Chapter Text
“Do you wanna fuck?” Pol asks out of nowhere, disturbing the quiet in their room. Pol lies on his back, resting on Arm’s chest. He tips his head back to look into Arm’s eyes, knocking Arm’s technical manual out of his hands. Due to their size difference, in this position Pol’s legs hang off the bottom of the bed, his pyjamas rolled up around his calves. Arm’s legs hook over Pol’s thighs, keeping him bracketed to the bed. It’s warm, safe and cosy - a luxury in their line of work.
“Are you not reading?” Arm asks, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I need to finish reading this. I’m trying to work out the code for a new hacking software Khun Korn has assigned me.”
Pol’s novel - a thin volume with a cover featuring some anime characters in fantasy attire - lies forgotten on the bed next to him.
Pol pouts. “Come on, Arm. We’re off the clock. It’s so rare we get a night just the two of us without Khun. I miss you.”
Arm chuckles and runs a hand through Pol’s hair. “Do you not have some businessmen who have died and been transported to another world to read about?”
Pol huffs and widens his eyes. “I’ve already read three chapters.”
“You’re horny?” Arm asks him, raising an eyebrow. He asks mostly as a courtesy; given the opportunity, Pol is always horny.
Pol whines, rubbing his feet together like a cricket. “I am. I’ve had a semi since Khun dressed you up in that feather boa this afternoon.”
Suppressing a giggle, Arm continues stroking Pol’s hair, moving down to the nape of his neck, feeling the goosebumps flare there.
“You get turned on by weird stuff, Pol. Did the feather boa really do it for you?”
Pol snorts. “You trying to keep a serious face turned me on.”
Arm flicks the lobe of his ear, and Pol melts against him. “I was trying not to sneeze. I’m sensitive to feathers...”
“You picked the wrong employer then,” Pol laughs.
Arm makes a little “Mhmm,” noise. Being assigned to Tankhun wasn’t exactly either of their choices, but they both care deeply for the oldest major family brother and have the right personality type to care for some of his more unstable traits. Arm knows he’s one of the more well-rounded bodyguards, very adept at personal protection and also emotionally able to deal with Tankhun’s outbursts. Most of all, he's resilient. Pol... well, Pol is just Pol. While he passed basic training with flying colours, he’s not the most perceptive. In Arm’s opinion, one of the reasons he has been saved from being mown down by machine gun fire is that Tankhun has imprinted onto him like a baby chick. Also, he has a good sense of humour, is up for most things, and happily helps Tankhun navigate life in his own way. Not many people know the extent of Pol’s story pre-mafia; Arm and Chan are the only two in the know. Others joke that he must have a secret wife, or gets desperately homesick, and that’s why he gets extra phone time...
The true story is quite different.
Arm places his manual down on the bedside table. Pol takes it as a signal that they are starting, and wiggles happily against Arm, like a puppy excitedly greeting its owner. He begins to shuffle his pyjama bottoms down to his thighs.
“Who said you could start undressing?” Arm says, raising an eyebrow.
Pol stops, his cock flopped out over the waistband of his loose pants.
“Sorry, Boss,” he whispers, but doesn’t move to put his cock away. Pol calling Arm ‘Boss’ in bed started as a joke between them, but now has become a vital part of their dynamic. Arousal twists in Arm’s gut at the honorific.
Arm reaches around to the front of Pol, tracing his hand over the exposed jut of his hipbone, holding him close. The top of Pol’s arse presses against Arm’s groin.
“I might have to punish you,” Arm teases, continuing to stroke across Pol's inner thigh. Arm’s cock twitches in his boxers. “Maybe I won’t let you come...”
Pol lets out a little squeak and wiggles again. His cock is starting to fill and harden. “You wouldn’t. You like it too much. I’m really hot when I come.”
“Maybe.” Arm moves his hand to the elasticated waistband of Pol’s pyjama bottoms, pulls it outwards, then lets the band snap down onto the sensitive skin of his cock. "You are really hot when you come."
Pol gasps and goes still, running a hand over his now-covered crotch.
“Was that my punishment?” he asks.
Arm reaches down and joins Pol’s hand, palming him over his pyjamas, soothing the tender skin.
“Yeah, Pol, that was your punishment.” He feels down the length of Pol’s cock through the pyjamas and finds him half hard. Pol is one of the bigger men Arm has been with, and he always marvels at just how much there is of him, but how hard and swollen he still gets, how he somehow gets bigger. He’s not cocky about it either... doesn’t seem to notice he’s hung like a porn star. Looks down at it as if to say: ‘Oh, this old thing... yeah, it’s just, whatever.’ Arm dips his hand inside Pol’s pyjamas, stroking down his inner thigh, and around to his balls. Pol presses back against him, a breathy moan leaving him. Arm taps his hip. “Go be a good boy and get undressed over there for me.”
"Yes, Boss,” Pol says, his eyes darkening, pupils dilating with arousal.
Pol hops off him, his long limbs getting a bit tangled as he stands a bit away from the bed. His forgotten novel goes flying to the floor. Arm moves his legs around off the bed so his feet are on the floor, in an optimal Pol-watching position. He reaches for the bedside table and makes sure a packet of tissues is within reach.
In front of him, Pol wiggles his hips as he shimmies his t-shirt off. Pol is more lithe in his build, less stocky than Arm. Instead, he’s like a greyhound, each muscle finely toned. Due to his height, even with his muscle, he still looks skinny to an outside observer. Arm's eyes track to Pol's dark brown nipples; the left still bears the scar of a removed nipple piercing. When Pol had become a bodyguard, Chan had threatened to rip it out if Pol didn’t remove it, insisting that’s what any semi-intelligent enemy would do. Then, Pol would have to walk around with a torn nipple, and Chan wouldn’t let him come crying to him about it.
Pol pushes his pyjama trousers down slowly, revealing an inch of skin at a time until the trousers pool around his feet. He flicks his socks off with them, standing naked in the room. At the sight of him, Arm’s cock twitches in his boxers.
“On your knees,” Arm orders.
Pol drops to his knees, his eyes big and wide, his palms flat on the floor. He pants out little breaths, his cheeks flushed already.
Arm reaches underneath himself to pull one of the holdalls out from underneath the bed.
“Hmm,” Arm says. “What am I going to use on you?”
Pol whines. His mouth falls open in almost a Pavlovian response at the sound of the zipper opening.
