Chapter Text
Mok had learned, over the years, that love lived in the small things. And sometimes that meant rushing to Bangkok with Rome, mere days after finding out that he’s pregnant with said man’s child, without even having the time or chance to tell that very man about it. Because even when he left his role as the two heirs’ primary source of security, his role had never truly left him.
Thee had never mentioned it. He was not even remotely alarmed, in fact, by the lack of a personal bodyguard, after Mok’s resignation from his lifetime role. But Mok was worried, and Rome, despite his whining and feigned annoyance on having to leave their blissful state back in Hongkong to come back here on short notice, had also been concerned for his older brother’s safety. But the man was stubborn to a fault— typical Arseni trait— and would never admit that he cared as deeply as he did.
So here they were, back to the place where their story had bloomed shyly, in glimpses and stolen moments, in resistance and longing. They were back, and everything felt the same, and the only difference was that they were together.
Rome lounged on the leather couch, one leg thrown over the other lazily, watching Mok move around the desk with that quiet efficiency that made Rome's heart do something stupid every single time. Mok was reading through some report, probably something about the estate, or security, or one of the thousand things that came with being tied to the Arseni family.
Rome didn't care about the report.
He cared about the way Mok's brow furrowed slightly when he concentrated. The way his glasses sat just a little crooked on his nose. The way his fingers moved across the paper, precise and careful.
"You got fired with ten years' worth of severance," Rome said, his voice carrying that teasing lilt he knew Mok couldn't resist. "If I were you, I'd leave everything behind and travel the world."
Mok's hand stilled on the report. He looked up, and there was something in his eyes, a familiar glint that meant he was about to give Rome a taste of his own medicine. Rome felt his heart skip a beat as they held each other’s gaze.
"That's an interesting suggestion," Mok replied, setting the report down. "Leave everything behind, huh?"
Rome felt his smirk falter. He watched Mok's lips curl into that small, knowing smile. Mok watched the realization dawn on his face—that this was a game, that Mok was teasing him— and suddenly he was on his feet, crossing the room before his brain could catch up to his body.
"Everything except me," Rome said, and he did not even care about how needy he sounded, how desperate. He was unashamed when it came to his yearning for Mok, and it was no secret to anyone who knew them. Mok's heart clenched at the earnest plea, innocent like a child’s. The heir to the Arseni family, reduced to a boy begging his lover to stay.
"If you're the exception," Mok teased a little more, letting a small smile play on his lips, "then it's not really everything, is it?"
As if Rome wasn’t Mok’s exception to everything. As if Mok wouldn’t give him anything he asked for. As if Mok could ever imagine life without him. As if Mok wasn’t hoping for a future together every second he breathed.
As if Mok could ever leave this behind even if he tried. As if he would ever want to.
He turned back to the report, pretending to dismiss Rome. But his heart was racing. The push and pull of their years of back and forths never truly left them even after they were together now, and Mok honestly didn’t want it to leave. It was just something theirs, and he cherished it.
Rome reached across and cupped the back of Mok’s neck. fingers curling against the warm skin there, turning him back so they faced each other again— typical Rome, never letting Mok escape, always pushing, always pulling him back. The touch was so familiar, so achingly tender, that Mok’s heart almost broke right there. He loved this man so much, he sometimes genuinely didn’t know what to do with it.
"Make me your exception," Rome said, his voice soft. Almost a whisper. Completely a plea.
"Khun Rome—"
"Because you're the exception to every rule."
The words hung between them, heavy and true. Mok watched Rome's expression, open and wanting, utterly honest in its vulnerability. This was the man he loved. This was the man who had made him believe in something more than duty and sacrifice and the cold weight of obligation. This was the man who made him believe he was capable of softness, of actual love. This was the man who was making him believe that he could give that love to something innocent.
He’d wanted to tell Rome right after he’d found out. But life had called upon them before Mok had had the chance to. And right now, with Rome looking at him with unguarded love, Mok didn’t know what to do with his heart trying to beat out of his chest. The words were right there, but the time, and their situation, held it back from being said.
So instead, Mok cupped his lover’s face. He gently traced Rome’s cheek with a gentle thumb. Rome blinked, slightly taken aback.
