Work Text:
Kinn quickly learns that once Porsche sets his stubborn mind to something, he can accomplish anything. Be it his training or brewing a proper cup of coffee, his determination is unyielding, and there are very few things he will give up on once he decides to master them.
When it comes to sucking cock, Porsche still needs a little guidance. There is no doubt he’ll get there, but in the meantime, it’s no hardship for Kinn to take the lead.
“Think of what you like,” he tells Porsche one night as he keels between Kinn’s spread thighs, his cheek nuzzling against the base of Kinn’s hardening length. Kinn lazily runs his fingers through Porsche’s hair, encouraging it. Porsche had long since shed his uniform’s outer layers and is down to a thin undershirt, and the lean lines of his shoulders and biceps are nothing short of a feast for Kinn’s eyes. “Remember the women you’ve been with, what they’ve done that you enjoyed.”
Porsche looks up at him, a fierce glint in his eyes. “You want me to think about women right now?” he asks, teasing. “As long as you don’t get jealous, Khun Kinn.”
Kinn tightens his grip on Porsche’s hair, tugging his head back enough to look down at him straight on. The sharp point of his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, but he doesn’t waver under Kinn’s gaze.
His strong, gorgeous, defiant Porsche.
Kinn barely resists the urge to bend him over his knee.
“Brat,” he mutters, pouring a lifetime of love into the word. Kinn releases Porsche’s hair, settling his palm against Porsche’s jawline instead. “Put that mouth to better use.”
Porsche turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of Kinn’s wrist. “You’re the boss,” he concedes with a chuckle, parting his lips over the flushed tip of Kinn’s cock and suckling on the head.
Kinn is nearly unable to take the sight of it. He shuts his eyes for a moment, taking a stabilizing breath. When he opens them again, Porsche is forcing more of Kinn’s cock into his mouth, struggling against the dryness.
Taking another handful of Porsche’s hair, Kinn gently pulls him off. “Get it wet first,” he directs gently, pleased when Porsche starts licking up the underside with broad, slick swipes of his tongue.
“Like that?” Porsche says, wrapping a hand around the base of Kinn’s length. Porsche waits for Kinn’s nod before he slowly takes him in his mouth again.
“Good,” Kinn murmurs patiently. He pets the buzzed hair at the nape of Porsche’s neck, brushes his thumb against the hammering pulse over Porsche’s carotid artery. “There you go, my love. Continue.”
It’s late, well after curfew. The only source of light in Kinn’s office comes from a dim desk lamp. A dark, heavy rain beats against the windows surrounding them, thunder rolls above them and the storm covers them like a blanket. Shielded from the rest of the world, there is nothing more than this; Kinn’s steady hand and Porsche’s eager mouth.
Kinn knows his size takes some getting to. He feel’s Porsche’s lips stretch around his girth, mouth filling to capacity, and further still. Kinn gives into his temptations this time, thrusting shallowly into the welcoming heat, feeling Porsche’s throat spasming in protest.
Porsche moans, a dark flush colouring his cheeks. Tears spring into his eyes, glistening in the warm lamplight, but he bears it, gazing up at Kinn. Pleading. Trusting.
Kinn relents, and Porsche coughs as he pulls away.
“Well done,” Kinn says, reassuring. He sets the pad of his thumb on Porsche’s plush lower lip.
“Not done yet,” Porsche insists with a slightly furrowed brow, his voice already taking on a beautiful rasp. He bats Kinn’s hand away. “I can do this.”
Kinn smiles, heavy-lidded. “I know you can,” he says, and bites his tongue before he says anything more. Not yet, not while Porsche can talk back, can wave off the compliments as though Kinn is the type of man to speak superfluously. He can wait until Porsche is choking on it again, when all he can do is kneel there and take it while his ears heat up and his own cock leaks traitorously in his pants.
The only thing Porsche hates more than being praised is how much he loves being praised.
“Deeper now,” Kinn instructs. Porsche’s eyes flutter shut this time, the very picture of concentration. He minds his teeth and breathes evenly through his nose, but his throat continues to fight against him, leaving him gagging as Kinn pets his hair soothingly.
There is a small, dark part of Kinn that considers pinching Porsche’s nose shut and fucking his face to completion.
Instead, he reaches for the crystal whiskey glass on his desk and takes a fortifying sip. “Enough.”
Porsche is drooling now, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, soaking into Kinn’s trousers. He looks up at Kinn, a question in his eyes. Worry.
“Porsche,” Kinn says, softer this time. “Enough.”
Porsche reluctantly pulls off and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “I wanted you to—I wanted to make you—” he starts, then sighs and rests his head against Kinn’s thigh. “You know. Don’t make me say it.”
Even if he still can’t say aloud how much he wants Kinn’s come, the ego boost is monumental.
“I do know,” Kinn says, rising to his feet and lifting Porsche up by the arms. “But right now,” he continues, pulling him close, nosing along Porsche’s cheekbone to whisper into his ear, “it’s been a long day, I have an early meeting tomorrow, and I need to be inside you.”
