intense. It was a hot, wet ride, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the rhythmic creak of the bed filling the ensuite. Gawin found a punishing pace, his hips rolling and snapping with a confidence that left Joss breathless.
Joss’s hands moved from Gawin’s waist to his back, his fingers digging into Gawin’s skin, anchoring them together. He watched as Gawin’s head fell back, his throat bared, his body glistening under the amber light as he rode through the waves of pleasure.
"Look at me... G, I wanna see your pretty eyes," Joss choked out, bucking his hips upward to meet every downward stroke.
Gawin opened his eyes, leaning down until their foreheads touched. He was flushed, his lips swollen from their earlier kisses, looking entirely beautiful and completely possessed.
"You're not... at the party anymore," Gawin gasped out between heaving breaths, his rhythm becoming frantic and desperate as they both neared the edge.
"I’m right here," Joss promised, his voice a low growl of pure satisfaction. "Exactly where I belong."
Joss’s hands moved from Gawin’s waist to his hips, his grip like iron. He didn't just meet Gawin's movements anymore, he dictated them. With a sudden, powerful surge, Joss bucked upward, driving deep and hard, a low growl erupting from his chest as he took control of the rhythm.
"You want it rough, Win? You want to know exactly who I belong to?" Joss growled, his voice a gravelly, low-frequency vibration.
He didn't wait for an answer. Joss bucked his hips upward with a violent, punishing force.
"F-fuck! Joss!" Gawin’s head slammed back, his eyes rolling into his head. "Ah! Slow—no, don't—ngghhh!"
Joss ignored the plea, driving into him with a relentless, heavy rhythm. Each impact was loud, a wet thud echoing in the quiet condo. Joss was hitting that specific spot deep inside, over and over, with the precision of a man obsessed.
"Nnh, j-joss... please... ah! Hah... hah... too much... it's too much!" Gawin’s voice was breaking, turning into high-pitched, desperate whinges.
Joss leaned up, biting down hard on Gawin’s shoulder to stifle his own roar. He increased the pace until it was a blur of friction and heat. The oil made every slide agonizingly deep.
"Ah! Ah! AHH! Joss, wait—I’m—I'm gonna—!" Gawin’s body began to spasm. The combination of the rough, deep friction and Joss’s thumb pressing firmly against him pushed his nervous system over the edge. His legs began to shake uncontrollably, his toes curling into the silk.
"JOSS! NO! AHHH—!" Gawin’s back arched into a bow, a long, strangled cry tearing from his throat. The sheer intensity of the overstimulation hit him like a physical blow. His muscles locked, and his body gave way completely. He released in a sudden, hot burst, his internal muscles clenching so hard around Joss that it was Joss’s turn to lose his mind.
But Joss wasn't finished. Even with both of them gasping for air, the possessive adrenaline from the night hadn't fully ebbed away. He reached down and grabbed one of Gawin’s legs, hooking his arm under the knee and dragging it up high toward Gawin’s chest, pinning him into an even deeper, more vulnerable stretch.
"J-Joss... wait, I can't... I’m still—" Gawin’s voice was a weak, airy thread, his eyes wide and dazed as he felt the sudden shift.
"Shh," Joss hummed, his voice a dark, vibrating rumble against Gawin's ear. "I told you I was going to prove it. I'm not done yet."
With Gawin's leg pinned back, exposing him completely to the amber light, Joss began to move again. The friction was even louder now, a heavy, wet squelch as he used the messy combination of oil and their shared release to slide back in. He didn't go slow. He went for the same deep, sensitive spot, his thrusts coming in hard, rhythmic thuds.
"Ah! Ah! Joss! No... stop... mmnnggh!" Gawin’s hands flew to Joss’s forearms, trying to push him away even as his own hips betrayed him, bucking upward to meet the crushing weight.
Joss leaned down, his teeth grazing Gawin's jawline, his breath hot and frantic. "You like this, don't you? Knowing that while you were away, I was thinking about doing exactly this to you?"
Joss picked up the pace, his movements turning frantic and rough. He focused on the friction, his thumb working in tandem with the heavy, wet slides of his hips. The sound of their bodies colliding—that steady, rhythmic slap, slap, slap—filled the room, drowning out the hum of the AC.
Gawin’s head thrashed from side to side, his hair a sweaty mess against the pillows. "Hah... hah... Joss... please... I’m gonna—again—ahhh!" Gawin choked out, his fingers bruising as he gripped the headboard. His vision was blurring, the room dissolving into flashes of amber light and dark shadows. He was so close that his skin felt hypersensitive, every touch from Joss sending a fresh jolt of electricity through his spine, yet that final release remained just out of reach. He needed more. He needed the friction to be harder, the contact to be deeper, but Joss suddenly pulled back, the sudden absence of heat making Gawin let out a low, frustrated moan of protest. "Patience," Joss rasped, his voice a low vibration that seemed to settle right in Gawin’s bones. Gawin tried to turn his head, to beg or to pull him back, but he was too weak, his muscles twitching with the effort of holding back the tide. He didn't realize Joss was moving with a new, predatory intent until he felt the mattress lurch.
