Chapter Text
Porsche practically growled as her alarm screamed beside her. She was a week into her new job at Theerapanyakul Enterprises, and to say she hated it was a severe understatement.
Her supervisor was a bitch, her supervisor's supervisor was a bitch, her supervisor's supervisor's supervisor was... okay actually. Mainly because Porsche never had to spend time with her. She wasn't completely sure of her name either, Arm or something?
Porsche's supervisor, Big, seemed to find pleasure in making her life a living hell. The amount of paperwork was double what anyone else got. Even Pete, perhaps Porsche's only friend, who had Ken as her supervisor, had less paperwork to get through than her, and most people regarded Ken as one of the worst people in the office.
She'd only taken the job when money was so scarce that she could barely afford to feed Chay, and certainly not herself.
Khun Korn had seemed pleasant enough during the interview, saying that although this field was male-dominated, Theerapanyakul Enterprises were the most female-populated company, and beat the competition by millions each year. Not that Porsche knew what this field was exactly. Something about it not being her concern. All she had to do was make sure no paperwork went missing, and that it was all ordered correctly, the odd coffee run and a few spreadsheets.
Porsche didn't really care where she was working, as long as the pay was good, and Theerapanyakul Enterprises were more than generous with paying their workers, yet all the Theerapanyakuls themselves still had obscene amounts of wealth. She didn't question it, it seemed safer not to.
She sticks a brush in her hair, hoping gravity will untangle it.
It doesn't.
Now Porsche's hair is not only knotted in several places, but also has a brush lodged amongst it.
"Fuck," she grimaces, teasing the bristles out.
She successfully removes it, with only minimal hair being yanked out of her skull alongside it. This time, she takes her time to sort her hair out, and in about forty-five minutes, she's dressed and ready.
Chay left for school a while ago, meaning the house is quiet. Porsche locks up, gets on her bike, and drives to work.
She wanders into the building Theerapanyakul Enterprises owns, waving to Erika, the security guard, on her way in. The elevator to the fifth floor where Porsche spends most of her working day is quiet. When she gets out, Pete grins at her – the special, 'my grandma sent me some food' grin. Perfect. Today, as far as work days for Porsche go, is going to be a good day.
"Kittisawasd, did you finish that spreadsheet yet?"
Never mind.
Big looms over Porsche's cubicle, tapping her pen against the side, instantly irritating her.
"The one about profit margins?"
"No, the one about the monthly budget. Hurry up and get it finished, Khun Kinn's getting on my back about it."
Khun Kinn.
Korn Theerapanyakul's second daughter, but heir to the Enterprise. Porsche never sees much of her, but in their limited interactions, Porsche can tell precisely two things:
Kinn is a spoilt bitch.
Kinn is very pretty, naturally so, and that just isn't fair.
At first, Porsche was certain that Kinn's tits were implants, but no, they were naturally that big and perfect.
Porsche hated her.
And other people hated Porsche because of her tiny waist, mainly, but Porsche had a lot going for her, which made her an instant target for workplace gossip. She'd heard various people say something about her only getting the job because she was attractive.
At one point, there were definitely hints of a rumour that Porsche was a stripper before taking this job.
Porsche had done a lot of things in her life, had a lot of shitty jobs, but a stripper wasn't one of them.
Well, if this job didn't turn out so well, people clearly thought she was pretty enough to be one, so Porsche had at least gained a backup plan.
She looked up to see Big still glaring at her.
"Monthly budget, got it."
"Actually before you do that, can you go to the printer? There's about forty pages for you to grab. Just put them on my desk."
Porsche nods and stands. For some stupid reason, the printer is down the hallway instead of in the main office, but there is a little coffee stand, so she can always grab something on her way back.
The printer takes for-fucking-ever. Of course it does. It's printer and printers are arseholes. Porsche taps her fingers on the top, wishing she could have a cigarette. She sighs, clicking her tongue in frustration.
"Hey."
The scream Porsche almost lets out would be seemingly unholy, if she screamed. But she didn't scream. Definitely.
It was just a surprised squeak.
"Didn't mean to scare you," Kinn smiles at her.
"I wasn't scared," Porsche is like a petulant toddler sometimes, this was one of those times.
'Shit,' she realises, 'Fucking Kinn!'
"I-I mean, uh, it's okay Khun Kinn. I'm fine."
"So that noise was just...?"
"Hiccups."
Porsche tries to mimic the sound to prove a point. It doesn't work. Kinn raises an eyebrow.
"Sorry, Khun Kinn."
"Just Kinn is fine. I've always found ma'am to be too formal."
"Sorry, Khu- Kinn."