Porsche looks at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees quickly, a grin finally settling over his features. “Okay. Fine. We can do that instead.”
Kinn tilts Porsche’s chin up with a finger, capturing his lips in a slow, filthy kiss, tasting himself on Porsche’s tongue. “Up on the desk for me,” Kinn says, hands on Porsche’s hips, manhandling him into position.
They move together with practiced ease; shoving papers and pens out of the way, both working to undo Porsche’s fly and ease his pants and underwear down, just enough to free one leg to prop up on the desk. It spreads him open obscenely, a mouth-watering sight, and Kinn laments the fact that he doesn’t have an hour to spare eating Porsche out until his knees give out. It’s still something they haven’t done yet—not for a lack of Kinn trying—but there’ll be plenty of time to work Porsche up to it.
Kinn has already been a number of Porsche’s tentative-but-enthusiastic firsts. Selfishly, Kinn intends to be his last.
He drops a wet kiss to Porsche’s tailbone, in the prime real estate between the dimples of his lower back, making him tense up in surprise.
“Startled me,” Porsche complains.
“You should get a tattoo there,” Kinn says half-seriously, pulling open his top desk drawer and reaching to the back to grab a half-empty bottle of lube.
“Of what?”
Kinn pours a little lube into his hand, wincing from the cold feeling of it as he slicks himself up. “My name, of course.”
Porsche huffs a laugh. “Get my name tattooed on you first, and I’ll think about it.”
Kinn raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think I would?” He nudges his cockhead right up against Porsche’s hole.
“Nah,” Porsche says, with troubling dismissiveness. “Getting a lover’s name on you? Wouldn’t that make you look… I don’t know, weak?”
You’re not my lover, Kinn thinks desperately, you’re my life. Nothing has ever made me feel stronger than this.
He starts pressing forward, pressing in, hands settled around the dip of Porsche’s waist. Porsche groans, the muscles of his back flexing as he arches up and bears down.
“Beautiful,” Kinn says, almost breathless, watching rapt as he sinks deeper into him. “Fucking beautiful, wish you could see how well you take it, like you were made for me,” he goes on, gliding a finger across the seam where Porsche’s body opens up to him. “I’ll make you ride me in front of a mirror next time. What do you think?”
Porsche makes a noise of complaint, dropping his head and shaking it. “From now on, don’t ever say I’m the one who talks too much,” he says through gritted teeth.
With a laugh, Kinn grabs Porsche’s hair again and tugs him back the last inch, until Kinn’s hips sit flush against the curve of Porsche’s ass. This time, they both moan.
Kinn holds him there, speared on this cock, hands wandering under Porsche’s undershirt to pinch at his nipples. “I don’t know what I love more,” Kinn says roughly. “Your mouth, or this perfect, tight little ass.”
“Obviously not my mouth,” Porsche says, glancing back at Kinn over his shoulder, lips red from being bitten. “I tried, you know.”
Still a sore spot, then.
“Hey. If you want me to finish in your mouth,” Kinn growls, sliding almost all the way out and brutally thrusting back in, nearly knocking Porsche off the table. “Say it. Say you want my come all over your face.”
Porsche drops down to his elbows and moans. “Ugh, stop,” he says.
Kinn scoffs, gripping Porsche’s hips tight, pounding into him. “You didn’t say no. You’re real mouthy until it’s something you actually want.”
He notices Porsche reach for his dick and considers knocking his hand away, until he sees that Porsche is just holding it still, tight at the base, like it’s all he can do to stop himself from coming.
Kinn smiles to himself, feeling wild with it, all the control he keeps within his firm grasp starting to slip away. “I’ve never met someone so desperate for my cock. You’ll take it in any way I give it to you, isn’t that right? I could fuck you with my lucky gun and you’d beg for more.”
“Fuck, Kinn,” Porsche groans, tightening up and shivering.
“Yeah, I thought so,” Kinn murmurs, forcing Porsche’s chest down, flat on the desk, then covers his back and licks up the side of Porsche’s neck. His skin is so soft there, almost as silky and hot as he feels inside. The salt of Porsche’s sweat from a day of work—of serving Kinn with his body, with his life—is sweet on Kinn’s tongue.
“So what’s it gonna be,” he asks as he takes Porsche’s earlobe between his teeth. The sounds Porsche makes grow louder and louder under the rolling storm that rattles the windows. “You want me to make a sloppy fucking mess out of your hole, or do you need it somewhere else?”
“Ah, ah,” is all Porsche can manage, eyes screwed shut and gasping like he can’t catch a full breath.
It is a marvel watching the strength and resolve of his body break down once he has a dick in him.
“I need an answer, sweetheart,” Kinn demands, taking Porsche roughly by the jaw and forcing him to look at him. “Just say it.”
