Chapter Text
Porsche
6 Years Earlier
The air smelled differently by the sea.
Porsche leaned against the rail overlooking the bleach-white sand that separated the wooden boardwalk from the sea. The waves rolled in, lulling him even as the breeze whipped at his straight, dark-brown hair, the sun progressively turning his naturally gold-tinted skin to a nut brown.
Living in Bangkok his whole life, the smell of the city was imprinted in his DNA - the diesel-and-gasoline laden highways, aromas of fried and fresh food markets, the humidity that gathered everything together and settled it on his skin like a baptism, making him a part of the city and the city forever a part of him. Temples, parks, and endless trees absorbed some of that effusion, but the Chao Phraya River that wound through the heart of the city was soaked in all the odors of life there and kept the smells alive and pungent.
And when life was a battleground, like Porsche’s was, the city might as well have been tattooed onto the underside of his skin, where all his triumphs and tragedies co-existed in equal measure.
While he was here in Koh Samui, he breathed in as much of the sea air as he could, trying to etch these memories into his soul before he returned to his city. The internship he was currently completing as part of his degree in this beach town, had been a miracle for someone like him - 24, orphaned, poor, and still not graduated from college. That whole life-was-a-battleground thing was particularly relevant here. Porsche had been forced to take entire semesters off to work and make enough money to keep his younger brother, Chay in school, because they had no one else. His gambler uncle was not part of that calculus.
Porsche didn’t have the kind of academic record that would have made him an ideal candidate for this gig. Hell, he was doing his degree so slowly, at the rate he was going, his own brother would probably graduate before he did, even though Chay was years younger than Porsche.
But his advisor, Dr. Massala, had always had an unwavering belief in him. When it was clear Porsche could meet a two month-long commitment, she’d practically moved heaven and earth to get him this internship.
Now that this adventure was coming to a close, he had to make sure he got as much of that healing air into him as he could hold before he returned to Bangkok. In two weeks, he would start his last semester, hopefully graduate, and find a management track position in one of the many hotels and resorts of Southeast Asia.
Porsche still couldn’t believe it sometimes. But the air in his chest and the sun on his skin were proof that this was real.
His phone chimed, a reminder that his shift was starting soon. He pushed off the wooden rail, the sound of rolling waves keeping him company as he strode in the direction of the Samui Excelsior. His internship required that he cycle through most of the customer-forward positions in the hotel. This week, he had finally been assigned to the lounge, where his skills as a bartender would be put to good use. He got to show off his mad cocktail-making skills, flirt with a few customers and pick up some extra baht in tips while he was at it, which he could always use. He never said no to good money.
Porsche stopped into the employee locker room to put on his hotel-issued uniform - a white dress shirt, snug vest, tie and slacks - and raced towards the hotel’s main lounge, coming to a halt in front of the entryway. Rich people, elegantly dressed and reeking with money, milled around inside, talking, laughing, and sipping cocktails with astronomical markups. Others sat at the bar, or at tables where waitstaff plied them with tapas and hors d'oeuvres before the start of dinner. A soft jazz piano played in the background, accompanying the conversation and clinking of glasses.
It was darkening outside, the dying lights of sunset reflecting off every surface, momentarily blinding him. He gave a deep wai to the manager, Pravat, who was supervising this rotation. When the tall, stern man turned away, he high-fived Pete, his program partner and roommate who was on the same rotation as Porsche and would be working the lounge with him.
“I’m taking the bar,” Porsche announced, slipping past Pete to take up a station just under the wall of top-shelf alcohol.
“Hey!” Pete protested, his normally easy smile disappearing. “I thought we agreed that I’d start at the bar tonight.”
Porsche picked up a glass, wiping it with excessive flair with a dry dish towel. He gave Pete a wink and a smile. “I don’t think you’re remembering right.”
“And I think you’re a crappy liar. Come on, man, hosting is boring.” Pete sounded downright petulant.
The dimming sunlight outside triggered the inside lights to go on, easing them progressively into brightness. Porsche admired the glittering effect - this bar really was one of the nicest ones he’d ever seen. “Tomorrow’s a good night, too. Promise I’ll switch off. Sounds fair?”