“Anything, boss,” he gasps out. “I know you’ll make me feel good.”
Arm brings one of his organised rolls from the holdall. He had them specially made, so each toy has its own pocket, to allow for optimum organisation. Systems are good; systems mean that things don’t crumble and fall apart.
“You okay with a plug?” Arm asks Pol. He’d been in the shower earlier, but Arm isn’t sure of Pol’s comfort level for something inside of him after a long day at work.
Pol nods. “Small one,” he says.
“Vibration?”
Pol hums and nods. “You treat me so well.” His cock is even harder now from just kneeling on the floor, a slight sheen of wetness around his foreskin.
Arm preens at that, looking through the organised roll, to find the blue silicone plug he knows that Pol loves. He finds it and takes it out, holding it in his hand out to Pol, like you would a ball or a stick to a particularly eager puppy.
If Pol had a tail, he would be wagging it. He shuffles forward on his knees closer to Arm and rests his chin against his outstretched hand, looking up at him with big eyes, the plug just kissing his lips.
Fuck.
Pol is something else when he’s like this. Arm shifts, trying to accommodate his swelling cock inside his boxers. Usually, he would make sure Pol came first, or at least give him the option of what he wanted. When he’s domming, Arm is a service-dom through and through; he loves blowing subs' minds, taking them to places they never thought they could go, exorcising their emotional ghosts. His sole focus is on their pleasure.
But tonight, Pol kneels so perfectly in front of Arm. He can be a little selfish for once, just because he knows Pol likes to be of service as much as he does.
“Fetch me the lube,” Arm says.
Pol scurries on his hands and knees to the bedside table. He doesn’t have to go far and reaches with his long arm to grab it, then passes it to Arm. Arm places the plug on the bed and squeezes some of the lube onto his fingers. Pol kneels in front of him again, mouth lax and open, his eyes half lidded.
“Such a good boy,” Arm says. “I’m going to make sure you feel good inside. Then you are going to suck your boss’s cock.”
Pol lets out a low exhale and bites at his lip.
“Turn around for me,” Arm tells him. Pol obliges, shuffling around on his knees so he faces away from Arm. “Lift your ass.”
Pol shifts into a lazy downward-facing dog, so his ass is at Arm’s level. His balls hang heavy between his thighs, swaying as he pushes his hips back more and adjusts his legs so he is spread open.
Arm swipes a finger down the cleft of Pol’s arse, and lingers over his hole, pressing against the ring of muscle, massaging it to relax it. Pol gasps out, and a tremble runs down the length of his thighs as Arm gently eases just the tip of his finger inside. Once Pol is more relaxed, he pushes more of his finger in, then adds more lube with the next press in. The plug is relatively small, Pol could easily take it without any prep, but Arm likes the feeling of his finger inside him. He curls his finger toward Pol’s navel, pressing on that soft spot inside of him. Pol lets out a gasp and shifts forward on his elbows.
Taking that as his cue, Arm slowly removes his finger and pushes the plug into Pol’s waiting hole. Pol whines as the plug settles against him. It’s not as fancy as some of the other plugs Arm has, which are controlled via Bluetooth, will pulse in time to music and the like. This one only has a small button at the base to turn on the vibration. Arm presses it, and the toy buzzes into life.
“Feels good,” Pol whispers.
Arm taps the base of the plug where it is nestled in his hole. “Turn around for me.”
Pol shifts out of his yoga pose and assumes position kneeling in front of Arm.
“Do I get to suck your cock now?” Pol pouts.
Arm nods, and Pol wiggles with happiness again. He rubs his face up Arm’s exposed leg until it rests against the fabric of his boxers, nuzzling up against his cock. Pol presses a little kiss to where Arm is straining against the cotton, and then pulls the boxers down with his teeth, freeing him. Compared to Pol, Arm knows he’s average. But there’s nothing wrong with that. It just means he has company, that's not a bad thing.
“Yum,” Pol whispers, and begins licking the head of Arm’s cock. Then, he grasps him just above his balls, and licks up and down the length of him, making happy, sloppy little noises.
Arm allows himself to relax into it, one hand on the bed keeping his balance, and the other nestled in Pol’s hair at the nape of his neck. Hot blooms of pleasure build in his lower stomach, working their way down his thighs.
“Fuck, Pol,” he whispers. “Your mouth.”
“S’good ‘oss,” Pol garbles around half a mouthful of cock. Speaking forces his top teeth to press against the sensitive skin.
“Shush,” Arm instructs. “Be a good boy.”
“Mm ‘eah, sor -”
Arm pulls his hair at the back, forcing an inch or so of his cock out of Pol’s mouth.
“I said, shush.”
Pol gets the hint and begins ardently taking Arm’s cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to create more suction. The warm wetness feels so good. Arms eyes flutter closed, his cheeks redden, and a moan breaks free of his mouth. Pol increases his pace, and with it, the sloppy noises he loves to make.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” Arm gasps out, stroking down Pol’s shoulders. “You are so good. Such a good boy.”
Cock still in his mouth, Pol wiggles again, taking Arm deeper, circling him in just the way Arm loves. He’s close. His heartbeat pulses in his temple. Then all at once, he’s at the crest of the wave, crashing over the edge of a welcome shore, pulsing into Pol’s mouth.
When Arm pulls back, Pol kneels in front of him, eyes wide. The faint buzz of the vibrator and the sound of Arm’s breath are the only sounds in the room. Pol puffs his cheeks out and goes to whine as the vibration pattern pulses; a trickle of come runs down his chin. Arm reaches for the tissue and presses it against Pol’s mouth, allowing him to spit into it. Pol doesn’t mind the taste of come but says he finds swallowing it gross, that it's like drinking a cup of corn starch slurry. They could solve this issue by using condoms for oral, but Pol also has a latex allergy and an aversion to the taste of latex-free condoms. They could also solve the issue by Pol not insisting that Arm comes in his mouth… but that’s beside the point.
So, they persevere with the tissues.
“Thanks, boss,” Pol says. Arm wipes his lips, and then passes him his flask to take a drink of water. He bucks back onto the plug in his ass, whining at the sensation. His cock is so hard now, dribbling out a small amount of precome.
Arm cups his chin in his hand. “My good boy,” he says. “So good to me. Let me give you your reward.” From his position kneeling on the floor, Arm toes Pol’s erect cock, pushing back against his balls. “Stand up for me.”
