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The underground club beneath Bangkok’s glittering skyline was a world few ever saw. Invitation-only, guarded by men with earpieces and concealed weapons, it catered to the city’s most dangerous elite, politicians with dirty hands, crime lords in tailored suits, and heirs who burned through fortunes like matches. Tonight, the air was thick with expensive perfume, cigar smoke, and the low pulse of bass that vibrated through Kant’s ribs.
He was here for one reason: intel on a smuggling ring that had ties to his current mark. Dressed in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos, dark pants, and a gun holster hidden beneath his jacket, Kant looked exactly like he belonged, another dangerous, beautiful predator circling the room. His sharp eyes scanned faces while he nursed a whiskey, playing the part of a tattoo artist who moved in the right (wrong) circles.
Then he saw him.
Ray moved through the crowd like a storm that hadn’t decided whether to destroy everything or just drown in it. Expensive silk shirt half-unbuttoned, hair tousled from running frustrated hands through it, cheeks flushed from too many drinks. Even from across the room, Kant could see the chaos in those dark eyes — the kind of reckless hunger that got people killed… or fucked senseless.
Ray’s gaze locked onto him almost immediately. A slow, predatory smile curved his pretty lips as he abandoned the group of fake friends he’d come with and started walking straight toward Kant like a man on a mission.
“Well, fuck me,” Ray said the moment he was close enough, voice low and already a little slurred. He leaned against the bar beside Kant, close enough that their arms brushed. “You look like trouble. The good kind.”
Kant raised an eyebrow, that dangerous smirk tugging at his mouth. “You always open with that line, or am I special?”
Ray laughed, soft and filthy. He let his eyes drag slowly down Kant’s body, lingering on the visible tattoos, the strong line of his throat, the way the holster strap pressed against his chest under the open collar. “You’re definitely special. I’ve been bored out of my mind tonight until I saw you standing here looking like you could ruin someone’s life in the best way.”
Kant took a slow sip of whiskey, buying time. The mission. He needed connections, names, access. This rich, drunk boy might actually know people. But the way Ray was looking at him, shameless, needy, already imagining Kant’s hands on him was doing dangerous things to Kant’s focus.
“You seem like the type who gets ruined on purpose,” Kant murmured, turning to face him fully. Their heights were close enough that he could see the way Ray’s pupils dilated at the low tone.
Ray bit his lower lip, stepping even closer until their chests nearly touched. “Guilty. So… are you going to do something about it, stranger? Or do I have to beg?”
The bratty challenge in his voice sent heat straight to Kant’s cock. He could smell the alcohol on Ray’s breath mixed with something sweeter…. expensive cologne and pure want.
Kant’s hand moved before he could stop himself, fingers brushing Ray’s jaw, tilting his face up. “Careful what you ask for. I don’t do gentle when I’m tempted.”
Ray’s breath hitched. His hand boldly slid down Kant’s side, fingertips grazing the edge of the gun holster. “Good. I don’t want gentle. I want to feel you tomorrow.”
Fuck. Kant’s control frayed.
He leaned in, lips brushing Ray’s ear. “You have no idea what you’re starting, pretty boy.”
“Then show me,” Ray whispered back, voice trembling with excitement.
Kant didn’t waste another second. He caught Ray’s wrist and pulled him through the crowd toward the private VIP corridors. The security recognized the vibe and let them pass with a knowing nod. This place was built for exactly this kind of indulgence.
The moment the heavy door of the VIP suite closed behind them, Ray was on him.
He pushed Kant against the wall, kissing him like he was starving — messy, desperate, tongue sliding against Kant’s with zero shame. Kant groaned into the kiss, hands gripping Ray’s waist, pulling their bodies flush. Ray was already hard, grinding against Kant’s thigh with a needy whimper.
“Fuck, you taste good,” Ray gasped between kisses, hands fumbling with Kant’s shirt buttons. “Been thinking about your cock since I saw you.”