“No,” Pete grumbled, fidgeting with his hotel jacket. “But when has that ever stopped you?”
Porsche cooed, squeezing his friend’s dimpled cheeks. “Aww, don’t be mad. When you frown, you aren’t that cute anymore.”
Pete swatted his hand away but laughed. “Behave. I don’t want to get fired before we’re even employed.”
“Bah, nobody’s firing us. We’re a steal.” This was true. While the money for the internship was better than Porsche ever made at his bartending job at home, it was still way below what someone with a degree and experience could earn.
Pete left Porsche behind the bar, where one of the older bartenders transferred the till to him. People arrived in a steady stream throughout the night - high-end tourists and business people, getting chatty and handsy as their drinks flowed. Porsche knew he had a way about him - that's what made him so successful over at his bartending job back home at Hum Bar. He was good at making people comfortable, chatting it up and scoring a few drinks for himself.
It also helped that he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, a fact he was completely aware of.
The bar was busy when he took an order for a Martini from a very attractive woman, not much older than Porsche, who didn’t take her eyes off him the entire time he prepared the drink. Porsche flashed his brightest smile, laying on the charm. If he’d been at Hum Bar, he would have had her against the wall in the alley in six minutes flat. But for this internship, he was under strict orders not to fraternize with the clientele.
She wasn’t the only one watching Porsche.
A man had slipped onto a stool not far from the cocktail station where Porsche was doing his thing. Porsche gathered his appearance from the sum total of surreptitious glances he cast in his direction as he worked his magic on the woman. The man had thick, jet-black hair styled back and away from his face except for one, solitary strand that hung over his forehead. Dark eyes gleamed heavy and brooding under the most distinctive eyebrows Porsche had ever seen. High cheekbones and sharp jaw were accentuated by the tight smoothness of his pale skin. He wore a black button-down dress shirt, unbuttoned almost to his belt, which made the whole concept of buttons useless. Underneath, he was all smooth, creamy muscles, the kind of skin that reminded Porsche of vanilla and powdered sugar. He was imposing and hot and he only had eyes for Porsche.
Porsche went to great lengths to pretend not to notice.
He flipped the cocktail shaker, catching it with a dramatic flair before giving it a long shake that made an arc through the air, like a caress. The music that played contained a rhythmic percussion that he couldn’t help but sway to. His body was strangely alight, a low hum of generalized arousal that he channeled into his work. He locked eyes with her even though his awareness of the brooding guy pulled at him the way the beat did. Flashing a grin at her, he rolled the Martini inside the shaker before speeding up until he was shaking it vigorously, climaxing to a full stop when he slammed the shaker onto the rubber mat of the cocktail station. The woman swallowed hard, a hand flying to her slender throat. Porsche wanted to high-five himself, the generous cash tip she left behind with a tremulous hand proof that he was high on his game tonight.
The brooding man with heavy eyebrows slid onto the stool in front of him the moment she walked away.
Porsche tidied the cups he’d dirtied while making the woman’s drink before he lifted his gaze to those midnight eyes, their intensity pulling a swooping heat out of his belly. He was scoring all the hot customers tonight.
“Welcome to the Excelsior Koh Samui. I’ll be your bartender this evening. What can I get you?” Porsche asked, unleashing his smile.
The man leaned on the counter, raking the most obvious, interested gaze over Porsche. It was unsubtle, tinged in awe and should have creeped Porsche out except it felt pulled out of the man, as if admiring Porsche was something he did despite himself.
“Surprise me,” came the man’s answer finally.
Porsche raised his eyebrows. “Feeling adventurous?”
Something flared in the man’s eyes, a blush of pink spreading over the tops of his cheeks. “That would depend on the adventure.”
The unexpected volley pulled a laugh out of Porsche. People didn’t usually surprise him - he found them easy to read and anticipate. But this guy already had him on his toes, even if it was just friendly flirtation and nothing more. “Any food allergies?”
He shook his head, amusement dancing at the edge of his lips. “I’m an easy date.”