Porsche bares his teeth, giving him a weak approximation of a glare. “Face, you fucking jerk.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kinn smirks, sinking his teeth into the meat of Porsche’s shoulder just to hear him gasp. Kinn straightens up and takes hold of both of Porsche’s arms, encircling his wrists, pinning them behind his back. “Almost there,” he says reassuringly. “You can take a little more.”
“Yeah, more,” Porsche slurs, pliant, his cheek pressed against the desk. His mouth is agape and his drool leaks onto the dark, finished wood. Even under the dim light, Kinn can see Porsche’s pupils are blown.
“Yeah,” Kinn echoes, his own breathing starting to falter. “God, look at you, Porsche,” he says with emphasis, speeding up his thrusts, feeling Porsche’s fingers scrambling to grab onto Kinn’s as he squeezes down around his cock. “So sweet, so good for me. It feels like fucking heaven inside you.”
That elicits a pitiful, breathless laugh out of him. “Stop,” Porsche whines.
“Never,” Kinn promises with a grin. “What do you need, beloved? My hand? Want me to get you off now?”
Porsche nods feverishly. Kinn pulls him upright and reaches around him, sliding his hand down Porsche’s clenched abs until he can wrap his fist around Porsche’s dick. He’s so wet, Kinn almost wonders if he’s already come, and it only takes a few pulls until Porsche’s head is lolling back, body tensing, hole spasming, Kinn’s name falling out of his mouth.
Kinn grinds against him, milking him through it, nosing at the tender skin behind his ear. “Easy. I’ve got you.”
Porsche cries out, a long and drawn out noise, shivering until Kinn releases him. “You’re a sadist,” he accuses, teeth chattering.
“Only when you need me to be,” Kinn says honestly.
He pulls out and it feels fucking awful, and he makes quick work of pushing Porsche down to his knees. “Open up, eyes on me,” Kinn instructs. With one hand in Porsche’s hair to steady him and one hand over his cock, Kinn bites his lower lip and watches his come splash across Porsche’s chin, cheeks, and open mouth. The heated look in Porsche’s eyes steals Kinn’s breath, and it takes him a moment to remember to nudge Porsche’s mouth shut.
Porsche swallows wetly, eyelids fluttering. Kinn considers making him say thank you, but then Porsche coughs and Kinn suddenly wants nothing more than to gather him up in his arms.
Kinn tucks himself back into his trousers and sits back in his desk chair, pulling Porsche up and into his lap. They’re nearly matched in height and stature and yet there are still times when Porsche feels immeasurably small to him, especially when he’s loose-limbed and quiet like this.
“Gimme a sec,” Porsche murmurs, sagging bonelessly against him. “My legs—”
“Shh, settle,” Kinn whispers. He gets Porsche to raise his arms to pull his undershirt up and off him, using it to wipe gently at his face, mopping up most of the tears, come, and saliva.
And because he’s only just a man, still powerless to his own desire, Kinn licks the rest of it off.
“Ugh. Gross. Disgusting,” Porsche grumbles, making no efforts to stop him, eventually starting to laugh and squirm as Kinn gets closer to his ear.
“Not at all. This is just what happens when you beg for it on your face.”
Porsche wrinkles his nose, turning to hide his face in the crook of Kinn’s neck. “I didn’t… Beg for it,” he says softly, nearly inaudible under the heavy rain.
Kinn runs a soothing hand up and down Porsche’s back. “You didn’t,” Kinn concedes. “But it would’ve been easier if you did.”
Porsche snorts. “You always want me to beg you.”
“I do,” Kinn agrees easily. “I like it, and I don’t deny you anything when you do it.”
Porsche hums contemplatively, catching one of Kinn’s hands and lacing their fingers together. “Yeah, well. Everything is different with you. You always know what I need anyway, even when I don’t say it, even when I don’t know I need it. So what’s the point?”
Kinn sits with the weight of that trust for a moment, lets it fill his chest until it swells, before pressing a solid kiss to Porsche’s shoulder. “Brat,” he whispers. “I love you.”
Grinning, Porsche slings an arm around Kinn’s neck. “I love you, too. Can I use your shower? Pete clogged our drain.”
Kinn gives him a long look. “I’m going to eat you out in there.”
Porsche holds his gaze and clears his throat. “What about that early meeting?”
“I’ll go late.” Kinn quirks an eyebrow. “What are they going to do? Start without me?”
Porsche throws his head back and laughs, and Kinn wants to devour him.
“Now who’s the brat?” Porsche says, pecking the corner of Kinn’s mouth.
Kinn frowns a little. “Come back. Kiss me properly.”
“You just love the taste of your own dick, huh,” Porsche says petulantly, but thoroughly obliges him anyway. He cradles Kinn’s face between his hands, licking easily into his mouth, taking as much as he gives.
“Mm, almost as much as you do,” Kinn says against his lips. Porsche nips at him for that, and Kinn squeezes his waist in return. He is warm and solid in Kinn’s arms, in his heart.
The storm starts to quiet.