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Phuwin realises early that he doesn’t love Pond gently. He loves him like a border - marked, patrolled, sacred.
And Pond realises just as early that he doesn’t want gentleness from Phuwin. He wants intensity. Wants to feel claimed so deeply that even his shadow grows used to Phuwin’s shape.
Over time, their life becomes a choreography understood only by them.
Like in the way Phuwin never walks into a room without looking for Pond first.
Or how Pond always stays close to Phuwin in public - a silent claim.
It isn’t just because of work that they maintain such physical closeness. It is a quiet calculation, a rhythm they both learn without speaking. An unspoken understanding that Phuwin likes having Pond within reach; Pond knows it is really so Phuwin can maintain a line of sight with him, mostly to be assured that Pond’s not getting himself into situations that give anyone a chance to be close with him.
This proximity allows Phuwin to listen, judge, approve or disapprove with a single look.
And Pond follows those judgments with a fierce satisfaction.
They look, from a distance, like partners with the best chemistry, or for those who are let in on their open secret, two people simply in love. But Pond understands the rules woven into Phuwin’s affection.
If anyone approaches him to get acquainted, Pond will keep the interaction polite and short, careful not to be too friendly with anyone except those Phuwin is comfortable with. It’s not that Phuwin doesn’t trust Pond (because he wholeheartedly does) but it’s any stranger who comes close to Pond that he doesn’t.
Pond realises this when they attend a brand event once, and a lady sitting a seat away from him initiates a conversation, leaning in close, hand almost brushing Pond’s arm.
Without even turning towards Phuwin who is sitting on his other side, Pond can feel his eyes on him. He doesn’t need to look at Phuwin to picture the stillness, the sharpness, the glittering warning in his eyes.
Pond makes a decision in that moment. He gives a brief response, ending the conversation quickly, before subtly creating a safe distance between the lady and himself, leaning into Phuwin like the world tilts that way (because it actually does).
“What does she want?” Phuwin asks, quiet enough that nobody can hear; But of course, Pond can.
“It’s nothing important.” Pond whispers, barely moving his lips.
“It took you away from me.” Phuwin murmurs.
“Just for a minute.”
“A minute is too long.”
Pond feels heat coil low in his belly - fear, yes, but something else too.
Something hungry.
“I’ll try to avoid next time.”
While Pond knows it’s impossible to avoid interaction at such social events with other guests, he still can’t help but say what he believes Phuwin wants to hear.
Phuwin’s breath leaves him in a soft exhale, relief twisted with possessiveness.
“Good.”
Phuwin’s expression melts back into that warm curve of a smile, the one that makes everyone think he is gentle, and more importantly, the one that Pond will do anything to protect.
Their friends notice the shift, of course.
Some drift apart. Some try to interfere.
Pond shuts the door gently on each one, one by one. Phuwin never asks for this. But Pond sees the relief in his eyes every time his social circle shrinks. And that’s all that matters.
One evening, as they sit next to each other on the sofa in Phuwin’s condo, Phuwin notices a message pop up on Pond’s phone. He doesn’t manage to catch sight of who the sender is but he sees that it’s yet another invite to a TikTok dance collab.
“I’m gonna say no.” Pond takes the initiative to clarify, knowing that Phuwin has read the message, “You know I’ve been declining every request for some time now. This one is no different.”
“You’re giving up a lot.” Phuwin mumbles.
Pond shakes his head, “I’m choosing you.”
Phuwin’s breath trembles, “I don’t deserve this.”
“Why not?” Pond reassures, “I want to anyway.”
“You’re too good at calming me down,” Phuwin bites his bottom lip, “Makes me worse.”
“I don’t mind being the one who grounds you,” Pond says, his voice has a hint of a smile, “I like it, actually.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I do.”
Phuwin’s breath hitches, the tension between them tightening like a drawn bowstring.
“Do you know how crazy this is?” Phuwin thinks out loud, “How wrong?”
“Is it?”
“Pond.” Phuwin frowns.
“I don’t think about that.” Pond shrugs, “I only care about you. Us.”
His words ignite something molten in Phuwin. Possessiveness, relief, longing - it all blurs together into something unnamed and fierce.
Pond shifts just enough to tilt his chin and press a small, unhurried kiss to the top of Phuwin’s head. Phuwin’s eyes flutter close, and he sinks even further into the warmth of Pond’s side, arms coming around Pond’s waist and pulling him in as if he can fuse them together.
Pond looks down just as Phuwin looks up to kiss him, urgent and claiming, as if he needs to taste proof that he is his.
Pond responds with equal heat, fingers sliding into Phuwin’s long hair, anchoring him. Not trapped - anchored. There is a difference, and they both know it, even if no one else understands.
When they finally break apart, Phuwin rests his forehead on Pond’s chest.
“You should want more freedom than this.”
“I don’t,” Pond replies, “Not from you.”
Phuwin laughs, low and disbelieving, “You say that like it’s romantic.”
“Isn’t it?” Pond grins.
Phuwin lifts his head to look into Pond’s eyes, “If this ever gets too much... you’ll tell me. Right?”
“I will.” Pond promises.
And he means it.
But he also knows he is already in far too deep for that day to ever come.