Porsche shook his head. This man had obviously cracked open the pick-up lines handbook and decided to read them all to Porsche to see what would stick. “Alright, then. One surprise cocktail, coming right up.”
Pulling out a fresh shaker and jigger, Porsche proceeded to create the best Old-Fashioned he’d ever made, paying particular attention to each detail, especially when he caramelized the orange rind with a small, hand-held blow-torch, sending its acidic sweetness bursting into the air. The man followed his every move, the fire from the torch reflecting in his eyes as if he was on fire from the inside, and all of it directed entirely on Porsche.
Porsche was breathless by the time he was done, and it was not from the exertion.
“Try this,” Porsche whispered just above the sultry jazz music, setting the finished product down and sliding it towards him.
The man picked up the glass, studying the drink. A ring on his forefinger glinted at Porsche, it's engraved surface smooth and bold, and gave the man an effortless air of authority as he rested his full, sensuous lips on the rim and took a sip. Goosebumps sprang up over Porsche’s skin at the obvious pleasure the man took in the drink.
He hadn’t gotten laid since he left Bangkok and it was starting to catch up with him.
Porsche shook his head to clear the thought before stepping away to pour out a couple of glasses of red wine for one of the servers, hoping to catch his breath. The other bartenders cast resentful glances at him, maybe because he was spending so much time on this one customer while others piled up, but he could care less. They couldn’t appreciate the performative nature of what a bartender could do and it showed in their pitiful tips. They didn’t possess even a tenth of the flair Porsche had perfected during all his years working at Hum Bar.
After serving a few more customers, Porsche drifted irresistibly back into the man’s orbit. He took another sip of the drink, his eyes never leaving Porsche.
“This is good. Sharp, but with a sweet aftertaste.” He set the glass down. “Feels like you served up a metaphor for my personality.”
“Did I? Guess I’m more intuitive than I thought.” Porsche smiled. He didn't know the first thing about intuition but it felt like a clever thing to say. “What’s your name?”
The man dipped his head, which was actually freaking adorable. “Kinn.”
Porsche nodded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kinn. I’m Porsche and as you’ve probably guessed, I’m your bartender this evening.”
A vibration from Kinn’s pocket pulled his attention away. He fished the phone out, glancing at his screen before putting it away again. “I wish you were, Porsche, but I have a business dinner, otherwise I would cancel all my plans and spend the night letting you continue to surprise me.” He downed the last of the drink and set the glass on the counter before sliding off the stool. He was as tall as Porsche, though more broadly built. From the open shirt, Porsche caught a glimpse of the defined chest and one hard nipple tenting the fabric. It was a hell of a look for a business dinner. Porsche struggled to tear his eyes away.
He was surprised by the disappointment that flooded him at the idea of this man, Kinn leaving. “Another time, maybe.”
“Hope so.” He turned away. Porsche sighed, wiping the counter and preparing to help another customer when Kinn turned on his heel and strode back to where Porsche was tidying up. In one, rapid-fire sequence, Kinn said, “I’m here on business. Property development. Boring stuff, actually. I’m single, live in Bangkok and check out on Sunday.”
Porsche’s system screeched to a halt. “Are you going to throw in your blood type and credit card number with that information?”
“O+. Credit card is tied to my business account which you could look up, I guess.” Kinn tilted his head in appreciation. “Sorry. I know I’m being incredibly forward.” He put a hand on his chin, rubbing it. “I don’t have a lot of time and I hate all these getting-to-know-you questions when the only thing I want to know is if I can stop by and see you after your shift tomorrow night.”
Kinn’s odd combination of boldness and uncertainty was reeling Porsche in. “You’re just assuming I’m into guys like that?”
Kinn shrugged. “All you would have to do is say so. No one’s going to drag you away, caveman style, unless you’re into that kind of thing.”
“Well, damn, okay." This guy had him speechless and that never happened to Porsche. Something nagged at the corner of his mind, something relevant to this moment, but he couldn’t get his whirling thoughts in order to remember what it was. “I get off at midnight.”