There is no good reason as to why Porsche enjoys saying Kinn's name so much. She attempts to remind herself that she's supposed to hate Kinn. The second failure at work today.
"You're Porsche, correct?"
"Yes Kh- Kinn."
"Aren't you supposed to be working?"
Yep, there it is, Porsche's distaste for the woman in front of her is back.
Who wears a shirt with that many buttons open at work?
Showing off her perfect tits. How rude.
"I'm just getting some printing for Khun Big."
"Would that include the monthly budget spreadsheet?" Kinn eyes her up and down.
Porsche rubs the back of her neck, "Uh, no, not yet, Khun Kinn, we're still working on it."
"Right," Kinn says slowly, slightly shaking her head, "I need it done by the end of the day. Work overtime if you must."
If this wasn't work, and Kinn was responsible for paying her, Porsche would be more than tempted to punch her.
"Yes Khun Kinn," she bows, turning back to the printer, which has only printed three of the forty pages.
She hears Kinn's heels clack as she starts to leave.
"Oh, Porsche?"
Porsche's back is turned – thank fuck. The expression of pure murder is written on her face. She sighs, a harshness to it, before turning around to face Kinn.
"What?" she positively spits.
"You're pretty," Kinn smiles back.
The anger morphs into surprise and confusion, "W-what?"
She's caught off-guard to say the least.
"You're pretty."
Oh.
"What?" Porsche asks dumbly.
"You. Are. Pretty," Kinn says slower.
Porsche shakes her head, "No, no, I heard what you said, I just don't know why."
"Because it's true."
Porsche stares back. There's no way someone like Kinn would say something like that without wanting something.
"What do you want?" she tries desperately to annoy the swirling feeling in her stomach the more she thinks about Kinn calling her pretty.
"Just telling you."
Kinn flashes Porsche her trademark smile and walks off, ponytail swaying with each step.
Porsche stands still, completely fucking baffled by the whole thing.
She snaps back into the realisation of the printing she needs to collect and put on Big's desk. She grabs it, hurries off, and puts the whole Kinn-thing to the back of the mind.
Except it doesn't stay there very long because Kinn keeps calling her pretty, every single day. By the fifth day, Porsche has to escape to the toilets to breathe and wipe away the wetness growing between her legs.
Sure, Kinn was attractive.
Okay, very attractive.
Fine. Kinn was one of the most beautiful women Porsche had ever seen.
But simply her voice and her smile made Porsche have a reaction.
What the actual fuck was wrong with her.
She hated Kinn. Kinn was a bitch. The biggest bitch. Not someone that should mean anything to Porsche.
After two weeks of Kinn repeatedly calling her pretty, Porsche had had enough of awkward half-jogs to the toilets, where she would wipe away any trace of a reaction to it.
There had been one or two occasions where Porsche gave in to her urges, and fingered herself in the toilets on the fourth floor – the ones no one went to for whatever reason.
And that was only when Kinn had made it impossible not to. She'd come in close, her mouth by Porsche's ear.
"Pretty," she'd whispered – three times.
Every time, Porsche's standing capabilities had been affected. It wasn't her fault that Kinn and her stupid words and her stupid face and her stupid tits had awakened something within her.
"Fuck's sake," Porsche grits her teeth, completely ready for battle.
Okay, completely was a stretch.
Porsche was already horny because of some fucking website Pete signed her up to as a joke, but it turned out to suggest things Porsche had never even thought of trying in bed.
With this month's newsletter, Porsche couldn't help but imagine her and Kinn–
This has to stop.
"Hey, Porsche? You're pretty," Kinn has the audacity to wink at her this time.
It's nearly the end of the day, and Porsche doesn't care anymore.
"Follow me," Porsche glares back.
She leads Kinn to a quiet corner on the fourth floor, by the toilets she'd fingered herself in a few days prior.
She tries not to think about that. Imagining it was Kinn's fingers and–
Stop it, Porsche. Focus.
"Why the fuck do you keep saying that?"
"What?"
"Pretty."
Kinn smirks. Bitch.
"You like it, don't you? When I call you pretty. You like the validation. You like the praise."
Porsche swallows, but it goes down the wrong tube and she started to choke.
She manages to breathe again after only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like minutes, and now Kinn's laughing.
"I could have died and you're laughing?"
"If I thought you were in any actual danger, I would've saved you. But you weren't."
"Fuck you. Arsehole."
"Pretty."
"I hate you."
A lie. Porsche hates the way her body reacts to Kinn calling her pretty, she doesn't hate Kinn herself.
"Why? Is it because I don't tell you how absolutely fucking gorgeous you are and summarise all of that in one word? I could tell you that if you wanted. You deserve to be worshipped."
