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Awaking with a jolt, the fog briefly clearing from his mind with the sudden rush of adrenaline, Porsche’s head shot up from the pillow. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his senses and identify what had finally dragged him out of his dreams. There was warm air blowing over the icy skin at the back of his neck. His hand moved there, wondering if a window had been left open.
With a glance over his shoulder he was met by an unfamiliar sight: Kinn, fast asleep. He was incredibly close, robe brushing against Porsche’s bare back, breath fanning against him, and his presence threw him for a moment. Unlike his morning with Pete, after the night Kinn had kissed him, it didn’t take long to remember what had transpired between them. On both occasions, a part of him wished he hadn’t.
As if their working relationship wasn’t complicated enough. As if he weren’t already living in perpetual danger from Kinn’s work.
Who had drugged him? Who had tried to…
Porsche shuddered. The man was a blur but he clearly remembered the harm he had threatened to inflict. If it hadn’t been for Kinn, he might not have woken up at all.
If it weren’t for Kinn he might not have woken up so sore, he amended wryly.
Frustratingly, their night together wasn’t as memorable as the threat of violence from his abductor. The fear had been strong enough to permeate the drug’s effects. With Kinn all he could remember was their skin meeting, being kissed until his lungs felt dry, a point of pain being met with soothing pleasure. Words were lost, however, to the muddled mess that remained of his brain.
He needed more sleep but that would mean lying back down with the man beside him. His boss who had once kidnapped him as well. Kinn. That infuriating, smug, egotistical, confusing, dangerous bastard. Heir to the major family. Enemy of the minor family. The kind of person he wouldn’t want Porchay within a mile of. A man who was determined to take his mind, soul and body. If he laid back down, would Porsche be handing it to him? Did he want to?
Both times Kinn and he had been intimate, Porsche was inebriated. Was that the reason for them coming together? He couldn’t be sure, and neither did he believe that Kinn would be forthcoming about any changes to their relationship. If Porsche got up and left now, Kinn likely wouldn’t acknowledge what had happened. He’d only made veiled attempts to the kiss, ones Porsche finally understood.
He should go. Keep what remained of his dignity.
Trying to push himself further up, however, his head swam. With a surprised gasp, his arms gave way and he fell back onto the pillow. The small shake of the mattress was ready to pull Kinn, always vigilant, from his slumber.
“Porsche?” He said, immediately demanding. Porsche would roll his eyes if he weren’t concerned about vomiting. He was so bossy. “Are you all right?”
Propping himself over Porsche’s prone body, Kinn searched his face.
“Do you need anything? Water? Painkillers? Pete is patrolling the floor, I could get him…”
Porsche weakly batted him away.
“Stop talking.” He muttered.
Kinn’s mouth pressed into a hard line, clearly dissatisfied with the request but too apologetic to refuse.
Taking a few deep breaths, Porsche waited for his vision to stop wavering before he attempted to sit up again; Kinn’s hands were there with him, waiting to catch if necessary.
Again, Porsche pushed his hands away.
“I’m fine, stop hovering.”
Taking that as an invitation to speak again, Kinn was quick to disagree. “You’re whiter than the sheets. And your hands are cold.”
“They’re not.”
Snatching them up in his own, Kinn instantly disproved him. His skin felt like fire in comparison.
“You should get back under the covers. Stay warm. I’ll send Pete to buy some clothes that will fit you.”
“I have clothes.” Porsche said.
“Not here.”
Frowning, Porsche disagreed again. “What I was wearing last night…”
“You can’t wear that.”
“Why not?”
Kinn withdrew to his side of the bed. “They’re ruined.”
With that curt response, he tightened the sash around his robe and went for his phone. He was soon barking orders to whoever was on the other end, taking the call with him into the bathroom.
It didn’t take long for Porsche to try and get up again. He was sure his clothes were somewhere, or at least there would be a second robe. Staying in bed, exposed, didn’t feel like an option so he pushed through the wave of nausea that threatened as soon as he swung his feet onto the floor. Dragging the sheet with him in attempt to save some of his modesty, despite baring everything to Kinn already, Porsche hoisted himself up.
His clothes were strewn in a pile, unlike Kinn’s which were neatly folded.
Tutting, Porsche leaned his hip against the bedpost for balance as he pulled his vest and underwear on. There was an unpleasant odour lingering on the fabric, a scent he couldn’t quite place, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t stay in this room, naked in too many ways.