Pol stands, so that his cock is just in line for Arm to jerk him off. Arm wraps a protective hand around Pol’s back, keeping him in position. Pol is already wet so Arm gathers some of the precome wetting his foreskin to lessen the friction as he moves the skin back and forth.
“Boss, please,” Pol gasps out, as Arm languidly strokes him. “Ah-”
“You are so ready for me,” Arm whispers. “So needy. So desperate.”
Pol’s thighs tremble and he takes in a big suck of air as Arm begins to stroke him quicker, trying to keep himself upright.
“I wanna come, boss,” Pol whines.
Arm strokes him harder, circling the head of his cock, keeping him fixed in position. A spurt of precome dribbles from Pol’s cock. He gets like this when he’s close, looks like he’s coming in short little trembling bursts of thin fluid.
“Fuck...” Pol whines. Then his knees buckle, and he comes with a shout, coming across his own stomach, but also across Arm’s pyjama shirt.
Pol flops against Arm, immediately boneless, breathing heavily against Arm’s shoulder. Arm strokes up his back, soothing him. Then reaches down to remove the plug from his hole. Pol tenses against him as Arm wiggles it free.
“I’ve got you,” Arm whispers in his ear. Pol pulls back, then leans in for a kiss. Even with the tissue and the spitting, his lips still taste of come, salty and slightly metallic. They kiss, slowly, languidly, enjoying the closeness and the feel of each other’s mouths. “Come lie on the bed,” Arm says once Pol’s legs start to tremble. “We’ll cuddle.”
They cuddle up together on the too-small single bed, sharing their body heat, Pol still naked and Arm unclothed from the waist down. He strokes over Pol’s shoulder where he rests on his chest, soft and lax and sleepy.
“Arm,” Pol says after a while. “Do you know what you said about not letting me come?”
Arm brushes his finger over the shell of Pol’s ear, worried he has over stepped a boundary.
“Did you not like it? I won’t do it again.”
Pol shakes his head. “No, no. I liked it. I like the idea of it. I get so worked up. It might be quite hot.”
“You want to try chastity?” Arm asks.
“Well, not like... forever. I don’t want to be chaste,” Pol bats his eyelashes in mock innocence.
“It’s the name of a kink,” Arm says, deadpan. “You know, like cock cages and stuff? You’ve seen mine.” It’s a shame Pol isn’t average, sized then he would fit into one of Arm’s cock cages... Then he wouldn’t have to go through all the rigmarole of getting him one.
"I know what it is. I've been your roommate for five years." Pol pushes himself up on his elbow. “Yeah, like the idea of that is quite hot to me.”
Arm tickles his cheek. “You want me to lock you up.”
A smile crosses Pol’s face. “Just my dick, preferably. You know I hate restraints.”
Arm leans in and kisses Pol’s cheek. “Yeah, it’ll just be your cock - nowhere else.”
A blush colours Pol’s cheeks. “I wanna try it.”
Sometimes, Arm can’t believe he is real. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll sort it out for you.”
****
Sorting it turns out to be a bit harder than Arm wishes it to be. First of all, he needs a tape measure - which, in a mafia compound, and being the personal guard of a renowned fashionista, should be easier than it turns out to be. Second of all, he needs time. At least he can add a tape measure to his supplies. Adding time, well, that's a bit harder.
Even if Arm did have a tape measure to hand, he's hardly seen Pol since their rare Khun-free evening together. Due to the need for the hacking software he's working on, he's spent a lot of hours in the armoury, hunched over his computer, eyes crossing at lines and lines of code. Then, he's needed to provide surveillance cover to Ken and Big on a stakeout of the Russians to try and locate a stolen cocaine shipment. So that's another night in the back of a van, hunched over a computer, listening to Big and Ken either fighting, flirting, or a mixture of both in the front seats. It doesn't help that it is the anniversary week of Tankhun's most traumatic kidnapping, so Pol is staying with him throughout. He has Pete for backup, but Arm wishes he could be there. Khun always struggles. Arm understands completely why he does after what he went through, and while Khun really likes Pete, when Arm and Pol work together, they can always calm him down better.
On his way back to his underground cave from the cafeteria, a cup of coffee in his hand. He bumps into Pol, returning a meal tray to the kitchens.
"How's Khun?"
Pol looks down, knuckles white around the tray. "The usual," he says. "Flashbacks. Regressing to nine, to fifteen. The doctor came yesterday as Khun hyperventilated so much he threw up and then gave himself a nosebleed. He's increased Khun's sedatives, so he's been sleeping a lot today. He's sleeping now, and Pete is sitting with him. I'm just returning these, neither of us have eaten much today."
Arm inches closer to him. His heart aches for their ward. Tankhun has been through things that would have killed most people, endured things that should remain unimaginable. When Arm read the police reports to prepare for being on Tankhun's detail, he gave himself the worst migraine of his life and had nightmares for weeks. It was so bad Chan had to get him some sleeping tablets from the infirmary. "I'm sorry I'm not there."
"You have important stuff to do," Pol sniffs. "Pete and I have it handled."
"I know."
"Miss you," Pol whispers.
Arm signals with his eyes to a corner next to the service lift, where he knows the cameras don't reach. Once they are out of sight, Arm reaches up to hook Pol under the chin. Pol dips down, and Arm presses their lips together. Pol's lips taste of chilli and garlic, the remnants from his meal, and he smells of the lavender pillow spray Khun uses when he's not feeling well. Underneath all that, remains the soft skin smell that is uniquely Pol. Pol eases his tongue into Arm's mouth, relaxing into the kiss.
"I missed you, too," Arm whispers. "You look tired."
"So do you. Come here." Pol takes off Arm's glasses and begins to clean them on his shirt. "I've got smudges on them," he says. Once they are clean, he slips them back on Arm's nose and presses another, more chaste, kiss to his lips.
"I should be getting back," Pol says, looking down sadly. "Pete will be wondering whether I am."
"Say hi to Tankhun for me." Arm turns back before going. "I'll try to pop in this evening."