Kinn tried and failed to bite back a grin. “I’ll see you then.” He tapped the bar counter, his excitement transparent. “Don’t work too hard.” With that, Kinn turned and moved towards the entrance of the lounge, where a small group of men in similar business casual waited outside.
Porsche watched him disappear with what he presumed were his colleagues, taking in the plump roundness of his ass in snug black slacks, the long legs that seemed to make up 80% of his body, and the wide back that made his average-sized waist look tiny. Whoever got to hang out with him was one lucky asshole, even if it was only for business.
“You okay?” Pete asked when he came upon Porsche, still staring at where Kinn had disappeared beyond the exit.
“Yeah. I…I don’t know what just happened to me.” Porsche spoke slowly, still pondering the lightning quick way this man had crashed into his night and left him panting for more. It was a new feeling for Porsche. He was usually the one taking people’s breath away, not the other way around.
“Well get your head back in the game. You have customers.” Pete clapped Porsche on the shoulder before retreating to the host station. Porsche usually didn’t spare too much attention on the people he flirted with. They were out of his head the moment they took their drinks and left. But this Kinn guy. He just…Porsche wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he wasn’t leaving Porsche’s thoughts anytime soon.
***
The next night, Porsche kept his promise to Pete, taking over hosting duties while Pete handled the bar. Pete was right, hosting was boring as hell. Occasionally, he cast a forlorn look at the bar where it seemed everyone was hovering around Pete and having a good time. He was okay at making cocktails, but his smile more than made up for his bartending skills. He had that kind of face that made people want to sit down and confess their secrets to him. He was engaging in an entirely different way from Porsche. They always said, if they were to ever open a bar together, they’d have the entire spectrum of human experiences covered. Porsche would bring the sexy while every one of Pete’s expressions promised cuddles and understanding.
But Porsche’s restlessness was not just the result of being relegated to host duties. He’d done a lot more boring things in this job. No, he was restless because he was hoping that hot guy, Kinn, hadn’t changed his mind to stop by, even if he was chained to this stupid host station until the lounge closed.
As the evening progressed, there was no sign of Kinn. Porsche’s restlessness turned into disappointment, then resignation. The broody, hot guy probably found someone to keep him company until he checked out and went back to his life. That’s how it was with these flings - they were as much a matter of opportunity as anything else. Whatever, Porsche would be home soon and back to his back-alley hookups. At Hum Bar, he never lacked for company. He just had to get through the next two weeks.
Porsche tidied his work area and prepared the front end for closing when he got a whiff of a delicious aroma that made his chest tighten with how good it smelled. He looked up from the podium and thought he was having a vision. It was Kinn, wearing an immaculate, similarly unbuttoned dress shirt, this time maroon in color, with boot cut blue jeans that made him look as tight and delicious as he had yesterday.
Porsche caught himself before he stared at Kinn, mouth agape. He cleared his throat and gave a deep wai. “Khun Kinn. Good to see you again.”
“You remember my name?”
“You were kind of unforgettable.”
Kinn dipped his head, buried one hand in his jeans pocket, then pulled it out before letting both arms drop to hang at his sides. If Porsche didn’t know better, he would say Kinn was nervous.
“Not at the bar tonight?” Kinn asked.
“No, sir,” Porsche said, shutting the leather-bound guest book and placing it under the stand, working very hard to keep his hand steady, to not vibrate out of his skin. “I got hosting duty. My friend is there, though. He makes an excellent Continental.” Porsche didn’t know why he was feeling so bratty - maybe because he’d given up hope of seeing Kinn and was still under the influence of his disappointment.
“With all due respect to your friend, I came to have a drink made by you, not by him.”
Porsche experienced a sudden flush of heat at Kinn’s words. It should have annoyed him - why should Kinn care if he or Pete made his drink? But Porsche wasn’t dumb. He understood what he meant and Porsche wanted the same thing. “Listen, I’m off the clock. I can pop over and make you one before the bar closes.”
Kinn brightened at that. “You won’t get in trouble with your bosses, will you?”
If Porsche used the excuse of a customer insisting on his services, there would be no trouble. He’d probably be praised for putting in the extra effort to make a valued guest happy. “Not at all.” Porsche cocked his head in the direction of the bar. “Follow me.”
