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Kinn had a habit of having a dram of whisky after sex. He liked slowly stretching out the kinks from a good couple of rounds, soothed from a shower, and gazing out over the view his rooms provided him, gently sipping on a couple of fingers of scotch.
This was always after he’d dismissed whichever boy he’d been having fun with.
He never liked any sort of post-coital lingering affection or interaction. He usually stood alone, naked or wearing a silk robe, and let his mind wander until his glass was empty.
Tonight however, he was more focused on the view right in front of him. He sipped his usual scotch, this time propped up against the bed, slowly stroking the hair of the head resting on his thigh.
Porsche lay across his legs, having dozed off after a particularly sloppy exchange of blowjobs.
Kinn pushed back dark locks and stared down at the soft handsome face slumped against him, nose slightly smushed into his muscle. Porsche had curled a hand around Kinn’s, and before he’d fallen asleep he’d been drawing little loops in Kinn’s leg hair.
Kinn had never even really conceived of the sort of intimacy Porsche shared with him so endlessly. Even with Marsh, one of the longest standing boys he had appointments with, there was an emotional gap.
Even at his most open and unfettered with Kinn, Kinn felt no desire to reciprocate, keeping himself behind a steel facade that Marsh touched and spoke to. It never really felt lonely because he had no desire to reach out, so didn’t feel the loss of not doing so.
Physical contact was sexual, the men he fucked usually went for the same erotic places, focused on pleasure. Porsche had once claimed he knew morse code and tapped out a rhythm against one of Kinn’s arsecheeks.
It was entirely nonsensical and free of any sensual artifice, and one of the most stupid things Kinn had ever witnessed; Kinn had hidden his silent laughter in a pillow and let Porsche continue his game.
It was why he loved Porsche so much.
When they were alone, Kinn felt like the facade had turned into film, porous and flammable. It had always been that way with them, even when they first met.
____________________________
Porsche was going to have words with P’Chaem. He knew he wasn’t the best employee, hadn’t really raked it in for her, but he didn’t think she would dump this sort of client on him.
Max Kanasut was not the sort of client Porsche usually engaged with. First off, he was male. Porsche wasn’t actually that picky, but his broader body type and height usually meant it was women who went for him, both personally and professionally.
He was obscenely wealthy. Porsche knew that the richer you were, the less rules applied to you. As such his clients were often nouveau riche or career types; people who had acquired wealth, who wanted easy sex at the drop of a hat that wouldn’t affect anything in their lives.
Porsche had had a few one night gigs with the inherited wealth circle of the social elite, and some of them were perfectly nice, the soft cushion in their bubble meant they could afford to be nice and generous to everyone.
But the ones with serious money to play with, and who knew how to play hard with it; he tried to steer well clear of them.
This Max seemed the pure embodiment, and it made Porsche nervous. He was used to either straight to the hotel room evenings, or a short dinner and flirt precursor.
As he sat in the thumping club, high in a VIP booth that sank deep into the shadows even as the mood lighting cast a pitchy glow, he felt very out of his depth.
He kept a pleasant smile on his face. Cherry might not think he was much of an escort but he wasn’t a total novice. He knew how to best present himself and his assets and one of his better defences was his charm.
Max had had him picked up from the agency by a bodyguard in a typical SUV, and Porsche had been walked up to the booth, Max’s attention brought by a firm “the escort has arrived sir”.
It had been only the first warning. Porsche had slid in next to Max as the man had roughly tugged him by the waist and gestured vaguely to the other people sat in the booth. The music was too loud for Porsche to hear the names of half of them, and he was also sure that less than half were even sober enough to try and talk back to him if he had heard.
Max had set to casually pawing at Porsche whilst also totally ignoring him and chatting with one of the only other coherent people round the table. They seemed to be talking business, though how much they could actually achieve whilst downing shots constantly was debatable to Porsche.
As he subtly tried to remove Max’s hand from where it was creeping under his trousers towards his crotch, he resigned himself to a shitty night.
Maybe tomorrow he would take the evening off work and stay in with Porsché, who had just finished his second year of university and had decided he wanted to spend the downtime becoming one with his desk chair and playing fantasy games.
Hopefully he could find a sturdy spatula and prise his little brother from his cocoon.
He kept this domestic future in mind as Max changed tactics and slithered up his shirt, sending discomforting zings down Porsche’s spine as he roughly thumbed a nipple. Porsche lasted a couple of minutes waiting for him to get bored before he cracked and dragged Max’s hand out himself.
The man looked round in irritation. Porsche thought he was going to get some sort of reprimand looking at the irritation on the man’s face, but Max seemed to shake it off and relax.
“Porsche, gorgeous, are you not having a good time? Here, you haven’t even finished your drink.”
The overly sweet rum and coke that Max had poured for him sat gathering condensation as the ice melted away. It was mostly watery rum now, Porsche having barely sipped at it the whole time. Mostly for something to do besides stare out across the club and count down the minutes.
Max grabbed one of the bottles stacked on the low table and poured a hefty glug of spirit into Porsche’s glass. It looked like vodka.
Not exactly what he would want to refill his rum and coke.
Max topped it off with more coke and lifted it to Porsche’s lips, pulling it away when Porsche reached for it himself. Porsche felt Max’s eyes burn as he leaned forward and took the straw into his mouth and gulped down a mouthful of overly sweet alcohol.
As a bartender this drink was an affront to everything Porsche stood for. As a person looking to make it through a gig without punching his client in the dick, Porsche knew he would need a couple more of these.