He doesn't get a chance to pop in on Khun that evening, or the evening after, or the following one. In the daytime, the code keeps breaking, his eyes swim with numbers and dashes. Then, at night he joins Big and Ken on the continued Russian investigation. While snooping around a warehouse, surrounded by sprawling flats, Ken falls heavily. Big immediately starts laughing at him so hard that his breaths come in loud snorts. It's only when Ken doesn't immediately jump up, and continues writhing and holding his shoulder - that Big stops laughing and is by his side, fretting and soothing him. Back in the van, Big insists that they go through the plan again and again, as if planning meticulously will be able to reduce the risk of a loose washing line trailing on the ground right in Ken's path. As if the Russian mob have just developed new laundry-based sabotage techniques, rather than the true reason being that Ken should look where he is going rather than staring at Big's arse. Ken huffs and complains, while Big places medicated tiger balm plasters over his shoulder to try to soothe the pain.
Ken is grumpy, Big is fussing, Arm really needs to piss, but Big won't let him out of the car in case he's also caught out by rogue rival mafia household equipment. The car stinks of tiger balm. And, to make things worse, because Big feels sorry for Ken's poor shoulder, he allows him to play his 'funky' burned CD through the van's stereo system.
Driving away through the back streets of a Bangkok industrial estate, dodging gunfire, with the fucking 'I like pina coladas' song blasting, is less fun than it looks on the tin. Even so, they escape safely, Ken's shoulder feels better after Big massages it out, and Arm manages to finally have a piss behind some bushes in a motorway lay-by.
Unfortunately, they have been rumbled. Which means, more code and less sitting in hot cars with two bickering, dysfunctional friends with benefits, who both happen to be his occasional play partners.
Arm still doesn't have a tape measure.
Arm thinks about going to the uniform fitting department to borrow a tape measure, but is concerned that questions will be asked, and they'll probably want it back, which doesn't really feel appropriate. So really, the only option is to borrow one from Khun.
Luckily, Arm returns back on Khun's duty once Korn understands that the code for the hacking programme will take longer to finalise. Tankhun remains subdued, just beginning to come out of his downward spiral. He lies sprawled out on one of his zebra print sofas, while Pol applies a treatment to his coloured hair. Dark bags frame the eyes of the oldest brother, and his skin is less smooth than it usually is, the skincare regimen having been neglected over the past few days.
"Tankhun," Arm asks. "Do you have a tape measure?"
Tankhun's eyes snap open, the expression on his face more fitting if Arm had asked him whether he had feet.
"Obviously," Tankhun huffs. "I have lots. How else would I send my measurements for custom pieces? Pol, stop wiggling your fingers so much, you are irritating my scalp!"
Pol mumbles an apology and begins to massage the serum in less vigorously.
"Can I borrow one?" Arm asks.
Tankhun whips his head around, flicking hair serum across Pol's face. Pol blinks it out of his eyes, rubbing them with the sleeves of his suit jacket.
"What do you want a tape measure for, Arm?" Tankhun stares at Arm, aghast.
"I need to measure some equipment," Arm replies. It's the only way he knows how to say it. He can't exactly say to Tankhun: well I need it to measure your other bodyguard's cock, so I can buy a cage for it, to lock him up for kinky fun purposes.
Tankhun furrows his orange dyed eyebrows.
"What kind of equipment?"
"Just, you know, bodyguard stuff."
"Eesh, Arm, just take one. There are some in the drawer over there."
"Thank you, Khun, you are very generous." Arm opens the drawer in one of the cabinets, to see various tape measures of different colours, styles and widths. He holds one up, inspecting it. "This one okay, Tankhun?"
"Of course, just have it." Tankhun waves him away with a flourish of his wrist. "I don't want it back either, not after you have been measuring dirty equipment with it, who knows where it will have been. I'll get an infection…
****
“Get on the bed and pull down your pants,” Arm says to Pol once they are back in their room later.
Pol flops down on the single bed, pulls down his suit trousers and underwear and starts happy wiggling on the sheet.
“Ooh, Boss,” he coos. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m going to measure your cock,” Arm replies, completely serious. He takes the tape measure out of his pocket and folds his arms.
“Oh, okay,” Pol says, stopping wiggling, sensing this is serious. “Is this a new kink thing?”
Arm kneels on the bed, his legs on either side of Pol’s.
“No, for the cock cage, Pol. I need to make sure the one I am looking at fits,” He motions to Pol’s flaccid cock. “Can I?”
Pol nods.
Arm takes Pol’s cock in his hand, holding it upright. He passes the end of the tape measure to Pol, indicating for him to hold it at the bottom of his length. Pol obliges, and Arm lines up the tape measure to get a good measurement.
Pol looks up from where he lies on the sheet.
“I’ve heard of a dick measuring contest, but I’ve never had my cock literally measured.”
Arm furrows his eyebrows, confused as to why Pol is acting like this is weird. This is necessary. You wouldn’t get a new suit without taking your measurements.
“I need to make sure I get the right size. Do you want a chafed cock?”
Pol shakes his head and squirms, while his cock fills out in Arm’s hold.
“You’re throwing off my measurement. I need to measure you flaccid,” Arm grumbles, adjusting the tape measure, then looking at the numbers. “You’re just over seven inches.” Arm pulls the tape measure out from under Pol’s finger and then circles it around the thickest part of Pol’s cock, measuring his circumference. He notes the measurement in his head, then gently sets Pol’s cock down. Arm shifts it to the side, so he can measure around Pol’s balls.
Pol giggles. “That tickles.” He lifts his shoulders to look down at himself again.
“You mentioned a flaccid measurement? Is there - ?”
Arm looks to Pol, and inches his hand towards his cock again. It's best to measure when flaccid, measuring when aroused can lead to the cage being too big. But Pol seems to be enjoying this, so he can play with him a little. “I can measure you when you are getting hard, yeah.”
“I thought the whole point was that I won’t get hard.”
“You’ll need a bit of room, it’s likely your cock will try to get hard. I don’t want it to hurt you,” Arm teases. He can bend the truth a little for some kinky fun, even if he does feel slightly guilty about it.
Pol bats his eyelashes. “You care for me so -” Arm cuts his sentence off with a moan as he gives his cock a few lazy strokes. Pol fills out immediately in his hand, growing harder. He needs to catch him before he’s fully hard, so Arm whips out the tape measure and performs a few cursory measurements. Pol whines and squirms. Arm turns his attention back to Pol, still with his trousers around his knees, growing harder and more flushed by the second.
“I’ll order it tonight,” Arm says, wrapping his hand around Pol’s cock.
“Can I come tonight then?” Pol asks. “Seeing though I won’t for a bit.”
“Hmm,” Arm teases. “You might have to persuade me.”
Pol widens his eyes and pouts. “Please,” he whispers. “Please, Boss.”