They crossed the empty restaurant, at the end of which was the horse-shoe shaped bar with the wall of liquor and glass behind it. Pete, who had just finished wiping down the counter, looked in askance at Porsche. Porsche slipped behind the bar and pulled Pete to the side.
“Hey, why don’t you go home early. I’ll finish closing up here.”
Pete glanced past Porsche’s shoulder to where Kinn sat, waiting patiently for Porsche.
“Be careful. You don’t want to get in trouble for ‘inappropriate relations’ with the guests.” Pete made sure to air quote “inappropriate relations,” as if Porsche didn’t understand the gravity of the consequences.
“I’m just making the guy a drink. And anyway,” Porsche leaned into Pete’s ear, “Have you seen him? I would spoon feed his drink to him if he asked.”
Pete barely stopped himself from barking out a laugh. “Bro, you are so out of pocket. Ok, just don’t forget to put everything away when you’re done. Oh, and charge him. You can’t afford the bill for drinking him under the table. Not at these prices.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Porsche said. “I got this.”
Pete narrowed his eyes. “Should I even ask if you’re coming home?”
The idea of that hadn’t quite entered Porsche’s mind until he brought it up. Now, he wasn’t really sure. “I’ll text and let you know.”
Pete nodded, giving him a fist bump before leaving the bar. Porsche turned back to where Kinn was looking at his phone. When Porsche appeared, he put it away, fixing his entire attention on him.
“So, another surprise?” Porsche asked.
“I’m in your hands.”
Porsche gave him another sly smile as he whipped up a Bourbon Sidecar, suspecting that Kinn might like the interplay between sweet and sour. Kinn watched him as he worked, studying Porsche’s every movement, which made him self-conscious in a way other customers watching him barely did. His body was a pounding, throbbing thing, drowning him in its reactions - the rush of blood and the loud thrumming of his beating heart.
And Kinn, so quiet, as if he was afraid to interrupt him, tilted his head to catch the way Porsche measured out the bourbon, Cointreau, and lemon, eyes sliding over his hands as the ice tumbled into the shaker. There was no music, no conversation, no distraction when Porsche raised the shaker to catch Kinn’s expression, arresting momentarily his movement. It was intense, famished, like Porsche was what he needed to feel full.
This time, when he held Kinn’s gaze, it wasn’t with the same playfulness as he’d done with the woman the day before. Something was being exchanged, something raw, and hungry passed between them. He had barely said ten words to this man but something in Porsche recognized something in Kinn. Ice clattered inside the shaker, cold and insistent in Porsche’s hands as he began to shake but he was burning from the inside under Kinn’s stare. Captured and unable to break away.
Finally, finally , Porsche’s wits sharpened enough for him to stop shaking and pour out the cocktail - enough for two. He carefully lined the rims with honey and lemon before sliding one glass over to Kinn.
Kinn smiled, studying the drink. “Whiskey Sour?”
“Bourbon Sidecar. Since you liked the Old Fashioned yesterday, I thought you might appreciate this one.”
Kinn took a sip, his eyebrows flying up with surprise. “I’m usually a whiskey drinker, but this is excellent. How did you get so good at this? Did you go to school for it?” Kinn asked.
Porsche shrugged, though he really enjoyed the praise. “I’m studying hospitality at the university but I picked up bartending while working at my friend’s bar.”
Kinn nearly choked on his drink. “You’re still in school?”
Porsche stiffened. “Why the surprise? Because I’m old?” To be fair, Porsche was the oldest student in his class but his imperfect academic record was more than made up for by his persistence, or at least, that’s what Dr. Massala always said to him.
“Yes,” Kinn said, setting down the drink. “I don’t make a habit of picking up school-aged boys.”
“Twenty-four is not school-age,” Porsche huffed out.
“Agreed, and I’ve never been more relieved.” Kinn’s face crinkled in humor and Porsche just caught sight of two whisker dimples appearing on the tops of his cheeks. Porsche focused on taking a sip of his drink to keep from reaching out and thumbing each one.