“That’s it. Now we can have some fun. Let loose a bit aye?” Max pulled Porsche closer to him, the abrupt move forcing Porsche to put a hand out to stabilise himself, clutching at Max’s thigh for balance.
“What a sultry little thing you’ve got there.” The guy who Max had been chatting to commented, smiling smugly and leaning back to gaze at Porsche as he adjusted himself in Max’s hold. Porsche kept a pleasant look on his face, but took another long pull of his drink. P’Chaem was going to pay for springing this new client on him.
“Yes, Porsche came highly recommended, and so far I’m not disappointed. Feisty looking thing isn’t he.”
Max grinned, hand once again wandering to Porsche’s stomach, the light touching making Porsche clench his abs against the sensation.
Porsche murmured a half hearted thanks, already hoping Max wasn’t thinking about requesting him again. There was only so much vodka in the world. He finished his drink off and set it back on the table, only for the man next to Max to refill it surprisingly quickly.
He nodded his thanks, and picked up the glass again, tasting it. Thankfully this guy seemed to know how to put together a basic mixer, and Porsche sipped at it happily, turning to watch the various people dancing up on each other on the floor below.
Max seemed content petting at his stomach like he was an errant cat, and the sensation was weird but better than where his hands had been before, so Porsche let it happen.
Before too long Porsche’s drink was once again empty and he didn’t even glance down as it was slipped from his hand and returned full to the brim.
He drank as he watched a few people in particular. One guy looked like he was far too sober for his group of friends, and had the tired bored aura of someone sticking it out. One couple near the barrier of the sound booth seemed to think they were totally alone, because one had fully stuck her hand up the other’s bra and was massaging at it as they danced and kissed.
He glanced over and saw Max was also preoccupied with the dancing couple, eyes fixed on where one girl’s shirt was rucked up to allow the other’s hand access. In fact his hand was moving across Porsche’s stomach in time with what they could see of the girl’s.
Porsche made a small sound of disgust and smacked his drink down on the table. Max startled slightly, his hand stilling before reaching up and tilting Porsche’s head towards him.
“Still feeling a bit prim, are we sweetheart? Now that won’t do, let’s get you another refill and get you relaxed.”
Porsche thanked his high tolerance, both for alcohol and for creeps, as he drew focus back to the booth and away from the dance floor.
Max must have poured this one, he thought as he took his first pull. It was overly sweet again, cloying on his tongue.
“Why don’t you sit in between us baby, that way we can talk and you won’t feel left out and unappreciated?”
Porsche really didn’t want to be subjected to the boring talk that Max seemed to want to indulge in at a club at midnight on a Sunday, but submitted to slotting in between the men and trying to look mildly interested.
His new position caused the lights to shine differently into his eyes, and he stared forwards trying to get the waves of strobing light to stop bending weirdly. His drink slipped slightly, the condensation making the glass slippery.
Max chuckled as he caught the drink and put it on the table. “Whoops, wouldn’t want an accident, would we precious?”
Porsche nodded vaguely, head slightly woolly from the drinks. Maybe he wouldn’t have another, P’Chaem would crucify him if he got drunk in front of a client and jeopardised their agency’s reputation.
He felt Max’s hand softly tip his head onto his shoulder and Porsche acquiesced. Maybe he could spend a few quiet moments like this and refocus.
Porsche frowned as his eyes slid shut. It felt like Max’s hand was on his leg. But one was already around his waist, and the other was just adjusting the position of his head. The hand slid up and cupped his inner thigh, the thin material of his trouser doing nothing to mask the heat of the palm.
Porsche twitched and made an angry noise of complaint. His hands felt like all the weight of his arms had fallen into the tips of his fingers. He felt so light and floaty, but weighted down and submerged at the same time.
One hand that Porsche thought belonged to Max tilted his head back, and a thumb pressed at his mouth. His jaw fell open complacently and he tasted sweat and tang as the thumb stroked at his tongue.
“I’m very pleased with this one.” He could feel Max’s voice rumble in his ear, the words slightly disconnected.
“A little rougher than you usually go for.” The hand that stroked at his inner thigh moved higher and pulled his legs apart slightly.
“Yes but look at him. Sweet as a kitten, and just so delectable.”
A wet mouth covered his and a tongue roughly shoved its way in, causing Porsche to whine. His head felt full of cotton, and whatever was happening was beginning to frighten Porsche. His limbs were so drained, and he felt the edge of panic coat him as he realised this wasn’t a normal drunken stupor.
He hadn’t even had that much to drink.
Porsche knew he must have blacked out at one point, as the fresh air hit his face and gave him enough energy to blearily open one eye. He blankly thought that he didn’t remember the club having a glass ceiling.
As he came round slightly more, he knew he wasn’t in the club; he was outside, draped in someone’s arms, head left lolling on a shoulder.
Everything felt numb, he couldn’t tell if he was standing properly or totally slumped.
“Doll’s finally awake. Took a little sleep in the car, didn’t ya?”
Porsche could barely comprehend what was being said over his head, and every shape was streaky in his vision. But he was at least awake, which was more than he was before.
“Let’s just go in; I have a standing reservation here, we can go straight up with sleeping beauty and no-one will disturb us. Did you book him for the whole night?”
“No, but look at him. He was sweet as anything in the club wasn’t he. I don’t think he’ll mind some overtime; not by the time we’re done with him. And we won’t have to worry about any of those pesky hard limit rules; we can ruin him.”
Porsche felt tingling in his fingers as he was dragged through a very shiny doorway blazing with lights. As the stars faded and his view was replaced with a polished stone ceiling, nausea rose up and centred itself in his throat.