It’s more than enough for Arm. He takes his glasses off, dips his head down, wraps his mouth around Pol’s cock and proceeds to give him an ardent, incredibly sloppy blowjob. It’s not long before Pol is coming, pulsing into Arm’s mouth, coating his tongue with salt. He swallows, licking his lips, and dips down to press a kiss to Pol’s hipbone.
“Fuck,” Pol gasps out, carding his hand through Arm’s hair. “Holy fuck...”
Arm rests his head on Pol’s thigh, stroking over his softening cock. He'll never get tired of looking at Pol's cock, the weight of it, how it blushes to a deeper red when he's aroused, how wet he gets.
“I can’t wait to see this pretty cock caged,” Arm whispers.
Pol wiggles. “Me too.” He yawns, his eyes drooping. “Cuddle?” he asks. “I’m sleepy.”
Arm shuffles up the bed and cuddles into Pol, holding him close as he slips into sleep, his trousers and underwear still around his knees.
Pol is asleep after not too long. He must be exhausted. Tankhun hadn’t slept at all the previous night, so Pol had been awake for over thirty hours by now. The previous morning, before his shift, Pol left the room early after Chan knocked on their door to say there was a telephone call for him. The fact that he didn't fall asleep while Arm was sucking him off is frankly a miracle.
Arm gently pulls Pol's trousers and underwear down off his legs, then climbs off the small single bed, and pulls the blanket up over Pol. Pol shuffles in his sleep, wrinkling his nose. He adjusts one of his arms so it is behind his head and lets out a loud snore.
Arm heads to the small desk and opens up his laptop. Once it has launched, he opens his own VPN, which circumvents the family's firewalls and content blocks. Then, he opens his preferred supplier for cock cages. Arm has tried many in his time: rigid plastic ones (messy when pissing, unhygienic when sweating), metal ones (pinch your balls too much), ones with large locks on the front (makes your dick feel like it's being pulled to the centre of the earth). His preference is for this brand's products. They are 3D printed, and adjustable with many different size options. He scrolls through and finds Pol's size from the measurements he has memorised. Then, he puts in his bank details, and makes the order, arranging for it to be delivered to the local 7/11 parcel collection area. Arm does this with all his sex toys, not trusting the post room to not be snooping inside his packages.
Closing his laptop, he looks over to Pol still lying on the bed, fast asleep, his hair puffed up from the humidity of the day. In these beds, his feet always poke out of the bottom a little. Usually he curls up, tucking his knees towards his chest, but today, he's fast asleep in the position Arm tucked him in. Arm pads through to the adjoining bathroom and cleans his teeth, spitting into the sink. He puts on his deodorant, and washes his face, the heads back to their bedroom.
Arm slides back into the bed, trying not to wake Pol as he curls up around him. He smells of sweat and now that he's cleaned his teeth, it's very evident that Pol hasn't cleaned his. Pol shifts in his sleep.
"Morning?" Pol mumbles, still half asleep.
"No, you haven't been asleep long." Arm runs a hand through Pol's hair, shifting him so he's leaning against his shoulder.
"What you b' doing?" Pol snuggles up against him.
"Ordering your cock cage," Arm says, matter-of-factly.
"Nice," Pol says, then immediately starts snoring again.
****
Arm goes to the 7/11 on his next day off. He spends a little while browsing the shelves, buys himself a few snacks and some personal care products. Then, with his purchases in a tote bag, he goes to the counter for parcel collection.
He shows them a printout of the collection code, and the older man goes to the back to collect the parcel.
Arm stands in the line, tapping his foot against the floor until the man brings a small cardboard box to him. The man shakes it, and something rattles inside. Arm cringes; he doesn't want it broken before he even gets it onto Pol's cock.
"What's in here then?" the man says, reading the customs label. "Novelty product."
"Just a cage to keep something secure," Arm says, not really thinking about it.
"Oh, like a pet?" The man asks and a thoughtful expression passes over his face. "I had a budgie once who wanted to escape all the time. It was an absolute nightmare. Does your pet bird also keep escaping?"
Arm looks him dead in the eye. There's no point in being embarrassed about sex; it's a normal part of life. Ordering a cock cage is the same as ordering any parcel.
"It's for my friend, actually," Arm continues.
"Oh, your friend's bird then." The man squints at the box. "It must be quite a small bird."
"It's quite big actually." Arm holds his hand out to the cashier, who stares at him, confused. "I'll be having my parcel. Thank you for your help."
He turns and leaves, leaving the parcel cashier staring blankly at him.
****
"I picked up your cage this morning," Arm whispers in Pol's ear.
"Oh did you?" Pol whispers back. "I'm excited."
They sit together on the sofa in Tankhun's room, watching his favourite drama over and over again. He's slowly regulating again after the anniversary week, and this is one of the ways he does it, through retracing familiar, safe territory.
"Pete is on the overnight tomorrow."
"Arm, do you think he will die in the end?" Tankhun interrupts from where he sits at the end of the sofa.
Arm has seen this show enough that he knows he doesn't.
"I'm not sure, Khun Nhu, we will have to see," he replies.
"Oh, I think he will," Tankhun replies with a pout. "What do you think, Pol?"
Pol turns to Tankhun, a soft smile on his face. The dimmed purple-toned lighting in Tankhun's room makes his eyelashes look longer and accentuates the roundness of his cheeks.
"I think he won't."
"Oh, it's so tense," Tankhun says, pulling his knees up to his chest. "What is going to happen? Do you think he will die in the end?"
Arm squeezes Pol's knee, and they circle back around again to the beginning of the conversation. The evening continues in this fashion, until Tankhun is falling asleep on the sofa.
"We should go to bed, Khun Nhu," Pol says, gently touching his arm. Tankhun flinches. "It's late, I'll get your medication."
Reluctantly Tankhun gets up from the sofa and follows Pol through to the bathroom. Arm prepares his bedroom, putting the soft fleece on the bed, spraying the pillows with the lavender mist and dimming the lights.
Pol and Tankhun enter the room a little while later. Tankhun is dressed in silk pyjamas, his eyes slightly glazed; Pol follows, having shed his jacket and changed into his tracksuit trousers, steadying Tankhun.
Arm pulls back the covers on the bed, and Tankhun slips between the sheets.