Kant chuckled darkly, spinning them so Ray was the one pinned to the wall. “Such a filthy mouth on a rich boy like you.” He nipped at Ray’s jaw, then lower, sucking a mark onto his neck that made Ray moan loud enough to echo in the room. “You always throw yourself at dangerous strangers?”
“Only when they look like they can actually handle me,” Ray shot back, voice breathy. His hands slipped under Kant’s shirt, nails dragging lightly down his abs. “And you… you look like you were made to fuck me stupid.”
Kant’s hips rolled forward, letting Ray feel exactly how hard he was. “Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to stop myself from giving you exactly what you’re begging for.”
Ray’s eyes sparkled with challenge and pure lust. “Then don’t stop. I want it. Want you deep inside me until I forget my own name.”
The dirty words snapped something in Kant. He kissed Ray again, slower this time, deeper, savoring the way Ray melted against him, all that bratty energy turning pliant and needy under real dominance. Kant’s hands roamed, unbuttoning Ray’s shirt fully and pushing it off his shoulders. The sight of Ray’s smooth, flushed skin made his mouth water.
“Beautiful,” Kant murmured, lips trailing down Ray’s collarbone, tongue flicking over a nipple. Ray arched with a broken moan, fingers threading into Kant’s hair.
“Please… touch me more.”
Kant obliged, dropping to his knees right there in the VIP room. He looked up at Ray with that signature dangerous smirk as he opened Ray’s pants and freed his leaking cock.
“Fuck— wait, I don’t even know your name,” Ray laughed breathlessly.
“Kant,” he answered, voice rough, before swallowing Ray down in one smooth motion.
Ray cried out, head falling back against the wall. “Shit— Kant! Your mouth… fuck, it’s so good—”
Kant worked him with slow, wet, deliberate strokes of his tongue, humming around the length in his mouth. One hand stroked what he couldn’t take, the other gripping Ray’s hip to keep him from thrusting too wildly. Ray’s moans were loud and shameless, echoing beautifully. Every filthy praise that fell from his lips only made Kant suck harder.
“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Ray panted, looking down with hazy eyes. “On your knees for me… but I bet you’d rather have me on mine, huh?”
Kant pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him firmly. “Later. Right now I want to hear you fall apart.”
He took Ray deep again, relaxing his throat, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact. Ray’s legs started shaking. His dirty talk grew more broken.
“I’m gonna– Kant, I’m close– fuck, your throat feels incredible–”
Kant pulled back just enough to speak, voice hoarse. “Come for me, baby. Let me taste how much you need this.”
Ray came with a loud, shuddering moan, hips jerking as Kant swallowed every drop, milking him through it with gentle sucks until Ray was whimpering from sensitivity.
Kant stood, kissing Ray deeply so he could taste himself. Ray melted into it, arms wrapping around Kant’s neck like he never wanted to let go.
“Your turn,” Ray whispered against his lips, already reaching for Kant’s belt. “I want your cock in my mouth. Want to choke on it.”
Kant groaned at the words, helping Ray drop to his knees. The sight of the spoiled rich boy on his knees, lips swollen and eyes glassy with lust, was almost too much.
Ray wasted no time. He pulled Kant’s pants down just enough, eyes widening at the sight. “Fuck… you’re big.” He licked his lips, then looked up with that bratty smirk. “Think I can take it all?”
“Try me,” Kant challenged, voice low.
Ray did. He took Kant eagerly, messily — sucking, licking, using his hand where his mouth couldn’t reach. The sounds were obscene. Kant’s hand rested in Ray’s hair, not forcing, just guiding gently as pleasure built hot and heavy in his gut.
“That’s it… just like that,” Kant praised, voice rough. “Such a good boy when you want something. Look at you, sucking me so eagerly in a stranger’s VIP room. You love this, don’t you?”