His muscles felt strung out and ropey. As they crossed what felt like a similarly polished floor the only reason he didn’t slip and collapse was the strategically placed hands of either men holding him upright. As they passed beneath a particularly bright collection of lights Porsche hissed.
The pain lanced through him, disorienting him but also focusing his brain from beneath the miasma that enveloped him. He twisted his head, blinking spots out his eyes before catching the gaze of a pair of dragon eyes. The dark tone of them soothed him before they were gone as Porsche was walked onwards.
The floor felt less firm as they entered what had to be a lift. A hand hovered over his vision and it cupped his cheek and angled his head. The motion caused his nausea to rise and subside.
Porsche felt the lift rise slowly and counted in his head, breathing slow and collecting everything that was left in him.
Then he struck out.
__________________________
Kinn liked doing business at this hotel. It had an excellent chef, even for a Theerapanyakun run establishment, and was well-placed for a lot of his international legitimate business deals.
He felt victorious as he left the conference room and took the lift down to the reception area. His guard on point, Khan, exited first and subtly indicated to proceed.
As Kinn crossed the reception towards where Ton should have pulled the car up, his eye caught on some people entering the hotel.
He vaguely recognised the man on the left, the prodigal Kanasut son, a typical silver spoon brat who thought inheriting a business was the same as building it up himself. Kinn had never done business with him, and most of the people in their circles who had were regretting it, especially in the last few financial quarters.
Whatever Max was doing at one of his hotels was beneath Kinn’s attention; by the looks of it, putting one of his drunk friends up for the night.
The obviously smashed man the other two were holding upright must have hit the bottle pretty hard to be this drunk this early in the evening.
Kinn sneered slightly. He had little respect for the buffoons who ran about Bangkok like it was their own little playground, even if most of them were some of his most dedicated clients for whatever their drug of choice was.
The man’s head swung from where it had been tilted up to the ceiling, and as he strode past them he caught the man’s eyes.
They were blown to the edges, shiny pupils gazing out at him almost unseeing. They lay in a delicately sculpted face, captivating features crumpled by a confused frown.
Then those searching eyes were gone, pulled away as Max and his other friend whisked the man past and off to the lifts, neatly getting in the one Kinn had exited, the doors sliding closed as Kinn spied the sad discomforting frown spread into a grimace across the man’s face.
Kinn slowed, a frown spreading across his own face. Max probably knew a hundred druggy playboys who could have tweaked out too early and needed a place to come down. But that face, apart from being obscenely beautiful, looked scared.
And his clothes, Kinn realised. Plain shirt and high waisted trousers; stylishly worn, but nowhere near the cut of the brand labels that rich kids wore twice and then threw away.
Kinn didn’t like it.
As Khan turned and looked to him, questioning why his boss had stopped in the middle of hotel reception, Kinn decided.
“Khan.” The man straightened to attention, military background not allowing even an inch of relaxed spine.
“Send Mok, get me the room number of Max Kanasut. Tell Mint to keep the car running. The rest of you, come with me.”
He spun around and headed back to the lifts. He eyed the floor number and watched it rise to 58. He turned to Tine on his left and pointed at the display.
“Stay here. If that number changes before we get to floor 58, comm us the new floor number immediately.”
“Uhh, yes boss!” Tine nodded and stayed behind, eyes fixed on the display as Kinn and Khan entered the lift.
As Kinn pressed for floor 58 Khan spoke up.
“Trouble, Boss Kinn?”
Kinn scowled. “I hope not. Or I will be very displeased at the quality of guest that we’ve been letting stay here.”
They’d made it up to 57 when Tine chimed in from the comms. “Boss, the lift’s gone up to 61.”
Khan replied affirmatively as they reached 58 and the lift doors opened. Kinn closed them immediately and pressed for 61.
The wait for those three floors seemed longer than the rest of the trip up. He rushed through the gap of the doors as soon as they had opened wide enough and turned to the lift that had carried the three other men. The doors were closed, but the floor number still matched and Kinn had been right behind them, there was no time for anyone to be able to slip away down a corridor without being seen.
So they had to be in there.
Kinn pressed the button to open the doors, half hoping to only come across three coked up rich kids. The sight that greeted him knocked him for six.
His gaze went from the body crumpled on the floor, to the two standing, one holding the other by the arm, twisting it up against their back to press them against the mirrored wall.
Completely disheveled, shirt almost completely ripped open, chest heaving unevenly from exertion, face flashing in sheer fury.
Kinn shuddered. Falling to his knees right now would be a bad plan, he told himself.
But as he stared at the man who he’d thought to perhaps save, face wrathful as his arms bulged to spin his prey round and slam it back against the glass, he felt it was the only thing he wanted to do.
The man seemed to instinctively catch Kinn’s eye, cat eyes blazing with delirium and palpable fury. Kinn felt rapturous.
Max, who looked entirely shaken by the sudden turn of events, and extremely afraid of whatever the man might do next to land him in a similar state to the bloodied lump of flesh on the floor, also caught Kinn’s eye.
“Khun Kinn! Kinn, help me!” Max struggled against the press of the man’s arm against his throat.
Kinn looked at the askew stance of the man holding Max; he had the suspicion that he was less leaning on Max to hurt him, and more to keep himself upright. Adrenalin is a hell of a drug, but it isn’t very long lasting.
He was proven right as Max got the upper hand and managed to shove the guy off him, grabbing him by the throat and hair and snarling into his face.
“You little whore! How dare you! I am going to fucking bury you.”
Kinn started forwards as Max grabbed the guy’s face, wrenching at the man’s jaw as he hissed, “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be so loose and ruined you won’t even be able to suck cock for the rest of your pathetic lowly life.”
