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The scent of expensive cologne and vanilla candles hung heavy in the air of their shared apartment. It was late, the kind of hour where the rest of Bangkok felt like a distant hum, leaving just the two of them in their private sanctuary.
Phuwin leaned against the kitchen island, swirling a glass of deep red wine. He looked effortlessly elegant, even with his silk shirt half-unbuttoned—a gift from Pond earlier that evening.
“You’re staring,” Phuwin said, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Pond didn’t look away. He crossed the room, his footsteps silent on the hardwood until he was standing directly in Phuwin’s space. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m allowed to appreciate the view.”
Pond reached out, his thumb tracing the sharp line of Phuwin’s jaw before settling on his lower lip. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the playful banter melting into something much thicker and more urgent.
Pond’s hand slid to the back of Phuwin’s neck, fingers tangling in those soft locks of hair, pulling him just a fraction closer. Phuwin set the wine glass down with a soft *clink*, his own hands finding purchase on Pond’s waist, dragging him in until there was no air left between them.
“You’re late with the dessert,” Phuwin whispered against Pond’s lips, his breath hitching as Pond nipped at the sensitive skin of his neck.
“I think,” Pond murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “I’d rather have this instead.”
Pond lifted Phuwin onto the marble countertop, the cool stone a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between them. Phuwin’s legs wrapped instinctively around Pond’s hips, pulling him flush against him. The kiss they shared wasn't gentle; it was hungry, tasting of wine and a year’s worth of shared secrets and growing tension.
Pond’s hands wandered, mapping the familiar curves of Phuwin’s ribs through the thin silk, while Phuwin’s grip tightened on Pond’s shoulders, his nails digging in slightly as the kiss deepened.
“Pond...” Phuwin gasped when they finally broke for air, his eyes dark and clouded with a mix of affection and raw desire.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Phuwin,” Pond breathed, his forehead resting against his partner's. “I’m never letting you go.”
The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but inside, the world had narrowed down to the space between them.
Before the heat had taken over, there was the quiet. Earlier that evening, Pond had surprised Phuwin not with a grand public gesture, but with a small, velvet-lined box tucked beside a bouquet of dark, dried roses—the kind that lasted forever.
Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, engraved with coordinates.
"The pier where we filmed our first scene," Pond had whispered, snapping the clasp shut around Phuwin’s wrist. "Where I realized I didn't want to just be your co-star."
Phuwin had looked up, his usual sharp wit failing him, replaced by a soft, vulnerable gaze. "You’re such a romantic, Naravit," he’d teased, though he hadn't pulled his hand away. "It’s a good thing I have something to keep you grounded." He’d then pulled out a sleek, designer watch—a classic piece, timeless and heavy. "So you’re never late for me again."
Now, the watch and the bracelet caught the dim light as Pond pressed Phuwin back against the cool marble of the kitchen island. The "thank yous" had long since evolved into something much more physical.
The air in the room felt heavy, charged with the kind of electricity that only comes from years of knowing exactly which buttons to push. Pond’s hands moved with a possessive slow-burn, sliding under the hem of Phuwin’s silk shirt. His palms were warm against Phuwin's skin, tracing the dip of his waist with a reverence that made Phuwin’s breath catch in his throat.
"Pond," Phuwin exhaled, his head tilting back as Pond’s lips found the pulse point just below his ear. "I thought... we were going to finish the wine."
"The wine can wait," Pond murmured, his voice a low vibration against Phuwin’s skin. He nipped at the sensitive cord of Phuwin’s neck, sending a shiver through the younger man that ended in a soft moan. "You’re much more intoxicating."
Phuwin’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Pond’s neck, pulling him closer, needing to bridge the microscopic gap between them. He wrapped his legs tighter around Pond’s waist, dragging him into a kiss that tasted of sweet grapes and deep, unyielding want. It was a rhythmic, desperate exchange—a language they had perfected in the quiet hours of their lives.
*
The harsh Bangkok sun was muffled by the heavy blackout curtains, leaving the bedroom in a hazy, amber glow.
Phuwin woke first, feeling the heavy weight of Pond’s arm draped over his chest. The sheets were a mess, tangled around their legs, and the scent of Pond’s cologne still lingered on the pillows. He stayed still for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Pond’s shoulders, the way he looked almost boyish when he was fast asleep.
Slowly, Pond stirred. His eyes blinked open, settling on Phuwin with an immediate, sleepy smile. He didn't say "Good morning"; instead, he pulled Phuwin closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck.
"Still here?" Pond mumbled, his voice gravelly from sleep.
"I have nowhere else I'd rather be," Phuwin replied, his fingers tracing the phantom marks of the night before on Pond’s shoulder.
Pond lifted his head, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Happy February 15th. Does this mean Valentine's Day is officially over, or can we go for round two?"
Phuwin rolled his eyes, but he didn't move to get out of bed. "You’re exhausted, Naravit. Admit it."
"Try me," Pond challenged, leaning in to close the distance once again.