"Do you want me to hold you Khun Nhu?" Pol asks, his voice soft. Sometimes Tankhun doesn't want to be touched, just wants Pol to sit in a chair at the corner of the room to ensure his safety. Tankhun doesn't respond, but his taps the silk sheet behind him, inviting Pol in.
Pol slips in behind him, bracketing him with his long limbs. Tankhun exhales, his body relaxing.
"Thank you," Tankhun murmurs, sleepily.
"Do you want Arm to join?"
Tankhun nods slowly.
Still in his suit, Arm climbs onto the bed, cuddling up to Pol, reaching his arm over him so his fingers just brush Tankhun's ribs.
"You're safe," Pol whispers. "We're here with you."
Arm inhales the musky smell of the back of his neck, and exhales his tension out.
****
The feeling of a presence in the room drags Arm out of his sleep. The night light, the only illumination in the room, reveals a suited figure standing next to the bed. As the figure reaches out and puts a firm hand on Pol's shoulder, Arm immediately reaches for his gun at his belt.
"Pol," the voice is familiar, soft and accented. Chan. Arm doesn't know when the head bodyguard sleeps, as he always seems to materialise at any indication of trouble, and is always the first to know of everything. "Pol, there is an urgent call for you, I've transferred it through to my office."
"Okay," Pol sounds immediately awake. "I'll come down."
He wiggles out of Arm's hold.
"Everything okay?" Arm whispers. He's so tired his eyes are struggling to focus, and he keeps dipping in and out of sleep.
"It's okay, Arm," Pol says. He takes Arm's wrist and drapes his arm over Tankhun. "Just need to answer the phone. Hold Khun Nhu for me."
Arm makes a small noise of affirmation. Then hears the door click as Pol and Chan leave. Tankhun sleeps through it, still on his increased dose of sedatives. Arm cuddles into Tankhun's back, and lets sleep take him again.
****
Arm finds Pol again at breakfast, after Pete has come to relieve him for his meal break. Holding his tray, Arm looks around the canteen until he sees Pol sitting alone at one of the back tables. He's dressed in his suit again, picking absentmindedly at a bowl of jok.
Arm goes and joins him, sliding into the hard metal chair opposite him. Pol looks up from his food. Dark circles frame under his eyes, the edges of his nose are red, like he's been crying.
"You alright?" Arm asks.
Pol nods, but his eyes well with tears.
"Was Khun Nhu upset when I wasn't there when he woke up?" Pol asks.
Arm shakes his head. Really, Tankhun had woken up in a rage, angry that Chan had dragged his Pol away from him, that he could tell he hadn't slept as well without Pol being there.
"He was fine," Arm says.
Pol sniffs.
"How are you, though?" Arm continues. Pol pokes at the jok again with his spoon. "Pol, talk to me. Was it about your brother again?"
Pol just nods, sadly. "Yeah."
"Everything okay?"
Pol looks at Arm as if to say: would Chan be waking me up in the middle of the night if it was?
"Bad?" Arm asks.
Pol nods.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Arm takes a sip of his coffee, then pours some of his cup into Pol's half empty one to warm it up.
Pol takes a deep breath and averts his eyes. "He was just really upset again, the staff couldn't calm him down. He was hurting himself, so they called me to try and soothe him. You know, the usual."
"Did it help?" Arm asks.
Pol nods. "It always does. He calmed a bit, enough that they could get him back to his room and sorted."
"I'm sorry," Arm says. His heart sinks. He knows a little of Pol's family situation. Pol has only talked about the particulars once, in the middle of the night after they had all got drunk a few years ago and his inhibitions were lowered. Pol told Arm that his older brother experienced a traumatic brain injury around seven years ago and has needed twenty-four-hour care since. He understood Pol's brother worked in construction and had his accident when working building one of the Theerapanyakun's hotels. Under more empathetic circumstances, that would have demanded compensation, medical bill cover, a pension for dependants. But they don't live under those circumstances, and with the rich… things don't come free. Pol's brother is now cared for in a specialised brain injury facility on the outskirts of Bangkok, expensive, private, comfortable care. And Pol, well, he's here, in service of the family, apparently somehow also part of that deal.
"I just wish I could be there for him more," Pol whispers. "I know being here is the very reason he is able to be where he is, but…"
Arm looks around, seeing if any eyes are on them, then rests his hand on top of Pol's.
"I'm sorry," Arm says.
"It's not your fault."
"I know, but I'm sorry for how it makes you feel."
Pop just shrugs. "Khun Nhu needs me to look after him. Peem deserves the best care."
"I know." Arm begins to pick at his food. His rice has gone a bit cold and claggy.
"And I get extra phone time," Pol continues. "It means I can talk to him more, make sure he's okay. Chan is very understanding."
Arm nods.
Pol forces a smile to his face, breaking the tension "It's for the best," he says. "This is the best thing for him." He takes the spoon again and begins to eat the rest of the jok.
Arm picks at his food, and they continue the rest of their meal in silence.
****
They both get back to their room late that night, having spent a few more hours watching a drama with Tankhun, who insisted he couldn't sleep until they'd watched one more episode. From the slowness of his movements and the heaviness under his eyes, Arm can tell Pol is exhausted. Arm sits on the closed lid of the toilet as Pol washes his face at the sink, his eyes droop as he splashes his cheeks with water.
"I want to try the cage," Pol says, his voice echos in the small bathroom.
"You're tired," Arm replies, pushing himself up off the toilet, and lacing his arms around Pol's waist, resting his head on his back. "I think you need to rest tonight."
"Boss," Pol sniffs, slipping into their dynamic. In the mirror, the bags under his eyes look more prominent. "Please, Boss. I need -"
"You need to rest." Arm rubs his cheek up the notches of Pol's spine. "We need to not introduce anything new when you are so tired."
"I was excited." Pol's voice comes out small, wavering. "We don't have another evening, just us for four days now. I'll hardly see you. I really wanted to try it."
Arm inhales the warm, sweat-tinged smell of Pol's back.
"I know. But good things come to those who wait."
Pol sniffs loudly. "The denial is supposed to come after I have the cage on. We're not supposed to be edged by life before we can even try it."
Arm chuckles against Pol's back, and presses a kiss to the bottom of his neck.
"Clean your teeth and come lie on the bed," Arm says. "Your boss will give you a massage. Get some of that tension out."
Pol nods.