Kinn saw black. He gestured to Khan.
“Khan. Get rid of the trash. Now.”
Max smirked, “Oh don’t worry Kinn, I have plans for this fucking slut that-ACK!”
Max’s eyes widened as Khan struck out and clocked him about the face, stunning him. As he reeled back, Kinn darted forwards and steadied the rapidly lagging man.
He pulled the man out the lift and nodded to Khan who was steadily grinding his heel into Max’s face as he lay prone and wriggling on the lift floor.
“Take the rubbish out through the basement garage and come back up to my usual suite with a medical kit. Tell Tine and Mok to come up right away to establish a perimeter.”
Khan bowed his head and hit the button for the garage. Kinn only hoped that not many people wanted to use the lift right now.
He turned his attention to the barely awake man in his arms. He noticed two things.
One, he was even more ethereally beautiful up close. Two, this man must have some serious chutzpah to be able to disarm and beat two men bigger than him whilst completely drugged.
He lifted a hand and ran a finger down a smooth cheek. And then felt intensely creepy for doing so. He patted the guy’s cheek instead, hoping to rouse him enough to get him back into the lift and up to his suite.
No such luck. Kinn hoisted the man up as much as he could and half dragged him into the lift. He tapped the code to allow the lift to reach his reserved suite. Hopefully the man would regain himself by the time they got to his suite. If not, either a cold shower or just sleeping it off would do the trick.
As they ascended Kinn adjusted his grip and looked down at the man in his arms.
He was lithe and tan, dark skin glowing in the warm lighting. A full warm looking mouth lay slack against his collarbone, defined cheekbone resting in the hollow. Dark hair fell across his face, obscuring eyes now closed, but which had previously held Kinn captive with their fire.
Kinn would never admit that he stared so long at his face the lift had reached his suite and actually started closing its doors again to descend.
Pulling himself together and heaving the man more securely into his arms he managed to get him across the living room and through to the bed area.
He pitched forward and propelled them the last few steps onto the bed.
Kinn blew out a long breath as he tried to catch himself; the man’s dead weight was nothing to joke about. He may have been slim looking but he was deceptively packed with muscle.
Kinn realised he had yet to move his head from where it lay on the man’s chest, and mild embarrassment gave him enough energy to roll properly away.
After a couple of minutes regaining himself, Kinn sat up and tried to rearrange the man more securely on the bed, taking off quite cheap dress shoes but leaving everything else intact.
No-one wants to wake up from being drugged, less dressed than they remembered.
Kinn grimaced as he remembered Max’s and his little crony’s disgusting intentions.
The concept of morality was a distant star to most criminal organisations; to some of these rich kids with more money than God whose parents dined at the same clubs with the country’s lawmakers, morality was a completely different galaxy.
Kinn left the boy to grab a small towel and run it under some water. He felt a strange awkwardness pressing the damp cloth to the man’s face, wiping away sticky sweat marks and pushing back tangled locks of hair.
There was a strange intimacy drawing itself out as he pressed the towel in soothing pulls. He never put this kind of care into any current fling he had, or with any escort he spent time with.
He remembered he did this for Tankhun once, when he had one of his massive anxiety spells and ran himself down into a light fever. Kinn had been in the middle rooting out a minor clan that had started spreading itself a little too widely over their territory, but taking the time to soothe his older brother and make sure he felt safe had been worth any delay.
There was the same sense of care now, faintly rising in him. Kinn knew that this action was as much for himself as it was to help the man laying asleep before him.
He kept at it, rinsing the cloth through again, until he heard the perfunctory knock at the door and Khan entered, carrying a small medical bag.
Khan stepped forwards, clearly intending to do it himself, but Kinn held his hand out instead, gesturing to give him the bag.
Khan halted before recovering himself and handing over the bag with a small nod.
“You can wait outside Khan.”
Khan’s lips thinned. “Khun Kinn. Protocol-”
Kinn jutted his chin up sharply, jaw tensing.
“I know the protocol, but I’m overriding it.”
Khan waited a moment, but clearly saw a lost cause in trying to persuade Kinn about the protocol leaving the Theerapanyakun heir alone with any unknown and unvetted persons.
Instead he snapped to attention and left, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Kinn opened the bag and rifled through it. He pulled out a strong herbal inhaler. Hopefully this could rouse his sleeping beauty. Most roofie drugs were not the sort of thing you wanted to just try and sleep off without being properly checked out or monitored.
Kinn was no medical professional, but if the man could have a bad reaction being conscious was better.
He held the inhaler under one nostril and waited. After a minute or so, the slack face screwed up in a pretty sort of pout, and the man twisted his head away to get away from the fumes.
One arm sloppily flailed upwards, almost smacking himself in his attempt.
Kinn grinned. This guy was adorable. He patted his cheek. “Hey, hey, come on. Let’s see those pretty eyes again ey…”
Finally, the man seemed to regain himself enough to peer through cracked eyes, chest moving quickly as the exertion of even waking up took its toll on him.
Time seemed to bend as Kinn was transfixed again by warm brown eyes, so inviting and elegantly shaped. Eyes like stars.
Kinn saw stars again as a hand came up and caught him soundly across the face, a knee similarly driving into his abdomen and flipping him onto his back. Kinn tried to grapple with the guy as he forced him back, legs either side of his hips, ankles hooked strategically to make it harder for him to manoeuvre his legs.
Khan might have had a point about protocol.
“Who…the fuck…are you..are..you with…with..” the backhand and flip had taken all of the guy’s effort apparently, breathing coming fast and shallow, the man even shook his head a couple of times to refocus himself.