"What are you doing?" Rome asked. He seemed a little confused, yet he leaned into the touch still.
Mok’s throat worked, holding back the onslaught of emotion he felt every time he looked at Rome. He didn’t want to say something so important to his lover while both of them were rushed. He wanted it to be on a better note, he wanted it to be happier than their current circumstance.
So instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Rome’s. The kiss was soft, brief, almost barely a touch of their lips, but he hoped it would convey all that he couldn’t in words yet.
I love you. You’re my exception. You’re my everything.
Rome made a small sound against his mouth— something between surprise and contentment— and Mok felt his heart swell. When he pulled back, Rome's eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and Mok wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. To keep kissing him forever. To find the right moment and finally, finally tell him.
But he couldn’t. Not right now. Not under these circumstances.
"I'm sorry for upsetting you," Mok murmured instead, settling back into the chair. Because he really was sorry. Because he hated hurting Rome, especially any more than he already had with all the years of distance. But he had responsibilities that his conscience wouldn’t let him leave. "But I can't leave Khun Thee. At least not for now.
Rome's expression flickered. Maybe it was disappointment, and then understanding, or maybe resignation. But they all passed over his face in quick succession. Quick enough to be missed, because Rome understood, to a fault even, that the man he loved was bound by thread that went beyond duty. It was part of who Mok was. And so he never complained, not even when he was hurting. Mok hated it. But you could only get so far when you were an Arseni.
And then he leaned down, caging Mok in the chair with his arms. His face was inches away, and Mok could see the way his eyes had darkened, the way his breathing had quickened.
"You really think that's enough to make me cave?"
Mok's breath caught in his throat.
Rome was so close. Close enough that Mok could count the individual lashes framing those dark, earnest eyes. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off Rome's skin, could smell the faint trace of his cologne,and could see the way his lips were slightly parted, waiting.
He distantly wondered how he’d ever managed to resist Rome, how’d he ever managed to not give in. It had barely been months that they’d been together, and he already knew he couldn’t live without this anymore. And he understood why love could prove fatal; Rome could hurt him and he’d never complain, could kill him and he would not have regrets dying. And the thought of Rome not being his, the thought of losing him—
His thoughts were cut off as Rome leaned in and kissed him this time, deeper than he had, longer. Mok’s brain went completely blank. He did not even resist melting into it, leaning into whatever his lover was offering, his senses overwhelmed, utterly consumed by sensation that lead only to one conclusion; Kritdanai Rome Lee Arseni.
Mok kissed him back like a man drowning.
Like Rome was the only air in the room, the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. His hands found Rome's waist, pulling him closer, and Rome made a small sound of approval against his mouth— something between a gasp and a laugh— and Mok felt his heart stutter.
Every kiss was like the first, and neither of them could get enough. Rome’s hand was gentle as it cupped the back of Mok’s neck, and he pulled back almost unwillingly to breathe, both gasping for the oxygen that did not seem to reach their lungs fast enough. Mok kept looking at Rome’s face with glassy eyes, chest heaving in short puffs. Rome held his gaze, lip curled into something between a fond smile and a teasing smirk.
“Mok,” he kissed Mok’s cheek this time, softly, “Stop thinking so hard. I’m not mad at you for wanting to be dutiful.”
“But I’m not working for—-” Mok started to argue.
Rome cut him off,” And I know P’Kian was never just your boss. That is your best friend. We grew up together, Mok, I know you care.” Rome sighed, perching himself back against the desk, taking one of Mok’s hands in his. “And I love you, anyway. I’m happy we’re together, and I’m happy you’re mine. It doesn’t matter where in the world we are.”
Mok dropped his gaze to their joined hands, throat tightening. Rome was too good sometimes, too sweet, and too understanding, and Mok felt terrible for putting the younger at crossroads he shouldn’t have to be torn between.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Mok promised. I’ll tell you about our baby, and I hope you’ll be happy, and we’ll have someone we’ll call both of ours. We just have to wait a little more, just until things settle over soon.
Rome just chuckled, pressing kisses to Mok’s knuckles, muttering under his breath, “You’re impossible.”
Mok didn’t deflect, just sighed, letting Rome have his way yet again. And honestly, he had no regrets.