They lean into each other, their breaths mingling, the tension between them easing only because they acknowledge it, holding it up to the light like something fragile.
Sometimes, Phuwin apologises for being “too much”. Sometimes, Pond apologises for liking it. They both know neither of them is actually sorry.
Nights are when their world tightens the most - when the rest of the city blurs behind windows, and nothing exists but the way they gravitate towards each other, pulled by a desire sharpened into something almost dangerous.
They’re again in Phuwin’s condo after finishing a work event. Pond comes to stand behind Phuwin in the tiny open kitchen as Phuwin reaches inside the fridge for a drink. He can feel the tension in the way Phuwin’s shoulders rise with every breath, the way he won’t quite turn around to look at him.
Guilt twists in Pond’s chest. He can guess why Phuwin is giving him the silent treatment. So he slips his arms around Phuwin’s waist, easing his chest gently against Phuwin’s back.
“You gave one too many friends hugs like this tonight.” Phuwin stays stiff, jaw set, his voice low, rough with something he never bothers to disguise anymore.
Pond freezes for a half-second, breath catching, “They’re friends I thought you’re ok with.”
“Mmm...” Phuwin hums, deciding he doesn’t need a drink anymore as he closes the fridge door, “But you know I still don’t like it when you get too affectionate with everyone. I barely had your attention.”
“I know,” Pond’s voice carries a warm ache, something soft and almost tender, “That’s why I’m here with you now.”
Pond tightens his hug around Phuwin - a silent apology passing through touch rather than speech.
Slowly, Phuwin exhales, the fight draining from his body as he leans back into the warmth behind him, his hands coming to rest over Pond’s forearms.
“Turn around.” Pond whispers, his lips brushing Phuwin’s ear, “Let me see you.”
Phuwin does, letting Pond crowd him gently back against the fridge.
Pond braces one hand beside Phuwin’s hip, the other cups Phuwin’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek, “You’re jealous.”
“Not exactly,” Phuwin says, eyes darkening, “More like… Possessive. Hungry. A little unhinged.”
Pond gulps, the admission sparking something in him he won’t confess to anyone but Phuwin.
“You like that,” Phuwin says out loud what Pond is feeling, “Don’t you?”
Pond meets his gaze, pupils dark, chest rising with shallow breaths. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, Pond lifts Phuwin’s hand and presses a slow, unmistakably deliberate kiss to his wrist, right over his racing pulse.
Phuwin inhales sharply when realisation hits him.
“You did it on purpose.” Phuwin laughs, a soft, breathless sound, almost disbelieving, “You really like when I get possessive.”
“I love it.”
Phuwin removes his hand from Pond’s grip and lifts it to Pond’s jaw. His thumb brushes Pond’s lower lip, slow, reverent despite the possessiveness behind it. Pond leans into the touch, lips parting around Phuwin’s thumb in a way that makes the air between them hot and electric.
“I love you.” Pond’s voice is barely a murmur.
Phuwin’s control slips for a moment - his other hand now at Pond’s waist, pulling him closer, erasing the last bit of space between them, lips almost touching. Pond feels the pressure from Phuwin’s hand — not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind him which direction to lean, whom he belongs to, whom he needs to be careful for.
“Phuwin...” Pond sighs, a warning and a plea.
“What?” Phuwin teases, “Too much?”
“Never.”
Phuwin smiles, slow and sly, “Good. Because we’re only just starting.”
Phuwin pushes Pond back towards his bedroom, his movements fluid, intentional. Pond lets himself be guided - another small surrender he gives freely. When his calves hit the edge of the bed, Pond falls back and Phuwin naturally straddles him, settling into his lap.
“Tell me you’re mine.” Phuwin says, words trembling with intensity.
Pond doesn’t hesitate. He leans in, eyes burning with the same hunger.
“I’m yours,” Pond’s lips hovers just below Phuwin’s, “Only yours. You don’t even need to ask.”
Phuwin presses his forehead to Pond’s as if grounding himself. His hands roam up Pond’s chest, intimate enough to make Pond’s heart race.
“Remember this,” Phuwin mumbles, voice thick, “Because I don’t share.”
“And I don’t want to be shared,” Pond answers, hands going under Phuwin’s oversized shirt to feel bare skin, “I want all of this. I want you jealous. I want you close. I want the way you look at me when someone else has my attention.”
This breaks the last of Phuwin’s hesitation. He captures Pond’s lips in a kiss that is deep, consuming, everything they have both been holding back all evening - full of need, of claim, of mutual obsession. Pond yields instantly, eagerly, hands coming around Phuwin’s hips to pull him impossibly closer.
Phuwin presses Pond deeper into the mattress, not roughly, but with undeniable intent. Pond lets out a low, involuntary moan that makes Phuwin wrap his hand around the nape of his neck, tangling his fingers in Pond’s hair.
“Show me how much you want me.” Phuwin murmurs against Pond’s lips, breathless, with a smile he saves for no one else.
And Pond does.
With Phuwin giving just as fiercely in return.
The world shrinks down to heat and want and the unspoken vow that neither of them will ever let anyone else get this close.
No words are needed.
Only the closeness.
Only the tension.
Only the gravity that pulls them into the same dangerous orbit again and again.
Not perfect. Not healthy.
But undeniably theirs.