“Am I with Max? No. I don’t know if you exactly remember the lift, but I was witness to the end of what I can only assume was a well-deserved beating by you. After you collapsed again, I had my men deal with Max and brought you here. For non-nefarious purposes.”
The man leaned his face in, but it seemed his faculties were still very skewed as he almost mashed his face into Kinn’s cheek and swayed slightly as he tried to right himself.
Kinn breathed in. The man smelled like damp skin, courtesy of Kinn’s earlier administrations, and the faded scent of cheap cologne, along with cigarette ash. It was a powerful and compelling smell somehow, and hooked Kinn somewhere behind his navel to follow it when the man moved away.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Some of the guy’s focus had returned, and he fumbled across Kinn’s chest to loosely grip at the lapels of his shirt. Kinn had rather liked that sensation, but internally pulled himself together to respond.
“You’re still at the hotel, I brought you to my suite to rest. My name is Kinn.”
The guy looked up and seemed to register where he was for the first time.
“Kinn,” he murmured softly, causing Kinn’s heart to swoop, “ok, Kinn…..ok.”
He slumped slightly, fisted hands loosening fully on Kinn’s shirt until they were just placed on Kinn’s chest, warm fingers spread to steady himself as he continued to unabashedly straddle Kinn.
Kinn, who was still struck by how his name sounded falling from those lips, was not in any hurry to remove the man.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly, hoping not to spook him.
The man swung back to look down at Kinn at the question, face melting into an open looking ease.
“Porsche.”
Porsche. It suited him.
“Porsche.” Fuck Kinn liked saying it. “Porsche, everything’s alright now.”
Porsche stared down at him, looking entirely like a puppy. A slightly drugged puppy who had no idea what was going on, but who could also drop kick a man into unconsciousness if he felt the need.
“Max is gone, and no-one here will hurt you. I swear.”
Kinn took the initiative to take Porsche’s hands in his, and felt the slight tremors in his limbs as the man obviously fought to keep himself upright and alert.
There was no sign of a bad reaction to whatever shitty cocktail of drugs Max might have given him, so it was probably alright to let Porsche go back to sleep and get him checked out in the morning. He made a mental note to get Khan to call for a doctor first thing.
The only problem now was reassuring Porsche enough to get him to go back to sleep.
Porsche was staring at where his and Kinn’s were intertwined. Obviously still out of it, he seemed fascinated in twisting their fingers together, and with Kinn’s family ring.
“Hmm, pretty.” Porsche murmured as he moved their hands and tilted Kinn’s ring up to the light.
Now that Porsche was calmer, Kinn felt at ease. He managed to wiggle up and slide Porsche onto the bed next to him.
“Uhuh, now, why don’t you try and sleep the rest of this off, you’ll feel way better in the morning.”
Porsche hummed. “That’s what I always tell him.”
Kinn raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Porsché.”
From the similarity of their names they were related, probably a brother. Most likely younger too if Porsche was the one handing out soothing advice.
Kinn blinked bemusedly as Porsche reached up with a hand and stroked his quirked eyebrow.
Porsche pouted. “I’m tired.”
Kinn sighed. “Then let’s get you to bed.”
Now that Porsche was awake Kinn took the initiative to help Porsche wriggle his way out of the rest of his clothes, leaving him in his underwear. Seeing Porsche in almost his full glory starfished goofily on the bed, Kinn immediately regretted it.
Porsche stretched out and twisted, trying to get comfortable, not even bothering to pull the sheets over himself. Kinn took in the smooth tan skin rippling, dusky contours on full display. His cock twitched.
Clenching his jaw, he took a beat to make sure Porsche had fallen asleep again and retreated to the living room, immediately going for the bottle of scotch he knew would be waiting for him.
This was going to be a long night, Kinn thought as he kept his eyes firmly away from the unintentionally erotic spectacle snoring away a few feet from him. A long night indeed.
Porsche hated hangovers. This one though, felt different. His head was relatively clear, usual throbbing waves absent. His muscles felt tense though, strained. He flexed and re-flexed, feeling out what felt sore and trying to stretch through it.
He spread his arms out on the bedspread, registering vaguely that he was on top of the sheets, rather than tucked in. He liked the feel of them; they were cool to the touch and felt soft and solid.
Way better than his sheets. Fuck.
Heart spiking, Porsche tried not to immediately freak out. He really wanted to though.
Just because he didn’t know how he got to wherever this was, didn’t mean anything bad happened. Could be he just got stupid drunk last night; was he with a client, god he fucking hoped so.
Even if he humiliated himself and the agency, it would explain the luxurious sheets, and all his current clients were vetted by the agency and by himse- except, the new client. Max.
Porsche felt his skin crawl.
That was what he was doing last night. His first appointment with the new client, Max Kanasut.
Porsche tried to listen out for any noise, hands clenching and twisting into the sheets.
Hearing nothing, Porsche cracked an eye open. He stared across one of the most expensive looking suites he’d ever seen. He hadn’t even been in a suite before he started escorting, but even the nicest one he’d been taken to since didn’t compare.
It looked like something out of Architectural Digest. Minimalist. Sleek. Nothing out of place.
Wincing against the morning light, Porsche rolled onto his side, curling in a little as new little pains were found.
After a few minutes he managed to find the will to push himself upright, head lilting a little as he looked around the room properly. He tried not to be aware he was just in his underwear.
At least he still had them on.
He blinked as he saw his clothes were a scant few inches away, folded. For some reason it let him unclench a little, the panic receding the slightest degree.