There's a party starting between Porsche's legs. Trying, and failing, to shake off and ignore the feeling, she aims to go back to actually confronting Kinn.
"No, no that's not the point I'm making. You know what I'm saying."
Kinn pauses, looks her up and down, smiles, leans in.
"That you want me. Because you're so desperate and needy for me, for my fingers deep inside you, fucking you until you come, screaming my name."
The way Porsche's breath grows uneven and her legs become shaky, she wonders if she came in her pants just because of a few words. She hasn't. Yet.
She needs it though. She needs to come. She needs to come on Kinn's fingers as soon as possible.
The look of need and want Porsche shoots Kinn has her hurried into the elevator.
"Where are we going?"
"My office."
Shit, shit, she's gonna fire me.
She's going to actually fire me for being horny when it's her fault!
"Hey," Kinn sounds gentle, "I'll take care of you, okay?"
She's going to kill me? Shit!
"Don't tense up, I'll be gentle if that's how you want it."
You can kill someone gently?
The elevator stops on the thirtieth floor. Porsche has only been up here once, and that was for the job interview. It's fancy. Only the highest positions have an office up here, Kinn being one of them.
Kinn's office is huge. It's more of an apartment than an office, with two doors leading away from the desk in the centre of the main room. There's two sofas and a fuck-ton of paintings.
"Bathroom," Kinn points to the left door, "Bedroom," she points to the right door.
"B-bedroom? In an office?"
"Sometimes it's hard to get home on a night, so it's only practical."
Porsche nods, warily checking for any immediate signs of danger.
"So, uh, what exactly are we doing here?"
"Didn't you want to be fucked?"
Oh.
"Will I get fired if I say yes?"
Kinn looks confused beyond belief, "No, of course not. I think I want this as much as you, and if it's good, granting you still want to, we can make it a regular arrangement."
"Only if you make it good," Porsche smirks, her mind regaining actual capable thoughts, instead of horniness, leading to stupidity, having total control over it.
It doesn't take long for Kinn to start unbuttoning Porsche's blouse, checking every other button that she's still okay, still wants it.
She does.
Porsche is desperate.
Kinn's taking so long to get her undressed that she starts to do it herself. Porsche unzips her skirt, letting it drop to the floor, all the while telling Kinn to get on with it.
She tugs Kinn's face up to hers, their faces collide with absolutely no grace, but neither of them care. At this point, both are too consumed by overbearing desire for one another.
Porsche's hands start to work on Kinn's shirt, whilst her tongue licks around Kinn's mouth. She lets out a tiny noise when Kinn's fingers brush over her bra and over her nipples.
"Take it off," Porsche groans, slightly leaning her head back for room to speak.
Kinn takes it as an opportunity to kiss and lick her neck, whilst her hands undo Porsche's bra. Her fingers trace across her tits, squeezing gently. Kinn slides her tongue down Porsche's neck to her tits, lightly sucking on the right nipple, as her left hand plays with the other. Porsche clings to Kinn, aiming for more contact, but she pulls away, smiling.
"We'll get to that, I promise. For now, I need the rest of your clothes off."
"And yours," Porsche prods at Kinn's still clothed body.
"Of course darling."
Less than a minute later and both are staring hungrily at one another.
"Here or bedroom? Or bathroom, if that's what you're in to."
"Bedroom."
Kinn wraps Porsche's legs around her waist, carrying her to the bedroom. She carefully lowers her onto the bed, then crawls between her legs.
"Pretty. So, so pretty," Kinn mutters.
She's looking at the wetness around Porsche's entrance, dips a finger to the surface level and tastes it. Porsche would protest that it was disgusting if it wasn't the hottest thing she'd ever seen.
Kinn shifts to Porsche's side, and trails her fingers over Porsche's clit, eliciting a small moan.
"Kinn, please," she tries to grab Kinn's hand, but it's pulled away from her.
"You look so, so pretty, Porsche."
The fingers are back, circling her clit, pressing down every few seconds.
"More."
Kinn gently lowers her left arm to Porsche's left tit, leaving the right brushing over her entrance.
"Oh fuck–"
Porsche bucks her hips, trying to slip Kinn's fingers inside her. Kinn moves her hand up to Porsche's right tit. She plays with both, circling her nipples, covering her chest in gentle kisses and licks.
When Kinn's tongue swirls over Porsche's right nipple she moans louder than she's ever heard herself. Kinn repeats the action on the left, creating the same response.
She's more sensitive than she's ever been. Each touch sends a spark of electricity through her whole body.
"Oh my god, Kinn. I need you, I need you inside."
A mantra of "Please, God, Kinn," chimes from Porsche's mouth. Occasionally it's decorated with "Inside, now," and Porsche failing to drag Kinn's hands lower.