Arm heads out of the bathroom, and gets the massage oil out of the drawer. He chooses a one with a relaxing scent, and a moisturising base. Pol pads out of the bathroom a few moments later, toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. He pulls off his pyjama shirt, drops it on the floor, then flops over the bed with a sigh.
Once he's settled, Arm sits straddled across his thighs, just below Pol's arse, and begins to massage the tense muscles in his shoulder.
"Pressure okay?" Arm asks him, as Pol lets out a low groan.
" 's good, Boss," Pol mumbles. "Is good."
With the heel of his hand, Arm works out a particular stubborn knot just below Pol's shoulder blade. Pol lets out a long exhale.
"Breathe it out," Arm whispers to him, as he presses his thumb against the muscle. "Breathe it out, Pol."
Pol sniffs again, and little tremors run across his shoulders like the undulations of a sound wave.
"Thanks, Boss," he mumbles. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Tenderly, Arm continues massaging him, until his breathing is soft and even, as he's slipped into sleep.
"My good boy," Arm whispers against the now warm and red skin of Pol's back, he smells of eucalyptus and lavender. "You deserve more than what this world has given you, but you are safe here with me, I've got you."
****
Arm leaves the room early the next morning, leaving Pol still asleep. He is assigned to help Chan with the equipment audit over the next few days, alongside being on stakeout surveillance duty again. Due to their conflicting schedules, they won't see each other much over the next four days, and won't be in the room awake at the same time. Pol lies curled up on himself in his sleep, drooling against the pillow, his mouth half open. Arm gets dressed quietly in the bathroom so as not to wake him. On his way out, his eyes track to the brown cardboard box poking out from under the bed, next to the neatly arranged holdalls. Inside is Pol's cock cage.
He also can't wait to see Pol wearing it.
And if life is going to edge them… well he might as well lean into it and make it fun. Trying not to make too much noise, Arm kneels and pulls the box out from under the bed. It's already open. He looked inside when it first arrived, to make sure there was no damage and it was the correct product. Arm pulls the little fabric case out of the paper packaging crumpled around it, slips the plastic cage out of it and rests it in the palm of his hand. It's light, larger than his own, and should be perfectly sized for Pol. The ring to go around his balls is separate, as well as the lock and keys. Arm slides the ring and the cage together and turns the lock, fixing the two pieces into position. He slips his carabiner out of his pocket and loops the keyring around it. Then, he places the cage onto the bedside table. Finding a pen, he writes on a small piece of paper:
T minus four days until your cock is caged ;D
With that Arm leaves the room.
When he gets back later, tired and sweaty after spending hours in the surveillance van with Ken, he finds the cage in the same place on the bedside table. He looks down on his note to find an addition.
I wanked thinking of this after you left this morning, Pol
xoxo
Arm chuckles. This is exactly why Pol needs the cage. He brushes a finger over the scratched indents on the paper, Pol's handwriting is so terrible, it's endearing. His heart flutters at the way Pol has signed his name, as if anybody else would be leaving pervy post-it-notes on their bedside table. Arm adjusts the cage on the table so it is facing straight, and heads into the shower, where he jacks off so hard he sees stars.
The next morning, Pol is still on Tankhun duty, and Arm is scheduled to spend the day with Chan, doing the monthly inspection of their equipment. Arm sits and looks at the paper, and adds:
You need to learn control…
T minus three days until you are locked up.
With that, he leaves the room.
When he returns that evening, exhausted from spending a day cataloguing and organising, he finds another note under the one he left this morning.
I'm trying. Got hard thinking of you this morning.
I didn't jack off, Boss, I promise :(
Pol xoxox
A wad of crumpled paper tissue which Pol has obviously tried to toss into the bathroom bin and missed, begs to differ.
The next morning Arm makes another addition to the note.
Don't hide things from me.
I know you are a good boy, prove it.
T minus two days
He's painfully horny all day, having to keep adjusting himself while Chan and him continue working on the audit. After he's stood up and wiggled for around the fifth time, Chan looks over at him, peering above his reading glasses.
"You got haemorrhoids or something, kid?" he asks.
Arm just looks at him. Chan is intimately familiar with his arsehole, he should know that he doesn't. He always makes sure he gets enough fibre. Arm huffs and sits back down in the chair.
Chan pushes his glasses up his nose. "Well, stop fidgeting, then, you are making me exhausted."
They return to the numbers, until it's all too much and Arm excuses himself to the toilet. Inside the stall, he jacks off furiously into a wad of toilet tissue, biting his lip to keep quiet.
"Fuck…" he says to the empty stall after he has come. The porcelain feels cold under his bare thighs. If he's this horny just thinking about Pol in chastity, he's not sure how he's going to be when he's actually caged.
Arm splashes cold water on his face from the sink, then heads back into the office to continue with the audit.
"Feel better?" Chan asks, as he steps back in.
Arm nods. "Yes, Sir, my stomach was a bit upset."
Chan smiles wryly. "Yeah, right. Now sit down. I need you to concentrate, Arm. Come check my calculations."
When he returns to their room later, there is another addition to the note.
I've been a good boy, Boss.
I miss you, Pol xoxo
Arm has to jack off again in the shower.
The next morning he makes another addition.
I'm so proud of you
T minus one day
(It'll be more comfortable if you shave)
Before he leaves the room, Arm places the electric razor next to the cage.
He returns to the room later to find curled black hairs around the shower drain and on the tile. Arm smiles to himself, then uses the shower to clean them away. Pol has left another note:
Excited for tomorrow
I've missed you, Boss.
(I shaved)
Pol xoxo
Pol will be back early in the morning, after his night shift with Tankhun. Shivering with anticipation, Arm tosses and turns, trying to get to sleep.
He must do eventually as he's woken to a voice hollering next to his ear.
"Arm, wake up! You need to cage me, now. I'm going crazy."
Arm blinks awake and rolls over to see Pol kneeling on the floor next to his bed, his cage in the outstretched palm of his hand.
"I've just woken up," Arm mumbles.
"Boss, please," Pol begs.
Sleepily, Arm holds his arms out to him. "Kiss first," he whispers. "Missed you." Still holding the cage in his hand, Pol dips in for a kiss. His lips are dry, and he smells of Tankhun's moisturiser. Arm opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, savouring the taste of Pol again after what feels like an age. "Go wait for me in the bathroom," Arm continues. "I want you naked when I come in."
"Yes, Boss, thank you Boss." Pol stands to leave, the cage still in his hand.
"Ah ah," Arm chides. "Leave that here."
