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First isn’t his boyfriend.
Khaotung is laying on the bed, reviewing the script for their scenes tomorrow. He’s had his lines memorized since before they’d come to location but he likes going over them again in the light of how the day’s scenes played out. It’s a little easier to take notes, however, when there isn’t a 6 foot equivalent of a golden retriever tucked into his side, head resting on his arm.
He can feel First’s piercing gaze, looking up at him solemnly as Khaotung does his best to work.
After another futile fifteen minutes, Khaotung sighs and decides to give up and finally directs his gaze down to meet First’s.
‘Yes?’
First shakes his head, like he’s surprised Khaotung has stopped reading the script, ‘Nothing. I just wanted to be close to you.’
Khaotung turns away just slightly, tightening his hold around first so as to not dislodge him from his side, and puts the script away on the bedside table. When he turns back to First, he holds him properly with both arms. First’s hand comes to rest on Khaotung’s waist, caressing lightly. First looks surprised, ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ He says and has the audacity to sound apologetic.
‘You’re not. I like being close to you.’ Khaotung says, voice gentle, honeyed fingers scratching soft patterns on First’s forearm.
First might not be his boyfriend.
But if there would be a boyfriend, it would be First.
Khaotung catches the beginnings of the smile that First hides into his chest. His voice is only slightly muffled as he takes in a deep breath of Khaotung’s freshly showered scent, ‘You’re always like this when you play him.’ First says, lightly chastising.
Khaotung wants to say that he’s like this even when he’s not playing Ayan but it’s not like First has believed him the first three dozen or so times that Khaotung has told him. So he settles for, ‘And you’re always like this when you play him.’
First’s face emerges from his chest with a little pout, ‘That’s not true!’ First realizes he’s been played when he sees Khaotung’s mischievous grin, pout intensifying before he goes back to hiding his face, ‘I just-is it bad that I have all these-’ First pauses and Khaotung thinks the way First’s lips brush ever so slightly against his collarbones was meant to be a kiss. First sighs in resignation, then relaxes so completely in his arms that Khaotung can feel the pretense dropping from between them.
‘I just feel good.’ He finally says, snuggling in and draping his leg over Khaotung’s, drawing their bodies closer still.
Khaotung understands him very well, it's easy to forget cameras even when they're in his face whenever he's in scenes with First. Easier still, when the shots are set up from far away, three universes between them and the crew; their lines coming to them like thoughts, the feelings blooming in their wake like they're their own.
But Khaotung wouldn't be Khaotung if he doesn't tease First, ‘After yelling at me?’ First doesn’t hesitate to say, ‘Yes. That felt really nice.’ But then he goes a little quiet, fingers dipping underneath the hem of Khaotung’s shirt to caress his back gently, ‘Also the making out.’
Khaotung knows that it’s only a matter of time till First is ready to accept that they are boyfriends. He understands First though; their relationship, just as it is, is already the best thing in their lives. Changing anything about it feels momentous and terrifying. And he is just as reluctant to rush it as First.
Just not reluctant enough to let slip an opportunity to make out with First away from cameras. Khaotung presses a few intentful kisses into the top of First’s head. He then makes his way down to First’s temples, First loosens his hold on him just a little so Khaotung can slide his lips down to First’s cheek.
‘Would you mind skipping the yelling now?’ Khaotung whispers when he makes it to his earlobe, biting gently. First shivers and Khaotung can feel the goosebumps that have started mottling First’s arms.
‘Yes.’ First says, ‘it’s not the same if I don’t yell at you.’ He tries to sound annoyed but it is about as effective when he’s doing it as Akk.
As in, not at all.
Khaotung kisses him then, unable to take the teasing any longer. There was a time that Khaotung thought that First was just like this, naturally flirty and painfully oblivious about it. Now, he’s not so sure. First doesn’t respond immediately, holding onto the pretense just like Akk, as Khaotung presses short, coaxing pecks to his lips. First’s lips eventually relax, meets Khaotung’s kisses, slowly building the intensity of them from one to the next until he’s obediently sucking on Khaotung’s tongue, both of them hard in their shorts.
‘Fine,’ First says, the words coming out in between heavy breaths, ‘I can postpone the yelling till tomorrow.’
Khaotung smiles, his eyes disappearing into those little crescents of joy as he rolls them over so that First is pinned beneath him, ‘Can’t wait.’ He says, completely seriously. First does need to yell at him more, the more he learns to communicate his displeasure with Khaotung, the faster they can accept the romantic nature of their relationship. And so-
‘Do you think they fucked on that pier?’
‘Ai’ Tung!’ First screams and punches his bicep hard. Then realizes just how hard when Khaotung's arms buckle and he falls closer to First with a wince. First rubs at the injured spot soothingly, ‘No they didn’t.’
‘I know what happens in the script. I meant them, if they were real.’
‘So did I.’
Khaotung pouts, ‘You’re no fun.’
‘I just know my character.’ First says, like he’s running out of patience. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Khaotung’s shorts, pulls on it like he’s simply testing the give of the elastic, ‘Akk would insist they wait till they get back to the room before fucking.’
They look at each other for one heated moment, before their faces break out into toothy grins.
Khaotung would argue that Ayan can definitely convince Akk to skip the modesty. But First has pulled him in by the hairs on his nape and pressed their lips together once more and he forgets what he was about to say.
‘Easier to do this on a bed.’ First whispers before he rolls them over so that Khaotung is the one pinned underneath him. He doesn’t give Khaotung time to think of a witty answer - not that Khaotung could have with First’s boner pressed to his hip like that - before he kisses him again.
This time they only emerge when they’re lightheaded from the lack of breath and the need to feel each other’s skin so potent that they’d have clawed through the soft fabric of their pajamas otherwise.
And when the breaths are caught and shirts discarded, they fall right back into each other, the fervor building anew.