He had one arm in his shirt when Kinn skulked up on him.
“No.”
Reflexes slow, he almost fell from the shock of his voice, but a hand clenched around his arm and held him upright. The other immediately started pulling his shirt off.
“Stop that.” Porsche complained, trying to prise himself away.
“I told you it was ruined.” Kinn snapped, successfully dragging it away from his weak grasp.
“It’s fine.” He said, still reaching for it. “No one cares if my shirt is wrinkled.”
Throwing it to the floor, Kinn raised an eyebrow and started corralling him back toward the bed.
“I told you to stay warm.”
“Clothes will help with that.”
“Pete’s getting you some from across the street.”
“Why? Mine are right there.” Porsche argued, pointing at the heap. We wished his legs would carry him there, instead he fell back against the bed woodenly with the gentlest of pushes from Kinn.
“I told you,” he retorted through gritted teeth, “they’re ruined.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Yes, they are.” Kinn yelled, making him flinch as a shot of pain ran across his head. As always, he noticed immediately and quietly apologised. “I meant you shouldn’t have to wear them. They smell like… him.”
Pinching his vest between two fingers, Porsche lifted it to his nose. That odour struck him again and with it a sickening reminder. Hands forcing him onto the bed, pulling at his clothes, gripping at his limbs and rearranging him to their whim while he was helpless to stop it.
With a noise of disgust, Porsche ripped the vest from his body and threw it over the side of the bed before flopping back. A shiver immediately ran over his exposed skin but he ignored it. The cold was worth it if it would stop the flood of memories trying to return. His voice wasn’t clear, muffled by the drugs, yet Porsche couldn’t forget the words he threatened him with. To cross the line; the line protected by Kinn, only to be taken by him minutes later.
“You’re still cold.”
Porsche didn’t dignify that obvious statement with a response. He couldn’t contain a small grunt of appreciation, however, when a warm robe landed over his prone body.
Rolling his head lazily to the side, he saw it was Kinn’s. Unlike Porsche who had hunched in on himself, Kinn stood brazenly nude in the rising sunlight. With no thought to his state of undress, he focused on arranging the fabric to cover Porsche’s shoulders then retrieved the forgotten cover from the floor and cocooned it around his legs.
“There,” he said gently, “that will keep you warm for now.”
Turning to retrieve his piles of clothes, Porsche looked but didn’t see as Kinn got dressed. His eyes kept drooping as warmth gradually started returning to his extremities. The smell that had disturbed him was replaced with a finer scent: Kinn’s. It lingered on the pillow too, and Porsche wiggled his way up the bed to return to it.
Kinn had crossed a line, yet his scent still brought comfort. He wondered if he should be concerned about his sanity. It seemed plainly obvious, even to him, that the drugs were still in his system. He shouldn’t call out to Kinn, asking him to stay in the room as he opened the door to go. For some reason – the drugs, he reasoned – he did.
“Where are you going?” He asked, head rising from the pillow. “You’re leaving me?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Kinn looked surprised. “I’m checking in with Pol. He’s reviewing footage from last night.”
“Why?”
Frowning, he dropped his hand from the handle and walked back toward him with his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “To find out who did this to you.”
“Why are you leaving?” Porsche clarified. “Can’t you call?”
Raising one of those perfectly sculpted eyebrows, Kinn was surprised he had to ask, “You want me to stay?”
Suddenly feeling petulant, Porsche turned his head away and barely refrained from sticking out his lip like Chay used to do. “No. Go do whatever you want. You always do.”
He hadn’t said the last part as quietly as he meant to, but with his head turned he failed to see how his words affected Kinn. He expected scorn; felt he deserved it too. He thought Porsche would want him gone; would be disgusted by him.
Pulling the phone out of his pocket, Kinn stayed where he was as he made the call. Porsche didn’t turn back to face him. He waited until awkward silence fell over them, then burrowed his head back in the pillow.
“Porsche.” Kinn said, his voice a mixture of exasperation and fondness.
He grumbled in response, eyes still heavy.
“Porsche. I stayed.”
“I know.”
“You wanted me to stay. That means we have to talk about it.”
“Did Pol find who did it?”
“We will.” Kinn vowed.
“Then, no. I don’t want to talk.” Porsche corrected. He didn’t want to think about what almost happened but he had to. He had to know who attacked him; before they tried to do it again.