"Are you sure you want this?" Kinn pauses all movements.
"Yes, Kinn, I need you."
"Okay, Porsche."
She drags her tongue up Porsche's slit and all Porsche can do is seek more pressure with her hips. As Kinn pulls away and Porsche begins to get frustrated, there's a finger slowly slipping inside.
Porsche throws her head back, opening her legs even more. Kinn looks pleased, pushing deeper and deeper in. Her thumb plays with Porsche's clit and her left hand is still carefully rubbing her tits.
"More," Porsche moans out when Kinn kisses her.
Kinn's happy to obey and pulls out the first finger, but then re-enters with two. Immediately, she pushes in, the third knuckle of both digits the only one outside.
It's so deep, but it feels so good. More so when Kinn crooks her fingers and hits that spot inside her. Porsche almost screams with pleasure.
"Found it," Kinn presses a kiss to her forehead.
Porsche holds back from coming. She doesn't want to come so soon. Still, she instinctively raises her knees so Kinn has more access. Just as she begins to relax slightly because Kinn eases out of her, three fingers slam back in, just missing Porsche's spot.
She feels so full, so good, trying in earnest to hold herself back, waiting until either Kinn tells her to come, or if she can't stop it anymore.
She'd like to come when Kinn tells her to. Make her happy, be told she's so good for waiting...
Even imagined praise sends Porsche's hands reaching down towards Kinn's arm to make her fuck her faster. Kinn freezes.
"Be patient, Porsche."
Porsche's breath is heavy, sweat coats her naked body, shining in the dimmed lights.
"One more finger. Please."
Kinn shifts to straddling her, three fingers still inside. She leans down and kisses her. Porsche kisses back, her eyes closing, legs wrapping around Kinn's waist. She rocks back and forth for the much needed movement on her clit and inside her. Kinn sits back, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Okay, Porsche."
Four fingers enter her at once. Kinn moves her left hand down from Porsche's tits to rub her clit.
It's so much.
It's all at once.
It's the best sex she's ever had.
"When you're ready, I want you to come for me."
Kinn hastens the pace, repeatedly and constantly making contact with Porsche's spot, and the fingers on her clit keep the same timing.
Her breath becomes shallower and faster, her hips thrust in time with everything else happening in and around her pussy.
Before her brain catches up, Porsche is coming. Head thrown back into the pillow, back arched above the mattress, legs shaking, eyes glassed over.
It's the most beautiful sight Kinn has ever had the pleasure to witness.
So much so, that once Porsche starts showing the signs of being over-sensitive, she only has to look at Porsche's flushed body and face with minimal touching of her own clit, to come herself.
When she can focus again, Kinn lays down next to Porsche. Both of their chests are heaving, small smiles of content on their faces. Kinn reaches to find Porsche's hand. She rubs small circles on the bottom of Porsche's palm.
"You did so well Porsche."
Porsche hums in reply, a light blush appearing on her cheeks.
"Stay there, and I'll be back to clean up, okay?"
Porsche nods, idly waving a hand about. Kinn kisses her forehead before heading to the bathroom to quickly clean herself – she'll shower later.
Porsche had never come so hard before. She lays with her legs still spread, hair tousled and knotted over her face.
Even as Kinn's gentle hands help her to the bathroom, she isn't completely sure if she's come down from the high yet.
She wants to come like that again.
When Kinn turns to give her privacy, Porsche clamours for her to stay because her legs are still too shaky. The smile Kinn gives her is so natural, so beautiful, one she's never seen at work.
She wants to see Kinn smile like that again.
Kinn carefully untangles Porsche's hair, washing it with the most expensive shampoo and conditioner Porsche has ever seen. Her body is tenderly bathed and lightly scrubbed. Kinn is cautious to avoid anywhere that could send Porsche into complete over-sensitivity, wiping between her legs with the most gentle touch.
Porsche feels more human after that. The bedsheets have been changed, but Kinn definitely didn't do it.
Kinn catches the confused look on Porsche's face, "We have maids."
"Oh."
Of course the Theerapanyakuls have maids. They're fucking loaded.
But then...
Did they all know what they were doing in here? Did they hear–
"They're paid not to talk. And clean of course."
It's as if Kinn can read her mind. Maybe it's a rich person thing.
Porsche yawns, and with her hair still wet, she's helped into bed by Kinn, who climbs in on the other side. They both fall asleep within minutes.
At some point in the night, Kinn's arm creeps over to Porsche and wraps loosely around her waist, just as Kinn's legs intertwine with hers.
For both of them, it's the most peaceful sleep they've had in a very long time.