Ray moaned around him, the vibration making Kant’s hips twitch. The eye contact was intense — Ray’s eyes watering but determined, full of filthy hunger.
Kant felt himself getting close embarrassingly fast. “Ray… I’m gonna come—”
Ray pulled back just enough to gasp, “On my tongue. Please.”
Kant cursed and gave in, stroking himself the last few times as Ray opened his mouth, tongue out. He came hard, watching himself paint Ray’s tongue and lips. Ray swallowed greedily, then licked him clean with soft, almost reverent strokes.
They stayed like that for a moment — breathing hard, foreheads pressed together after Kant pulled Ray back to his feet.
“You’re dangerous,” Kant murmured, kissing the corner of Ray’s mouth.
Ray smiled, lazy and satisfied but still hungry. “You have no idea. This is just the beginning.”
He reached down and felt Kant’s cock, already showing signs of life again. “Think you can fuck me properly now, Kant? I want you inside me… slow at first. I want to feel every inch.”
Kant’s eyes darkened with fresh desire. He backed Ray toward the large velvet couch in the center of the VIP room.
“Get on your back, legs spread,” he ordered softly, voice full of promise. “I’m going to take my time with you.”
Ray’s breath caught at the command, but he obeyed with that signature bratty little smirk, backing up until his knees hit the velvet couch. He dropped onto it gracefully, sprawling back against the cushions like he was made for this — legs parting invitingly, one knee bent up as he looked at Kant with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Like this?” Ray asked, voice already husky. He ran a hand down his own chest, teasing over his nipples, then lower, wrapping loose fingers around his half-hard cock. “Come on, Kant. Don’t make me wait. I’ve been wet for you since the moment I saw that holster.”
Kant stood there for a second, just drinking him in — the flushed skin, the way Ray’s chest rose and fell with anticipation, the shameless way he offered himself. Something tightened in Kant’s chest that had nothing to do with the mission. This wasn’t just a pretty distraction anymore.
He shed the rest of his clothes, keeping only the gun holster strapped across his bare chest because Ray’s eyes kept drifting to it with obvious hunger. Kant grabbed the small packet of lube from his wallet (always prepared) and climbed over Ray, settling between those spread thighs.
“You’re impossible,” Kant murmured, leaning down to kiss him deeply. It wasn’t rushed this time. It was slow, exploratory, tongues sliding together as Kant coated his fingers. “Talking so filthy but looking at me like you need to be held together.”
Ray shivered under him, arms wrapping around Kant’s neck. “Maybe I do,” he whispered against Kant’s lips, suddenly vulnerable for a split second before the brat came back. “Now shut up and finger me open. I want your cock.”
Kant chuckled low, pressing one slick finger against Ray’s entrance. “Bossy even when you’re under me.” He pushed in slowly, savoring the tight heat and the way Ray’s mouth fell open on a moan. “But you clench so sweetly around me. Greedy little hole.”
Ray arched, pushing down onto the finger. “More. Give me another. I can take it.”
Kant added a second finger, scissoring gently, curling them until he found that spot that made Ray cry out and clutch at his shoulders. He kept the pace sensual, fucking Ray open with steady strokes while kissing along his jaw, his throat, sucking soft marks that would bloom tomorrow.
“Fuck! right there,” Ray gasped, hips rolling to meet every thrust of Kant’s fingers. “You’re so good at this… making me feel it everywhere. I bet your cock is gonna ruin me.”
“Watch your mouth,” Kant teased, nipping his earlobe, “or I’ll make you beg louder.”
He added a third finger, stretching Ray carefully, eyes locked on the other man’s face the entire time. Ray looked wrecked already — lips swollen, eyes glassy, cheeks burning red. Every moan and whimper went straight to Kant’s cock.
“Please, Kant…” Ray finally broke, voice trembling with need. “I’m ready. Fuck me. I need you inside me now.”