Nothing like he was thinking was likely to have happened if the result was his clothes folded on a barely mussed bed.
Maybe Max was a better guy than he’d thought; God if he’d got blackout drunk with a new client P’Chaem was gonna ream him out. But it was better. Better than the alternative.
As he leaned over and pulled his trousers towards him he spied the top of a black head of hair peaking over the arm of the sofa facing away from him.
Wow, what a gentleman. Even with a paid for escort he took the sofa rather than sleep next to him and freak him out.
Porsche shuffled to the edge of the bed and pulled his trousers on, wobbling a little as he stood to zip them up. He crept softly towards the sofa, not wanting to disturb Max.
That wasn’t Max.
As he stared at the man sleeping on the sofa, the little narrative he’d built in his head crumbled.
But fuck he is gorgeous, Porsche thought, biting his lip.
It was a slightly easier line of thought than trying to dig through his brain for what happened last night. So far everything was pitch black, blurred and stretched at the edges to encompass most of yesterday.
Porsche peered, the morning light casting a glow to a pale serene face. He really was something to look at, this complete stranger. Such particular eyebrows.They really gave his face dynamism, bridged by a strong nose. His hair was thick and ruffled from sleep. He looked soft and cute.
It helped against the shock that it wasn’t apparently Max that…helped him? Porsche still wasn’t sure entirely what was going on. Such a cute face reassured him.
Suddenly the cute face twitched and he was met with dark eyes. He knew those dark eyes.
He froze as he remembered when he last saw those dark eyes, the only point in a nauseous sea of constant throbbing light, streaks of fear clogging every sense, rough pinching hands dragging him forwards.
Porsche shivered as he gripped the tshirt he still hadn’t put on. What had happened last night?
He looked up and met soft eyes again. The man’s hand had gone behind the pillow his head lay on, but he pulled it out and reached out towards him in a placating manner, fingers crooked.
“Awake I see; how are you feeling?” A soft voice matched the man’s soft hair and soft eyes.
Porsche felt a small strangled noise escape him.
“Uh u-uhm okay? I..uh I don’t really…don’t really know what..what’s goin on?”
Porsche fiddled a little, “Not to be rude- actually yeah no, who are you and what the absolute fuck is going on?”
The guy frowned. “Do you remember anything from yesterday? What happened?”
Porsche coughed. Shit.
“I remember…..irememberyoureyes….beingdragged…prettymuchnothing….” Porsche mumbled, hoping the guy didn’t catch the first bit.
A broad smirk told him his hopes were in vain. The guy looked at him and sat up, gesturing for him to take a seat on the wide sofa.
Porsch sank down, not taking his eye off the guy. “Can you fill me in? Who are you? Why am I here? How am I here?”
The guy’s face fell into a constructed frown and he rested his elbows on his knees as he leant forward.
“My name is Kinn. I own this hotel.”
Well, that was a twist.
“I was at a meeting here last night when I saw you being brought in by a couple of guys. You seemed out of it and scared, so I tried to check on you.”
Porsche felt the filmy hope that this was all some innocuous drunken shenanigans popped.
“They had gotten you into a lift.” Porsche felt a cold sweat spread over him. “By the time I got to you it was all over.”
Porsche felt sick, clammy hands dropping his tshirt onto the floor. Kinn’s eyes widened and he waved his hands frantically at him.
“No! Fuck! What I mean, fuck, is that you had fucking kicked their arses spectacularly, so in that way it was all over! Not–that.”
Kinn looked slightly stricken, guilty over his ill-spoken words.
Porsche nervously snorted, the adrenaline coursing through him and being replaced by tangible relief. That was a minute long rollercoaster of emotion he didn’t want to go through again.
“You passed out after that, so I had one of my guards finish getting rid of those guys, and I took you to my suite. You woke up again so I could check on you, you don’t remember any of that?”
Porsche grimaced. “Whatever Max gave me really worked. I don’t remember shit.”
Kinn scowled, his thick eyebrows drawing together. “Yes. He’s always been known for having a lot of party favours on him.”
Porsche looked at Kinn.
“So you know him.”
Kinn caught his tone and winced slightly before nodding. “The Kanasuts have been a prominent family for generations, mostly in stocks and bonds but diversifying into politics and lately real estate. They’ve been cosying up to my family for years but the latest generation has been…less than successful, so we’ve never even formally met except across the room at various functions.”
Kinn looked at his hands and back at Porsche. “His family is finished though. Of that I’m sure.”
Porsche was slightly curious as to why the Kanasuts were finished; it didn’t seem like Max was the heir of a failing business to get on the agency client list.
The fact he had definitely done this before meant that Porsche was gonna have words, so many words, with P’Chaem.
Clients were meant to be vetted. Porsche was meant to be able to choose, to be selective. He was meant to be safe.
“Sucks to be them I guess. If I ever see him again it’ll be too soon.”
Kinn looked at his askance. “Don’t worry Porsche. Max seems to have taken an extended holiday after this little mess. I wouldn’t think anyone in Bangkok will be seeing him in the near future.”
Porsche tilted his head. “How did you know- did I tell you my name last night?” he guessed. He really, really hated that so much happened and all he had was a gaping lack of anything to grasp onto. Of all the fragments of yesterday, Kinn’s eyes were all he could retain.
“You did. It was a good thing too, I was able to track down your work and alert them that you were safe.”
Porsche’s eyebrows raised. That was some good sleuthing to find out his work from just his name.
“That’s…nice of you.” Porsche went a bit red. “Um, I actually haven’t thanked you yet have I?”
