Work Text:
A loud thud resonates throughout the room as the chair hits the wall. The air is knocked out of Kim's lungs, the smile wiped off his face.
His cheek is flush against the wooden surface of the desk, wrists locked behind his back.
Kamol could burn a hole through the back of his neck with his glare. He can feel the man's eyes on him. Kim squirms against his grasp and finds that breaking free would be easier said than done.
Kamols free hand is holding his hair, keeping his head down as he speaks.
"I warned you, Kim," his voice is stern, so close to Kim's ear his breath fans over the skin.
"Oh please," Kim finds the courage to continue mocking Kamol, "you won't do anything."
Earlier, he was bothering Kamol during work, believing the mafioso would ignore him. He didn't know Kamols patience was already worn thin and Kim would end up pinned. He wanted his attention, which resulted in him do multiple, unnecessary and annoying things.
"I won't?" Kamol asks, though Kim doesn't doubt him at all.
Kim only nods his head, further pissing off Kamol with the grin that returns to his face.
Kamol goes quiet, slowly letting go of Kim's hair. Kim hums, thinking he's actually being released.
He finds out that's not the case when a hand grazes over his pants, though. Specifically his backside. Kamol wants to smile when he feels Kim move up the desk, away from his hand.
“Why are you scared?"
Kim mumbles that he's not, fighting against his grasp again. Kamol holds him in place. He’s not putting much effort into it now. It’s a waste of energy
"I'll let you go if you apologize," Kamol makes it clear that apologizing is the only way. Kim scoffs, lifting his chin the slightest.
"You should apologize, not me," Kim doesn't plan on saying sorry for anything. Not for now, anyway.
The hand is smoothing over his pants again, his inner thigh. Kim still has the look of mischief, but it wouldn't be for long. He cannot wait to wipe it off
"You came in here," Kamol feels him jump when the skin is slightly pinched through fabric.
"…interrupt my work," he pinched harder, "and expect me to let you go?” As a futile attempt to escape Kim moves his leg, which only results in widening his stance.
Kim isn’t sure how long he’ll resist, so he's relieved when there's only one hand on him again. Even if it was holding him down.
"Answer," Kamol looks down at him.
He doesn't do what he's told, which makes the hand come back to his leg, grazing his thigh.
Kim won't budge, closing his eyes and preparing for something, anything. The sound, feeling an impact or sharp, sudden pain. Kamol seems mad enough to do it.
But it never comes.
Kamol doesn't hit him. Rather, Kim is held down while his free hand trails around his body like it's searching.
It actually worries Kim. The air is slowly growing tense around them. His demand is left unanswered and Kim can't tell what'll happen.
He gives his arms a tug again, hearing Kamol huff in what he thinks is frustration.
"I think I'll keep you here until you learn; bent over my desk," Kim hates himself for not being totally against the idea. Another tug at his wrists.
"Besides," Kamol reaches to the front of Kim's pants, "you seem to like it."
Kim goes to argue, but even he is doubting himself. He bites back a moan at fingers grazing over his hardened cock.
He closes his eyes, focused on not making a sound. That is until the goes under his shirt, pinching at his stomach. A warm hand runs over the red and blotchy area. It's not the first time he's been pinched as a warning. As long as Kamol was the one doing it, it felt right.
Kamols warnings are ignored and Kim continues to try and free himself. He pushes against his grip, tugged his wrists and even tries to lift his head. He only stops when he presses up against the desk. Kamol can hear the startled gasp when Kim is finally trapped against the surface and his body. He feels like his legs will suddenly give out.
Kim is quickly losing the confident persona and Kamol is more interested in watching, gauging any reaction he can pull from the man. It’s different from normal; how Kamol would coo in his ear or degrade him. This time, it’s nothing. Moving his hand is enough to make Kim squirm, but one squeeze and he settles down.
Kim has stopped moving again, almost completely pliant. He won't say anything. Not even about the hand carding through his hair, squeezing the side of his neck, the hand that's slowly undressing him.
He can feel Kamol press his body into his, hard on obvious through the material of his dress pants.
Kamol can see the red on his ears. At last, a whimper breaks through the silence. A noise to show his discomfort; a complaint. Finally, Kamol thinks, listening to Kim steadily fall apart with light touches.
His wrists are released so suddenly he looks back in confusion.
Kim isn't too sure how to feel about the clicking noise, a sign that his watch had come off. He knows Kamol will be anything but merciful but he just wants to be touched.
"Turn around," a command that Kim's heard so many times he listens without another thought. He sits up on the desk and the other can see his face clearly.