“How old are you?” Porsche asked to help keep his thoughts on track.
“Just turned thirty-four.” Kinn’s eyes slid away, as if he was embarrassed to confess that fact.
Porsche rested his weight on his elbow, watching Kinn. “Not like that makes you old. My neighbor is eighty-seven. Now that’s old.”
Kinn chuckled at this, though not bright enough to make those dimples appear again. “Fair point. But god, you’re a baby compared to me.”
“Really?” Porsche pulled a face. “You know, ten years isn’t a big gap. Plus, I bet you I’ve lived enough to put my brain age way past yours.”
“Brain age?” Kinn laughed, and this time the dimples appeared. Damn, the man was radiant when he laughed, full, white teeth on display, making him look so much younger than the age he was fretting over. “What does that mean?”
Porsche leaned forward. “Maturity. Wisdom. I’ve been through some shit. If it took me this long to get my degree, I promise, it wasn’t because I was out having a good time.”
“I’m sorry I made assumptions.” Kinn looked genuinely contrite.
Porsche wiped the counter absently. “It’s whatever. Life happens. I could have done without some of it, but mostly, this is who I am. I’m not ashamed of myself. I’m not ashamed of how I got here.” He leaned in, feeling that natural playfulness well up on him. He couldn’t help himself. “I’m not ashamed of the things I like.”
Kinn let out a slow exhale, as if he’d been listening with bated breath. “You think you might like me?”
His words punched the air out of Porsche’s lungs. Kinn was this wild mixture of shyness, intelligence and boldness that kept Porsche off balance in the best way. There were layers to this man and suddenly, he wanted to excavate and get to know each one.
“Yeah, old man,” he teased, pulling another dimpled smile from Kinn. “I think I might like you.”
Kinn threw back the rest of his drink. “Let’s get out of here.”
Porsche had never cleaned a bar so quickly in his life.
**
They bought ice cream at a local stand that was still bustling with customers, Porsche piling his coconut ice cream with pieces of mangos while Kinn carried his ginger ice cream sandwich in a paper plate, bunches of paper towels tucked deep in his pockets. They walked along the boardwalk, darkly illuminated by golden lamplight while a half-moon cast its own light down on their path.
They talked, the easy things tumbling out of them like water racing downhill. Porsche’s brother versus Kinn’s, Kinn's father's passing and the massive corporation Kinn had been trained to run. Where they were born and the neighborhoods they lived in back home. Porsche’s area of studies and Kinn’s company.
Kinn raised his hand to show Porsche his ring. "I inherited it when my father passed." Clouds crossed his bottomless, dark eyes. "I've never owned anything that weighs so much."
Porsche took the hand with the silver ring, his thumb sliding over the cool metal, before threading his fingers through Kinn's and holding it as they walked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which it was. Porsche's hand felt like it was made to hold Kinn's.
When they made it to the end of the boardwalk, at the edge of a path that would take them deep into the cliffs, where no one ventured at night, in that inky darkness came the harder truths. Kinn’s older brother’s breakdown, Porsche’s endless struggles with poverty and scarcity. All the things that Porsche never shared and he suspected Kinn kept his secrets under tight wraps as well. Family history and personal stories that were more like a damn breaking open.
And it felt so good. Felt good to not have to worry about putting someone at ease, to be able to just say a thing, honestly and truly, and know that the person you spoke with meant it to. Porsche had just met Kinn but it felt like they'd been talking forever. Maybe it was because he was a stranger that this all felt so easy, but Porsche suspected it was because it was this man speaking to me, on this very night. None of this would have been the same if they changed even one thing about this moment. It made it all that much more special.
"I was in the car with them, but I don't remember anything. It took months for me to recover. Thank God my brother was with our nanny. He would have never made it."
Kinn visibly shivered. "I can't even imagine it. At least you were spared the memory of their last moments."
Porsche shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm greedy. I want every one of them. I'm never going to make new ones with them.
“Some things are better forgotten.” Kinn looked out at the ocean, the cliffside dotted with the twinkling lights from resorts and homes, pinned fireflies against the endless blackness of the ocean at night. “I watched my mother slowly waste away from cancer. I would rather have been spared. I don’t like that my memories of her when she was young and healthy have been superimposed by the ones when she was in hospital.”