Kinn seemed to focus on his cheeks, eyes roaming his face before he coughed. Maybe still a little early for him, Porsche thought.
“I didn’t really do anything, you had taken care of them by the time I arrived.”
Porsche raised an eyebrow. “Had I? You said I passed out, I doubt that a lot of other hotel owners would have been real appreciative to the unconscious escort who bludgeoned a couple of wealthy clients on their property. Bad for business you know.”
Kinn waved his hand a little, thick signet ring catching Porsche’s attention. It looked elegant, but heavy.
“What I’m saying is you don’t have to thank me.”
Porsche twisted his lips. “Look I don’t exactly know how many escorts you go around saving of a night, but from what it sounds…,” Porsche swallowed slightly, pushing down his lingering panic about the events of last night, “from what it sounds you got me out of a pretty bad scrape.”
“I know a lot of escorts who’ve been in similar scrapes and it didn’t end so rosy for them you know?”
Porsche looked at his hands and then fiercely at Kinn. “So you helping isn’t nothing.”
Porsche felt slightly bitter that this was the most sincere altruism he’d gotten since his parents died. Despite what the musicals said, no-one looked kindly on orphan children, especially ones with debts to pay.
Kinn looked at him and nodded. Porsche grinned at him, smile widening when Kinn blushed in return.
Interesting.
Porsche smiled as he propped his chin on the back of a hand, elbow resting on his knee.
“In fact, I am very appreciative of your Robin Hood act.”
Kinn looked a bit flustered at the change of tack, and the stare Porsche was fixing him with currently. His eyes flickered down to Porsche’s chest, which still hadn’t been covered by the tshirt discarded on the floor.
Porsche felt himself relax into the sofa more. If only such a cutie was his client, he’d probably look forward to work.
He touched Kinn’s forearm, liking how firm and solid it felt. Kinn looked down at his hand, and Porsche felt a touch of embarrassment pulling back and crossing one leg over another.
Kinn reached over himself, and furthering Porsche’s embarrassment he touched the back of his hand to Porsche’s forehead.
“It seems like the drug has worked its way out without problem. Do you feel okay? No lingering effects?”
Porsche reached up and pulled Kinn’s hand back down, trying to not blush as Kinn held on slightly before letting go.
“Really Kinn, I feel fine. A little overtired maybe, but nothing serious.” He bit his lip slightly. “I should probably stop bothering you actually. I have a shift tonight I need to get ready for.”
He stood up, picking up his discarded tshirt and finally pulling it on.
Kinn felt a bit bereft as Porsche stood up and mentioned leaving. He had never liked people lingering, but he was seriously trying to think of a solid reason for Porsche to stay.
Porsche looked about and looked at Kinn with expectant disappointment.
“I don’t suppose my phone survived last night?”
Kinn shook his head, cursing himself for not thinking to check Max or his little friend for Porsche’s belongings.
“There was nothing in your pockets, I’m sorry Porsche.”
Porsche nodded, lips pursed in self-recrimination. “Didn’t really expect much else.”
Kinn went to the front door and opened it, murmuring to someone outside it.
He turned back to Porsche, “Khan will take you home, wherever you want to go.”
Porsche nodded walking up to the door and facing Kinn.
He placed his hand on Kinn’s shoulder, before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on a high cheekbone.
“Thank you Kinn.”
Kinn felt his cheek tingle, the dry peck burning straight through him. He flexed his hand, restraining himself from touching the spot where Porsche kissed.
Porsche followed Khan to the lift, turning around at the end and waving freely, smiling happily.
Kinn shut the door reluctantly, realising he was smiling in return and frowning at his stupid reaction. He’d never acted like such a fool in front of any boy before, yet here he was acting like a schoolboy with a crush.
He was acting ridiculous.
As he turned back to his phone and his usual daily life, the endearing smile Porsche gave as he waved goodbye floated about his head, causing a small but unnoticed smile to creep at the edges of Kinn’s mouth for the rest of the week.
Porsche couldn’t believe P’Chaem. After what happened with Max, and the genuine contrition Porsche had seen when he had met with her afterwards, Porsche had thought springing a new client on him would be a thing of the past.
He didn’t care for the agency’s vetting anymore; Max got through, and if it wasn’t for Kinn….
Porsche had tried to not think of Kinn as much as he wanted to; nothing came of thinking of the elegant man who’d saved him and made him feel so safe.
His time was better spent yelling at P’Chaem for daring to book him a new client that he had no idea about and hadn’t vetted.
He hadn’t remembered much more about that night with Max. Thankfully he hadn’t heard anything from Max; no-one had. The paranoia that plagued him the first few days had receded as everything Kinn said seemed to be true.
He heard off Marsh that the Kanasuts were in the midst of a very public fall of grace. Marsh had been livid when he heard what happened to Porsche.
Even Cherry had focused his vitriol from Porsche’s constant failings to P’Chaem letting such a piece of shit through as a respected client.
As Porsche got waved through to see P’Chaem, his hurt fuelled his anger. The residual terror of what happened, and what almost happened, meant he was ready to fully kick off about this new client.
“Porsche, darling! Come in!” P’Chaem sat behind her desk, annoyingly enough on the phone.
“P’Chaem, you-” Porsche snarled but stopped wrong footed as she flapped a hand unconcernedly at him to sit down and pointed at the phone.
“Your new client.” she mouthed, eyes sparkling with excitement.
The fuck they are, he thought spitefully, fully prepared start speaking regardless of phone etiquette, when P’Chaem spoke again.
“Oh yes Khun Kinn, everything is all arranged, please rest assured that the rotation has been adjusted in preparation, post confirmation meeting of course.”