Ungracefully, Kim is pulled forward and their lips meet. Kamol licks his lips and Kim parts them, tilting his head as the kiss deepens, tongues touching and going. They’re so close, hands all over, Kim can faintly smell cologne. His hands tangle in dark hair while Kamol is trying to tug his shirt off. They break the kiss to pull Kim’s shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor at their feet.
He pecks his lips and moves down to his jaw, Kim’s head is cradled by a hand, leaning into his touch when kisses became bites. From his jaw to his neck so quickly Kim can’t keep up and stifle a sound anymore.
Kim doesn’t realize his pants are unbuttoned until Kamol is pulling them off, and he helps by lifting his hips since he’s seated on the desk for the mafia’s viewing pleasure. It’s wrong, it should feel wrong. Someone could come in and Kim would never be able to look at them ever again.
“Wait-” Kim puts his hand out to stop Kamol from most likely ripping the last of his clothes off.
The words die in his throat when Kamol looks at him dead in the eyes, almost uninterested. Kim doesn’t say his concerns, it’s not too important, right? It might've added to the thrill of it. Someone needs to enter the office but Kamol is too busy holding down his husband against his desk while Kim holds back every noise so they aren’t caught. He hates himself for picturing it so vividly.
When Kamol brushes his hand over Kim’s boxers he shifts his hips, like a silent plea. Kamol scolds him to be patient and Kim eases back down onto the desk.
Reaching forward, his fingers work unsteadily on the buttons of Kamols shirt, only to be pushed away so he can do it himself. The shirt hangs open instead of falling off his shoulders.
"Kamol," Kim whispered, "touch me."
Kamol wants to. He wants to do so many things to Kim but he has to learn to apologize before anything else. Kamol hasn't totally forgotten why they're here.
"You have something to say, first," Kamol reaches up to stroke his face, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. Kim's tongue swipes over it shortly.
"Say…?” Kim frowns, biting his lip as the hand moves away, grazing over his chest.
"I want you," he sharply gasps when the thumb is on his nipple.
Kamol continues, "to tell me you're sorry."
The hand rubbing his inner thigh makes him suddenly very aware he's fully bare.
"I–" Kim wants to rip his eyes away from Kamols, but can't. He feels so exposed.
Kamol doesn't stand idly as he waits, going to mark Kim's chest and litter it with bite marks. It's already reddened from nails raking over.
He gets lower and lower until it's by his hip, by then the hand on his thigh is lifting Kim's leg. Kim bites his tongue, feeling teeth nip at the skin. Kamol breathes against the spot before stepping away.
There's a brief clicking noise. It happens twice. Kim knows it's not time to laugh, he couldn't if he wanted to.
"Why do you have that?" Kim is staring at the bottle of lube like it was foreign. It was a new bottle.
"Times like these," his fingers are coated in the substance, only two. Kim can't bring himself to think about it right now. He's focused on where they're going.
Kamol watches Kim's face, flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes. He's gripping at him for dear life. It would've been so entertaining watching Kim scramble to grab something when he wasn't allowed to. He would struggle.
"Put your hands behind your back."
Rather than taking his hands off him, Kim tightens his grip at the demand. The whine is low in his throat, another plea before hands fall behind him, struggling to stay up.
The way he’s pushed back on the desk is mildly embarrassing but extremely revealing. He has no shame in stripping and asking for what he wants, but Kims is very sure he’ll have this moment burned into his memory.
Though, he doesn’t think he’ll care when lubed fingers are pressing against his hole and sliding in, obscenely. His legs were already shaking, but it was beyond impossible to move without injuring something or slipping.
The second the digits move he loses all coherent thought temporarily.
——
"Kamol," Kim's voice breaks beautifully.
He leaned back on his forearms, sweat beading down his chest and hands itching to grab Kamol.
Kamol doesn't respond, glancing up at him without much regard.
It's been more than a few minutes, and Kim has finally caught on. He gets nothing more until he says he's sorry.
He's been eased down from his orgasm more than twice, fingers slowly moving inside of him. Yet, Kamol doesn't say anything when he complains.
Kim feels like his nerves are on fire. He can't take it anymore and he’s pretty sure his dick can’t either.
"Kamol, please," Kim mumbles, chewing his bottom lip until it's red. He shakily breathes in, "I'm sorry…"
A hand runs up his neck, thumb tracing the column of his throat. Kim tries to stay in place but he can't. He's pretty sure he's shaking all over, tensed.
Repeatedly, Kim says he's sorry. He's sorry for barging in and bothering him. Apology after apology fills Kamol with satisfaction, but he's pretty sure Kim will start crying if he drags this on any more. After so long, he pulls away and Kim leans his head back, but he's being pushed around again. Without warning, he's pulled on his feet, body trapped between the desk and the others yet again.