As if reading his mind, Kinn said: “They won’t get you again. I’ll make sure of that.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know that.” Kinn replied brusquely. “Would I have hired you as my bodyguard if you couldn’t? Porsche, talk to me.”
“No.” He said, rebelling against Kinn’s demanding tone. Why did he have to be so arrogant? So bossy? So… so…
“I took advantage of you.”
Porsche grimaced into the pillow.
“You were drugged, and I knew better.”
“Then why did you?” He asked, before he could think better. It was inappropriate. He was an employee. Something the man standing repentant before him liked to constantly remind him.
“You were being…” Kinn started before he stopped himself. Porsche rolled over to face him.
With a sigh, he corrected, “Because I wanted to. Because I’m attracted to you. Something which made me lose my better judgement. Which is something I must apologise to you for. I am sorry. You had been attacked and I made everything worse. When I kissed you for the first time, you were drunk. I’ve taken advantage twice. I’m sorry.”
Porsche watched Kinn lower his head, uncharacteristically avoiding meeting his eyes.
“I thought I dreamt that at first.” He admitted.
Kinn’s expression darkened further as he confirmed, “You weren’t in your right mind.”
“You should’ve told me.” If he had… maybe things wouldn’t have escalated the way they did. But what alternative was there? They could never be normal, in a normal relationship.
“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know how you would react. I never know how you’ll react, you always surprise me.” Kinn lamented. “Besides which, I didn’t know if you were that way inclined.”
“Oh.” That made sense. Using his choice of words, Porsche explained, “Well I’m inclined both ways. So I wouldn’t have been mad about that.”
Kinn’s shoulders seemed to lose some tension, but not much. “I’m still your boss.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t want to work for me.”
Porsche snorted. “I know.”
“You wouldn’t be happy with me. You hate my life.”
“I do. So why did you do it?” He asked, sitting up. Another shiver ran through him so, under Kinn’s disapproving eyes, he pulled the covers up to his neck.
“You do something to me. You get under my skin.”
“You hate me half the time.”
“No I don’t. You annoy the shit out of me, but I don’t hate you. So,” he said, pondering his next move, “I’ll let you go. Or we can… do this right. Properly.” Kinn said.
“Do this or that?” Porsche asked, gesturing first to Kinn’s gun and then to the rumpled sheets.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he was clearly talking about them when he answered, “This. If you want. I’m never going to force you to do anything else again.”
Porsche couldn’t contain a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement.
“You’re the bossiest person I’ve ever met, of course you will.”
Kinn smiled slightly. “Yes, I take your point. But if you never want to see me again I understand why and – much as I might hate it – I’ll respect the decision.”
Looking down at the sheets to think, Porsche weighed up his next words. After the night he’d had, everything felt insanely confusing. What he and Kinn had done – the relief he had felt when he realised Kinn had saved him and was there – his confusion over their initial kiss… the drugs, the alcohol…
“I need to think. I should go home for a bit…”
“No.” Kinn said harshly, before moderating his tone in reflection of the promise he had made mere seconds ago. “No. We don’t know who attacked you yet. They might come after you again. You don’t want to expose your brother to that.”
He knew that was his weakness, the one way to get him to agree.
“Fine. But I can’t be on your detail for a while.”
“That is acceptable.” Kinn said reluctantly. He would find some other way to monitor Porsche’s safety.
“Tankhun?” He asked dubiously.
“I can assign you somewhere else. Arm could take you into the armoury. Work internal security for a while?”
“So I’ll be stuck inside the whole time?” He sighed, hating the thought. Still, at least he wouldn’t be forced into ridiculous costumes by Kinn’s older brother again.
“Not the whole time.” Kinn mused. “Not if we… were to go out?”
“On a date?”
“If you want. Only if you want.”
Porsche nodded slowly.
“Think about it.” Kinn urged.
“Okay.”
A knock on the door set Kinn back on his feet, striding over to find out who had disturbed them. It was only Pete with new clothes.
Porsche’s friend craned his neck around Kinn’s unmoveable body blocking the entrance to see how he was doing. Lifting a hand, Porsche waved at him with – what he hoped – was a reassuring smile.
Kinn came back briefly to pass over the shopping bag before stepping out, phone in hand, to give him some privacy while he dressed and time to consider his offer.
There was a lot to consider.