Porsche froze. Kinn?
P’Chaem’s smile took a wobbly edge. “Of course Khun Kinn, what happened before was an egregious error. We take our employees safety very seriously and-”
“No, of course Khun Kinn. I’ll make sure he’s aware. Thank you Khun Kinn.”
Porsche suddenly felt a lot less angry about his potential client. If it was him, if it was Kinn. Porsche felt a little smile playing at his lips.
P’Chaem ended the phone call, almost bowing to the voice on the phone. Porsche felt curious now; he knew Kinn must be wealthy, and owned at least one very luxurious hotel. But he must be a very important client if P’Chaem was being so deferential.
“Porsche, dear, that was your new client, Khun Kinn.”
P’Chaem sounded excited, but the way she phrased it had him frowning again.
“P’Chaem, I remember the last time you said that.”
P’Chaem’s face flashed with hurt, and she spread her hands in supplication. “I know Porsche; and I’m still so terribly sorry for what that scum tried to do. But this is different. This isn’t a new client to the agency that managed to scam the vetting process. Khun Kinn is a long time client and all his current escorts are completely satisfied with him as a client.”
Porsche leaned forward. “Who are his current boys?”
“Marsh is his longest standing appointment, he’s been seeing Khun Kinn for a good few years. Cherry, Wick and Prem. Oh and Sugar on occasion.”
Porsche didn’t know if he should be concerned or impressed with Kinn’s stamina.
“And he wants to add me to the rotation?”
Porsche tried not to sound too eager.
P’Chaem nodded. “Yes, he was very interested in your availability. Actually…”
She pulled out a sheaf of papers from a pile on her desk. She placed it before him and tapped her hand over it.
“He has expressed interest in being your only client.”
Porsche’s eyebrows raised. “My only client?”
He picked up the papers and shuffled through them; it was a slight show, as he wasn’t exactly a legal whiz and had taken ages to read and understand his initial contract with the agency.
But he understood numbers, and as he caught the figure listed for monthly compensation for being on exclusive retainer, Porsche was immensely glad he was already sat down.
Kinn wasn’t just rich, he must be unspeakably wealthy if he’s throwing this kind of money at one of his many escorts.
Porsche looked up with wide eyes at P’Chaem. “Is he fucking serious? He drops this on his escorts monthly?”
P’Chaem wasn’t exactly meeting his eyes when she said, “I can’t disclose other workers’ contracts, you know that Porsche.”
Porsche wiggled his fingers and tilted his head at her with a wheedling expression. She remained firm.
“Yeah, I get it.” He sighed. He tried picking out things from the contract, but it was all legal jargon and gibberish to him.
“I’ll need to go through this; but do you think I should sign? This is way more than I make with my current clients; does he know that?”
“No, and he’s not going to; I was prepared to negotiate hard for you, especially after what happened last month, but he came out with this number and let me tell you Porsche,” She placed her elbow on the desk to lean closer to him.
“This is not a contract you want to turn down lightly. I’ve looked over it myself and had Boss as well,” Boss being the agency’s solicitor, “and I recommend you sign.”
That was good enough for Porsche, but he knew he would still look over it as much as he could.
A lifetime of debt collectors battering down his door and returning with more and more compounded interest rates, made Porsche acutely aware of the power of a tricky contract.
But as Porsche lightly stroked the name printed on the top paper, he knew he was almost definitely signing.
Kinn Annakin Theerapanyakun.
Kinn sipped his whisky as he stared across Bangkok, passively watching the twinkling and glowing lights spreading themselves across the night.
Sugar had just left, the one he usually called at very late notice; he had a vague knowledge about his other boys’ schedules, and Sugar was mostly on call for when he knew his other more regular companions would be indisposed or off-duty.
He felt a slight pang of guilt; Sugar was a lovely boy, quiet and giving, but even at the throes of climax he kept thinking of fiery warm eyes and the flex of powerful abs that had tantalised him to distraction ever since their first…meeting.
But, tomorrow, things would be different. P’Chaem had sent a confirmation email that Porsche had signed his contract.
Kinn had felt a hot swirl of arousal when he had included the exclusivity clause. Porsche was his; Kinn was unused to feelings of possession and avarice with the men he slept with.
But with Porsche. Knowing that not only that Porsche had agreed to be his, his alone, but that Kinn was providing everything for him.
Kinn had gone a couple of rounds with Sugar, working out his anticipation; but still he felt a stirring at the thought that he was now Porsche’s sole client.
No more sores like Max taking what wasn’t theirs, no more worry that Porsche could fall prey to such foul traps.
Kinn would take care of Porsche. He was alight with the future of Porsche’s first visit.
__________________
Kinn set his empty glass down, reaching back to trace at the open lips of the sleeping boy on his thigh.
Their first time together had been ebullient; Kinn had never laughed in a year as much as he did that first time with Porsche.
He was so sweet, Kinn had that first moment of sinking into Porsche, his legs splayed, hands clutching at Kinn’s back, etched into his mind forever.
He had completely unnerved the heads of the minor clans that week, as he smiled through every laced threat and back stabbing jab. Even Vegas had been looking at him askance.
Unable to resist, he cupped Porsche’s face and leant down to take his mouth and lick into it slowly.
As Porsche stirred to consciousness, Kinn gazed upon the face that was becoming vital to him.
He had informed P’Chaem that he was no longer retaining any other appointments apart from Porsche.
He didn’t know how the conversation he was planning would go. But he knew however he could have him, all he needed was Porsche in reach, smiling and welcoming him with open arms and a loving kiss.