Pol places the cage down on the bed, then scurries off to the bathroom.
After giving himself a few moments to stretch, wake up, and drink some water, Arm grabs a supply pouch from his bedside drawer and goes to follow Pol to the bathroom.
Pol kneels on the tile in the middle of the small room, head down, breathing hard. Arm looks down to see him half-hard between his legs. He's shaved himself smooth around his pubic bone and around his balls.
Arm almost starts salivating.
"Stand up for me," he says.
Pol obeys, pushing himself up, shaky on his legs like a newborn foal.
"Boss…" Pol starts, still looking down.
Arm closes the distance, and hooks his thumb under Pol's chin so he is looking forwards.
"We are going to take it slow," Arm says. "If you get sore, you tell me. If it gets too much and you want unlocked, tell me. There is no set time you need to stay caged."
"I want to be good," Pol whines.
"You are so good, Pol. You are my good boy. I want to make sure you are safe and happy, though."
Pol nods, eyes wide.
"I'll unlock you every day for hygiene," Arm continues. "And I'll leave a spare key in my bedside drawer, in case you need to get it off in an emergency."
"Okay boss," Pol whispers. "I'm ready."
Arm unlocks the cage, pulling the two pieces apart. He sets them on the side of the sink, then reaches into his pouch to pull out a tube of cream.
"What's that for?" Pol asks.
"So you don't chafe," Arm says. "Trust me, I've been in and put people in chastity a lot."
Pol nods and then hisses as Arm rubs the cool moisturiser around his balls towards and then up and over his shaft. Pol starts to chub up in his touch. Arm loves this aspect of chastity, the care-taking, the sense of wonderful protective ownership he feels. He slips the ring around Pol's balls. Pol screws his face up, and exhales.
"You okay?" Arm asks.
Pol nods. "Yeah, keep going."
Arm picks up the cage and slides it over Pol's shaft, it's a bit of squeeze with him being half aroused, but it clicks into the ring around his balls. Arm slides the lock into position, turns the key, and steps back to marvel at the view.
Pol looks stunning in the cage, the flush of his cock contrasting with the black material of the cage. He's already starting to soften, the cage holding him in place
"Oh fuck," Pol whispers. He brings his hand down to cup himself over the cage.
"Is that a good, oh fuck?"
"Yeah, just, wow didn't think I would find this so hot." Pol lets his hand fall to his side.
Arm reaches out and cups the cage over Pol's cock.
"Who does this belong to?" he says, shaking the keys with his other hand.
A visible shudder undulates through Pol's core.
"To you, Boss," Pol whispers. "It belongs to you."
"Such a good boy," Arm places a hand on Pol's shoulder, easing him down. "Get on your knees, show your Boss how well you suck his cock."
Pol drops to his knees, then winces as his balls press against the tiles. Arm pushes his pyjama pants down, freeing himself. He's already half hard from watching Pol. Pol licks his lips, and then leans in, rubbing his face against Arm's crotch, pressing kisses down his length. With his hand, he reaches back to fondle Arm's balls, then traces up his perineum to his hole. Then, with his other hand, he lines up Arm's cock and takes him into the warm wetness of his mouth. Arm looks down to see Pol's cock trying to get hard again but not being able to. Pol whines around his cock, sucking him down to the root and working his tongue around.
Arm cards his hands through Pol's hair, guiding his head back and forwards with the movement. Pol laps happily at him, loud and unabashed.
" - face," Pol mumbles out around him.
Arm slows bucking his hips into Pol's mouth.
"You okay?" He asks.
Pol nods, then pulls his mouth off Arm's cock.
"Come on my face," he says. "Mark me, claim me. I want to be yours."
Arm nearly comes there and then. He manages to stop himself, growls and wraps his hand around his cock, and begins to stroke it in long lazy movements. Pol looks up at him with big, wide eyes, his tongue flicked out of his mouth, cheeks flushed.
"Fuck," Arm gasps out, and increases the pace of his movements. He looks down at Pol's cock immobilised in the cage, and it's enough. The heat building in his abdomen reaches a crest, then he's coming across Pol's cheeks, down over his chin, small beads of pearl gathering in his dark eyelashes.
Pol gasps and whines, his hand clasped over his caged cock. Arm drops to his knees in front of him, grabs some toilet paper from the dispenser and leans in to kiss Pol's forehead. He then wipes the come off his face with the tissues.
"Good for you, Boss?" Pol asks, his tone floaty and far away, signalling he's deep in the head-space.
"So good," Arm replies. "You are such a good boy."
Pool shifts against the tile. "It's a bit nippy," he says.
Arm brings his hands around to cup Pol's cock, he's so warm through the cage. "It's because I'm working you up," Arm whispers. "A bit of discomfort is normal, but if it gets too much let me know."
Pol nods back at him. Arm pulls his pyjama trousers and holds a hand out to help Pol up off the floor. He's shivering slightly from his nakedness and the cold floor of the bathroom. Arm wraps him in his arms, holding him close, rubbing up his back in large circles.
"I'm so tired, Boss," Pol whispers. "It's been a long night, a long week, a long month…"
Arm holds him tighter, then guides him back through to the bedroom. Pol still shivers, so much that Arm worries he's starting to drop. He eases Pol down so he's sitting on the edge of his bed, and passes him his flask of water, Arm eases the straw to Pol's mouth and he takes a sip.
"You okay?" Arm asks, kneeling down on the floor in front of Pol. "The cage feels okay?"
Pol nods again. "Feels good. I like it. I'm just -"
Arm dips down and presses a kiss to Pol's exposed knee, the hairs there tickle the end of his nose.
"You are just exhausted, baby," Arm whispers. "Let me." Arm lifts Pol's long legs, swinging him around onto the bed. He pulls the blanket over him, fluffs the pillow under his head.
Pol sighs, letting himself relax into the mattress.
"When the canteen opens," Pol whispers. "Can you bring me some toast back? I'm too tired. I need to sleep before we are back on shift again."
Arm leans down, pushes Pol's hair out of his eyes, and presses a kiss to the crown of his head.
"Of course."
He lets Pol sleep, and gets dressed for the day, heading down to the canteen for breakfast, making sure to pack a sandwich bag to bring Pol's toast back in.
"You look happy," Ken says, as they stand in line for breakfast. "Did Pol suck you off this morning or something?"
Arm just continues spooning jok into his bowl, and smiles to himself.