Kim tries to tell him that standing feels impossible. A simple "I know" and their hands meet, fingers intertwined, palms against wood. Kim whimpers as he's pushed down. Kamol was torturing him, surely. His cock pushes in slowly, deliberately. A shudder runs down Kim’s spine.
Head pushed into Kim's bare shoulder, Kamol bites at the spot as he listens to his name tumble from his husband's mouth when he’s finally pressing his hips against the other. Kamol can’t help but tell him he’s doing good.
Kim whimpers at the praise, pushing back when he's called a good boy. Kamol kissed his back, smile hidden.
Polished wood under him fogs up with every breath, "Kamol," the name is muttered against the surface. He hears every cry and croon, reassuring Kim that he's here to take care of him.
His skin is warm and soft against his lips and Kamol makes sure to mark every inch if possible, whispering sweet words after.
Tender words with stuttered breaths made Kamol seem much more human. He’s not emotionless, uncaring like how his bodyguards and investors see him. If his hands weren’t holding down another pair he would’ve been holding Kim’s hips, keeping him there until they both couldn’t stand.
Kim falls apart in his hands, pliant in his hold and taking whatever he's given. His grip tightens, grasping Kamols fingers.
Kamol uses one of his hands to hold Kim's wrists in his. Much like earlier, but this time it's above his head. Kim doesn't know what's happening until there's a hand on his dick and he unintentionally pushes into it.
Despite the rambling– Kamol can barely understand him, watching his head loll.
He was so close, just watching Kim could've been enough. He calls him, listening to how Kim says his name in return.
Words are a jumbled mess, incoherent and useless to both. Kim tips his head back and goes rigid, finally falling over the edge.
After being denied several times, felt up and manhandled, it was absolutely worth it. Kamol could push him around and make him beg as much as he wanted, as long as this never stopped. He doesn't want the former to stop at all, despite oversensitivity making him squirm. The thrusts are nearly careless, only for his benefit. Still uncaringly hitting that one sweet spot that made Kim beg until he did it again.
He's surprised when Kamol bites down on his shoulder while it happens, Kim unintentionally shifts, moaning tiredly. Everything feels hazy and goes still.
Hair brushes against his neck before a nose brushes over it, too.
Kim is pretty sure he's falling asleep. He's so out of it he doesn't realized the multiple papers scattered across the floor.
——
Stirring from his sleep, he realizes he’s in someones hold. Kim quickly calms when he's in Kamols arms. A robe is on his shoulders, loosely tied on his body.
"How do you feel?" they're no longer in the office, rather a bedroom. The faint sound of water running is heard before it stops. The voice is caring, soft. Nothing like a few minutes ago. Actually, Kim doesn’t know how much time has passed.
"…good," Kamol sits next to Kim as he answers with that same reluctance. He's given a glass of water, sipping from it. There's a kiss at his temple.
"Does anywhere hurt?" Kamol rubs his lower back, but Kim shakes his head.
"No," Kim whispered, leaning against his partner and closing his eyes. Yes, he internally groans. Just the obvious places. Nothing special.
"That's good, are you tired?" Kamol brushes Kim’s hair out of his face, “The bath is ready for the both of us.”
“Did you remember to turn the water off this time?” Kim asks, realizing his voice sounded like crap. The water soothed his throat a bit.
He hears a dry laugh, “Yes, now do you want to bathe?”
Kim nods his head, reaching out for Kamol, expecting help. Which he gets. He’s picked up and brought in to the bathroom. Only now Kim realizes Kamol is also in a bathrobe.
“I think I spoil you too much,” Kamol mutters, putting him down on his feet.
“Good, keep doing it,” He smiles into Kamol’s shoulder before pulling away to take off his robe. Kamol smiled fondly, helping Kim into the warm, bubbly water.
He gingerly sits down, letting the warmth envelope his skin. Kamol does the same as Kim and joins him in the water. Kim moves over to him, but instead of cuddling he's met with water being poured over his head.
The surprised and annoyed "oi!" is hilarious.
"Let's make this quick. It's late," Kamol mumbles, hands already smoothing his wet hair back. Kim sighs.
–
The bath was brief yet soothing. Kim is able to wear comfortable pajamas yet again and he dives into the bed, accompanied by the man he had sweetly called over.
They kiss, slow and loving, chaste. Kim runs a hand through Kamols damp hair when he pulls away. His forehead is kissed before the covers are pulled over their bodies. There's no need to say "I love you" because they know. With simple gestures and caresses.
"Sleep," Kamol muttered against his forehead. Kim gets comfortable in his arms, happily leaning against his chest.
It's like that they fall asleep for the rest of the night, Kamol with an arm under Kim's head and the other around his back.