Porsche stopped, studying Kinn’s face in the dim lights of the boardwalk. “It must have been really hard.”
Kinn stepped close to him. “Hard for you, too, I think.”
Nodding slowly, Porsche’s gaze became lost in tracing the powerful bones of Kinn’s face, the bold features and the unbearably soft skin that held it all together. God, he was a vision and grew more irresistible by the minute. Even in the dim light, he was striking, even more so as the shadows shifted around him, making him appear more brooding.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Kinn said, raising a hand to Porsche’s face. “Can I?”
Porsche nodded, for once his sassy tongue unable to form words. Kinn’s fingers slid into his hair, threading their way to the nape of Porsche’s neck, where the hair was soft and the skin tender.
The sound of the crashing surf raced past Porsche’s ears, the wind cool, and humid, heavy with salt and metal that clung to their skin. Kinn’s eyes were cast in shadow but they were fixed on him as he pulled him close. Eyes fluttering close, Porsche became a slave to the pressure of Kinn’s fingers on his neck, the heat of his breath on his skin. The smell of his cologne that had so arrested him, snaked towards him in the breeze, wrapping itself around him.
And then there were Kinn’s lips, unbearably soft, pressed against his. Porsche had sex regularly but this tenderness was new to him and until this moment, something he didn’t realize he needed. He pressed back, lips falling open in a silent request for more and Kinn gave it to him, sweeping in with his tongue to taste the darkest, warmest places in his mouth. Porsche answered by kissing him back, stroking Kinn’s tongue soft as silk, his gasp a thrill that made him bolder, until kissing turned to something more. When they pulled apart, Porsche pressed their foreheads together. He held the taste of Kinn in his mouth and he wanted to keep that flavor for as long as he could.
“Wow,” Porsche murmured.
Kinn grinned, scattering the shadows with his bright smile. “Not bad for an old man.”
“Stop,” Porsche said around a chuckle. “You're amazing.”
Kinn sighed, and it sounded full of contentment. “Can I take you on a proper date tomorrow?”
Porsche pulled back, wishing with all his being that he could do exactly that. “Please don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say, because I really really want to go out with you.” Porsche waved his hands for emphasis. “But if I get caught going out with you, I could lose my job.”
“Because I’m a guest.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Kinn took Porsche’s face in his hands and gave him another kiss, leaving him dizzy with want when he pulled away. “I’ll take care of it. When is your shift over?”
Porsche grinned with mischief. “Tomorrow is my early day.” He stepped closer, resting his hands on Kinn’s waist. “And after tomorrow, I have the day off.”
Kinn gripped Porsche’s waist in turn, which made Porsche weak in the knees. “I’ll definitely take care of the guest situation.” He took away his hands, which Porsche missed immediately, and pulled out his phone, unlocking the screen before handing it to him. The latest model of iPhone, nothing like the beat up one Porsche was barely managing to keep alive. “Give me your phone number. I’ll let you know where and when to meet.”
Porsche punched in his phone number, texting himself so he would have Kinn’s number as well before handing it back. When Kinn put it in his pocket, he took Porsche’s hand and held it. “We have a little bit of a walk before we get back.”
“Yeah,” Porsche answered, lifting his head when Kinn pulled him in for another kiss, the wind whipping strands of hair in each other’s eyes. He loved this moment, and could kiss Kinn for days without interruption. Porsche wanted Kinn; his body was having trouble hiding the signs of arousal. But he craved this also, craved Kinn’s hand in his as he walked, his voice in his ears as he spoke, the warmth of his body as he kept him company. He’d always had his brother, his friends, the people who made up the patchwork of what he called family . But he’d never had any real intimacy with someone he desired. There was no such thing as intimacy in the alley behind Hum Bar. This was so new, it left him reeling. Now that he got a taste of it, he decided he wanted more.
Porsche tugged Kinn by the hand, smiling when he obliged him and let himself be pulled along. “Let’s get back before the sun comes up.”