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Phaya would have known that he was meant for Tharn, even if he hadn't known .
If he hadn't remembered the feel of Tharn's gentle fingers soothing his wounded shoulder after the battle with the Naga prince, Phaya would still know his touch like a familiar ache, a bone-deep sense of belonging that no one else could ever stir in him. If he hadn't dreamed of Tharn's proud Nagini grace and haughty sincerity, Phaya would still have felt this pristine reverence in the presence of such elegant strength and bravery. Without the knowledge of the wild passion and the desperate fight to preserve their love that has carried their souls forward through the ages, Phaya would still have risked everything to hold Tharn, safe and whole, in his trembling and devoted embrace.
It was true that he and Tharn were living the continuation of an ancient, epic story of love and sacrifice, but that did not diminish the fact that this Tharn held the heart and soul of this Phaya in his own healing hands.
Being with Tharn at the edge of the glassy pool--finally kissing him the way he had longed to ever since they first ran out of that cafe, Tharn’s pulse racing under Phaya’s fingertips as they sprinted, leaving chaos in their wake--was wild, intense and surprising, an expansive tide, a revelation. But it was also home , the only thing he needed to be doing in that moment and possibly every moment thereafter. Phaya found himself bordering on overwhelmed by the intensity, the chemistry binding them together in a way that was too welcoming to be anything other than timeless and too sparkling and electric not to be brand new.
And in at least one respect, Phaya couldn't forget that for Tharn this was new in a starkly literal way. He didn't place much importance on the concept of virginity, outside of a wish to make Tharn feel loved, comfortable and empowered, the architect of this first experience of heightened vulnerability and trust with another person. Tharn would never let anyone push him to do anything he didn't want to--it was one of the things that made Phaya fall in love with him a little more every day. But Phaya felt almost desperate to be exactly what Tharn needed, to anticipate his desires and leave him satisfied in every way that one person can for another. He wanted Tharn, wanted him from the most central, vital part of himself, but it was a wanting that was inseparable from the primal imperative to surround and serve him with every breath in his body, if Tharn would have him.
He could tell that Tharn, in his turn, also felt the weight of their connection, a gravity like that which pulls the moon towards the earth even as it draws the earth's tide to meet the moon. For someone who had spent so much energy holding Phaya at arm’s length in fear of reliving the tragedies of the past--perhaps because of the strain of keeping at bay the force that drew their souls inevitably toward each other--Tharn seemed to have finally let the wave crash over him, no longer fighting the current but letting it tug him down along with Phaya until they were both surrounded by nothing but their hunger for each other.
It was easy to sink into this moment. The cool water against his ankles provided a dizzying contrast with the heat building between the two of them. Tharn's touch sizzled against Phaya's skin, fingertips that had whispered warmth into his ancient wounds now skimming under his shirt sleeve to sear possessively into the contours of his biceps. His kisses were eager, entitled in their claim on Phaya’s mouth, and Phaya melted lazily into them. It was becoming clear that far from needing reassurance or guidance, Tharn was confident in his desires and was finally ready to follow them without reservation. He clung to him in a way that held all of Phaya’s scattered pieces together but unraveled his composure and rendered his vague notions of cautious chivalry irrelevant. As in all things, Tharn held him with a certainty and strength that allowed Phaya to somehow float and fall in a single sigh.
What had started as a tender kiss--the first true sweet taste, in this life, of countless more--unfurled into something hot and consuming as Tharn's hands became more assertive. His grip on Phaya’s arm inched higher, rucking up his sleeve as it went. Tharn's other hand, which had been intertwined with Phaya’s in his lap, released its hold to slide across Phaya's thigh and curl exploratory fingers down toward his inseam. Phaya's stomach swooped at the feeling and his breath stuttered between them. He found his own hands desperately seeking more of Tharn, fingers threading into soft hair and absently tugging at the fabric of his shirt.
Then with a subtle gasp, Tharn suddenly pulled back from the kiss, just enough to rest their foreheads together with only warm exhales between them. Through his own fluttering lashes, Phaya could see that Tharn's eyes were closed in a rare expression of delicate surrender, like everything he needed was in front of him and all he had to do was bask in it. They stayed that way for a moment, Phaya breathless both from the kiss and from Tharn's beauty. The flood of sensations made his head spin, and he was still torn between professing his undying love yet again and diving into another kiss when Tharn wordlessly stood up from the poolside. He looked down at Phaya, his dark, enigmatic eyes somehow aloof and alluring at the same time. With a gentle swipe of his thumb over Phaya’s cheek, he stepped away from him and walked into the house.
Watching Tharn's retreating form with an awestruck gaze, Phaya tried to collect himself before scrambling to his feet and following after. He left some distance between them, unsure of what had made Tharn back away. He didn't get the impression that he was uncomfortable or anxious, but even in his addled, blissed out state, Phaya would have happily endured eight more hours in that icy bath from training camp before pressuring Tharn in any way.
When he got inside, Tharn was standing serenely at the foot of his bed, contemplating it in a sort of disinterested but mildly curious manner. He turned to look at Phaya in a similar way, but with a bit more heat behind his eyes. Phaya halted, a few meters away, feeling more exposed than he ever had standing naked in an echoing locker room full of boisterous police trainees.
“It's been a long day,” Tharn said in a tone that sounded final but certainly not tired. Phaya just nodded, trying not to look the unsettling mix of confused and turned on that he felt. “I need to take a shower. We both do.”
“Mm,” Phaya agreed, and the room echoed with the space between their words.
He cleared his throat, then finally broke free of his trance--induced by thoughts of Tharn, beautiful and wet, in his shower--long enough to grab a towel out of his linen closet and offer it to him.
“You can go first.” Phaya was proud of how steady his voice sounded.
When Tharn reached out for the towel, he covered Phaya's hands with his own and gazed up at him with eyes that were now positively sparking with intent.
“Your shower is big enough for both of us, don't you think?”
When Phaya's open mouth failed to produce any words, Tharn added airily, “We used to shower together a lot at the camp.”
Phaya closed his eyes briefly in an attempt to compose himself. “It's different now.”
Tharn stepped forward into Phaya’s space, dark eyes burning into his.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”