Joss sat up, his muscles gleaming with sweat and oil, and slid off the edge of the bed until his feet hit the floor.
But he didn't let go of Gawin.
Joss reached out, his large hands hooking under Gawin’s armpits and pulling the smaller man’s body half-off the bed. Gawin let out a startled, breathless yelp as his torso was dragged across the silk sheets until his chest was pressed flat against the mattress at the very edge, his legs dangling.
Joss stood behind him, his shadow looming large in the amber light. He grabbed Gawin’s hips, his fingers digging in to anchor him, and guided Gawin’s knees to the floor so he was kneeling, bent over the bed.
"Joss... wait, my legs are shaking... I can't stand—" Gawin panted, his voice breaking as he felt the cool air hit his heated skin.
"I've got you," Joss growled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. "Just hold onto the bed."
Joss didn't give him a moment to recover. He stepped closer, his chest pressing against Gawin's lower back, and drove forward with a sudden, powerful surge.
"F-FUCK! Joss!" Gawin’s hands scrambled for purchase, his fingers clawing into the mattress as he felt the sheer depth of the impact.
The sound was primal—the heavy, wet thud of Joss’s hips against him, followed by the frantic, slick squelch of the oil. Joss was relentless from behind, his hands moving from Gawin's hips to his hair, pulling his head back so he could see Gawin's face in the mirror across the room.
"Look at yourself, Win," Joss hissed, his breath hot against Gawin's ear as he increased the pace. "Look at who’s holding you. Does anyone else get to see you like this?"
"N-no... ah! Ah! Only you... Joss... only you! Mmnngghh!" Gawin’s head fell back, his throat bared and trembling.
Gawin’s body went rigid, his toes curling as the release finally took hold, crashing over him in waves that stole the very air from his lungs. He let out a long, broken cry that echoed against the bedroom walls, his eyes fluttering shut as the world dissolved into pure, searing sensation. Every muscle in his body corded and then spasmed, his weight supported entirely by Joss’s unwavering grip as he came apart in those massive hands.
Joss held him through it all, grounding him amidst the storm. He felt every tremor that racked Gawin’s frame, listening to the frantic, sobbing hitches in his breath until the peaks began to level out into soft, exhausted whimpers.
Slowly, carefully, Joss eased his hold. He didn't let Gawin fall, but he allowed the smaller man’s body to slump back against the mattress, his skin slick and glowing under the amber light. The silence that followed was thick and sweet, broken only by the sound of two hearts trying to find their rhythm again.
The frantic energy in the room finally began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, languid heat. Joss stepped back up onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate now. He didn't want the night to end, but he wanted to savor the sight of Gawin—flushed, breathless, and completely undone.
He reached down and gently rolled Gawin onto his side, facing away from him. Joss curled his body around Gawin’s back, a perfect fit, and pulled Gawin’s top leg up until it rested over his own hip.
The air was thick and silent, save for the hum of the AC and the sound of their synchronized, heavy breathing. Joss didn't rush. He pressed his chest against Gawin’s back, his heartbeat steady and strong against Gawin’s spine.
He entered again with a single, excruciatingly slow slide.
"Nngh... Joss..." Gawin let out a long, shaky exhale, his forehead resting against the mattress. The pace change caught him off guard; after the roughness, this sudden gentleness felt even more intense. "It’s... it’s so deep..."
"Shh," Joss murmured, his voice a velvety vibration against the nape of Gawin's neck. "I want to feel every bit of you. No rushing."
Joss began a slow, rocking motion. It wasn't about power anymore; it was about the slick, wet friction and the way their bodies felt perfectly molded together. With every forward press, Joss’s hand wandered, his fingers tracing the line of Gawin's ribs, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of Gawin's hip.
The sound was soft—a rhythmic, quiet shhh-hic of the oil as they moved. Joss leaned in, his lips pressing slow, lingering kisses to the birthmark on Gawin’s shoulder, then up to the sensitive spot behind his ear.
"You're so warm, G," Joss whispered, his hand sliding down to tangle his fingers with Gawin’s on the sheet. "I could stay like this until morning."
Gawin tilted his head back, his eyes half-closed and glazed with a quiet, peaceful pleasure. Every slow, deep thrust felt like it was reaching his soul. He reached back, his fingers finding Joss’s hair, pulling him closer.
"Don't stop," Gawin breathed, his voice a soft, broken whimper. "Just... stay right there."
Joss obeyed, his movements becoming even slower, even more intentional. He watched the way Gawin’s body reacted to the slightest shift—the way his breath would hitch and his fingers would tighten. It was a slow-motion surrender, a quiet confirmation that after the chaos of the festival and the distance of the flight, they were finally, truly back in their own world.
The night settled into a peaceful, rhythmic pulse, the amber light of the lamp catching the sheen of oil on their skin as they drifted toward a final, quiet release together.