Kant pulled his fingers out, slicked himself generously, and lined up. He pushed in slow,inch by inch, groaning at the tight, velvety heat enveloping him. Ray’s head tipped back, a long, broken moan spilling out as Kant bottomed out.
“Shit… you’re big,” Ray breathed, nails digging lightly into Kant’s back. “Feels so full. Move, baby. Let me feel you.”
Kant started thrusting, deep, rolling strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside Ray. Their bodies moved together like they’d done this a hundred times, sweat-slick skin sliding, breaths mingling. Kant kept most of his weight on his forearms, caging Ray in, eyes never leaving his face.
“Look at me,” Kant whispered when Ray’s eyes fluttered shut. “Want to see you while I fuck you.”
Ray’s gaze snapped back, dark and desperate. “Harder… but don’t stop looking. Fuck!... you feel incredible…. So deep.”
The dirty talk flowed easily between them as the pace gradually built.
“You’re so tight around me,” Kant groaned, snapping his hips a little sharper. “Taking my cock like you were made for it. Such a perfect, needy boy.”
Ray moaned loudly, legs wrapping tighter around Kant’s waist. “Yeah? You like fucking rich boys who throw themselves at you? Like how wet and open I am for a stranger?”
Kant thrust deeper in response, angling to hit Ray’s prostate on every stroke. “I like how loud you get. How you’re shaking for me already. Bet no one’s ever fucked you this good.”
Ray’s answer dissolved into a string of curses and moans. His hands roamed Kant’s back, tracing tattoos, gripping the holster strap like an anchor. The leather creaked under his fingers with every thrust.
They stayed like that for a long time, face to face, breathing each other in, Kant grinding deep and slow before picking up speed again. The pleasure built steadily, hot and overwhelming.
“Turn over for me,” Kant eventually murmured, voice rough. He pulled out gently and helped Ray onto his hands and knees, chest pressed to the couch back, ass up.
Kant slid back in from behind, one hand braced on Ray’s hip, the other reaching around to stroke him in time with his thrusts. The new angle pulled louder, filthier sounds from Ray.
“Oh my god!!! Kant!.. fuck me deeper,” Ray begged, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Your cock is hitting everything… don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
“You feel so fucking good,” Kant growled against his shoulder, biting down gently. “Gonna make you come on my cock. Want to feel you squeeze me when you lose it.”
He kept one arm wrapped around Ray’s chest, holding him close while fucking him with deep, sensual rolls of his hips. The position felt intimate despite how filthy it was, Kant’s mouth on Ray’s neck, whispering praise and dirty promises between kisses.
Ray came first with a loud, shuddering cry, spilling over Kant’s fist and onto the couch. His whole body clenched tight around Kant, trembling through the waves.
Kant followed soon after, burying himself deep and groaning Ray’s name as he came hard, hips jerking with each pulse. He stayed inside, rocking them both through the aftershocks, pressing soft kisses along Ray’s spine.
They collapsed together onto the wide couch, Kant pulling Ray into his arms so they were facing each other. For a few minutes there was only heavy breathing and the occasional lazy kiss.
Ray traced one of Kant’s tattoos with a fingertip, unusually quiet. “That was… intense,” he murmured eventually, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect you to look at me like that the whole time.”
Kant brushed damp hair off Ray’s forehead, letting his thumb linger on his cheek. “Couldn’t help it. You’re louder than you are bratty when you’re falling apart. It’s addictive.”
Ray laughed softly, pressing closer until their foreheads touched. “Don’t act sweet now. You’re still the dangerous stranger with the gun.” But his voice was soft, almost shy. “Though… I wouldn’t mind if this wasn’t just one night.”
Kant’s chest did that strange tightening again. He kissed Ray slow and deep, one hand stroking down his back soothingly.
“Who says it has to be?” he whispered against swollen lips. “You still owe me your number… and maybe round two when you’re sober.”
Ray grinned, nuzzling into Kant’s neck. “Deal. But only if you keep the holster on next time.”