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It isn’t Chay’s first time doing this, but it's close to it.
Chay likes the sofa best—it’s almost as comfortable as his bed, but without the wall of Wik photos staring at him with distant, judging, unattainable eyes.
Especially now that he knows Wik.
Chay wonders if he should take the pictures down in his room. It’s weird, now that they’re friends. Now that Wik is Kim , sweet and caring and generous and kind and real .
Touching himself in the same room as those photos, seeing Kim staring back at him—it feels wrong, like a betrayal of their friendship.
Chay doesn’t want to do that to him.
He lays a towel out on the sofa instead. He learned the first time he tried this that it can get a little bit messy sometimes, and it’s easier to throw a towel in the wash than his bedsheets or the sofa covers.
It feels dangerous, laying down with his legs just a little bent, palming himself through his comfy oversized house shorts.
This has always been a communal space for Chay. It’s thrilling, feeling like anyone could walk in and see him, even though Chay knows he’s all alone these days.
And if he still thinks about Kim—just a little bit—maybe that can’t be helped.
~*~
Kim has a plan.
Or, he did have a plan.
Now, instead of following the plan, he’s standing at the gate of Porchay’s house, phone in hand, utterly frozen.
Past the gate, across the yard, and through the sliding glass doors, Porchay lies on a sofa. His feet are angled away from Kim, but Kim can still clearly see the way Chay is palming himself, hips curling up into the motion.
And, even more importantly, Kim can see where Porchay’s other arm vanishes beneath him, disappearing up the loose, oversized leg of his shorts.
Kim can’t help but stare—how could he not? Porchay is gorgeous, even in his slouchy clothes. He arches his back, the arm that vanishes behind him moving in a way that has Kim wondering whether he’s just toying with his hole a little bit, or if he has several fingers buried deep inside of himself.
Fuck.
Kim’s own cock gradually rises with interest at the sight of Porchay’s writhing.
He leans back against his car and takes a deep, steadying breath, glancing around. Thankfully, the car seems to block any view that a rare passerby might have, though this particular soi doesn’t seem very populated anyway.
What is Porchay thinking, touching himself in full view of the window like this? What if someone sees him?
Someone other than Kim?
The thought draws a dark, greedy possessiveness up from Kim’s groin. He crosses his arms, slouching low.
He’s supposed to be here on a mission. He’s not supposed to be developing… feelings . Of any kind.
He should make the phone call and interrupt this before it goes any further.
But curiosity draws his gaze upward again.
He can’t resist it, drawn to Porchay’s pleasure like a moth to a flame.
Beyond those distant glass doors, Porchay’s body jolts, the hand behind his leg moving in quick, jerky motions. He tugs down the waistband of his shorts, the head of his cock peeking out beneath it.
Shit.
Kim’s crossed arms tighten. He’s as hard as Porchay is now. He closes his eyes for a moment, willing himself to have some self-control.
Porchay isn’t his . He’s just a means to an end.
Kim shouldn’t be watching this.
When Kim opens his eyes again, Porchay’s pretty little cock is free from his waistband, disappearing in the tight, rapid strokes of his fist. He’s raised his leg to give himself better access to his entrance, hips pushing back against the hand that snakes up the loose, flowy pant leg.
He’s definitely fucking himself.
Kim wonders how many fingers Porchay has stuffed up inside that little hole of his. Maybe it only takes one to get him this desperate, squirming and jerking as he plays with himself.
Maybe he’s all stretched open from three, perfectly prepared for something bigger and firmer to push inside.
Kim unclenches his arms and drops a hand to his crotch, palming himself through his jeans, hissing at how hard and sensitive he is through the denim.
Porchay would look so perfect stretched around him, whimpering and tensing from how big he is, how unforgivingly he would fuck him open.
Fuck. He has to stop.
This is ridiculous.
Kim is an asshole enough already for befriending Porchay under the pretenses he has. He doesn’t need to add this kind of betrayal on top of it all. Things were never supposed to get this far.
Kim yanks his hand away from his groin, crossing his arms again. He stands up and paces back and forth.
Inside, on the sofa, Porchay slows. He hasn’t finished yet—not as far as Kim can tell, at least—and Kim can’t help but watch, enraptured, as Porchay pushes himself down against where his hand disappears beneath him, fucking himself agonizingly slowly. The hand on his cock has stopped moving, instead sitting still so that every roll of Porchay’s hips rubs it ever-so-gently against his palm.
Kim’s mouth waters.
So Chay likes it slow when he’s close.
His little angel is already so good at torturing himself.
After only a few minutes of that slow, tantalizing fucking, Porchay gives his pretty little cock a few quick, needy strokes, and there’s a flash of white spilling onto his stomach.
Kim can see Porchay’s knees shake from all the way across the yard. Porchay’s head falls back against the sofa, chest heaving.
And fuck , in this moment, Kim wants nothing more than feel those legs shaking like that as they’re wrapped around his hips.
He watches, panting a little himself, as Porchay shakily lifts his hips up and tugs a towel free from beneath him. Porchay wipes down his hands, then sops the come from his stomach, tugging his shirt back down where it rode up.
He ends up dropping his head back to the sofa again, clearly exhausted, with the towel strewn across his knees. After a few minutes he grabs his phone from the coffee table, checks it, and then sets it face down on his chest.
Several more minutes pass.
Then several more.
Porchay remains unmoving, and eventually, Kim realizes he must have drifted off to sleep.
Kim doesn’t blame him.
He wants a nap himself after watching that, and unlike Porchay, he’s still hard as a rock. His fingertips twitch, desperate to wrap around his own cock.
He has to handle this—he can’t walk into Porchay’s house with a massive erection ready to burst through his jeans.
He considers hopping back into his car for a few minutes, stroking one out just to get it out of his system. Porchay’s unseen hand flutters back to his mind, moving beneath him, hidden fingers pushing inside of himself. Kim wonders how he feels on the inside.
No , Kim inwardly scolds. Absolutely not. We’re not doing this.
He leans back against the car, closing his eyes again. He takes a deep, steadying breath.
Kim mentally reviews the setlist for his next event. He runs through the lyrics of his latest unreleased song in his head, in both English and Thai. He forgets half of the Thai lyrics and has to search through the notes in his phone to remind himself how it goes.
By the time he’s finished with that, he finally has his cock under control.
Time to get this over with. Remember, you’re just the friendly neighborhood guitar tutor. Get the information, and get out.
Kim rubs his temples as he finds Chay’s number, his cock already threatening to make an appearance again just from a quick glance up at Porchay’s sleeping form.
Today is going to be a lot harder than he thought.
~*~
Chay startles awake to the buzzing of his phone on his chest.
He stretches, biting back a smile at the wet, slightly tacky feeling inside of his ass from the likely over-generous amount of lube he used.
It’s cotton candy flavored. He likes the way it smells, its sugary sweet scent lingering in the air around him.
His ass hurts a little, but it feels good too, constantly reminding him of his orgasm. It feels like a dirty little secret inside of him that no one else gets to know.
And he has to admit, he likes the feeling of standing up and feeling the excess drip out of him and creep slowly down his leg. He’s tempted to kneel on the sofa and push a finger back inside himself, pretending the wetness he feels there was left by the gasping pleasure of a firm, quiet, faceless older man.
Faceless, he snorts to himself. Right . No one in particular. Good one, Chay.
His phone is still buzzing on his chest.
Chay picks it up, yawning as he looks at the screen. Then he sees the name, and sits bolt upright, fumbling to answer the call before it forwards to voicemail.
“Hello, P’Kim!”
A blush rises to Chay’s cheeks as he shifts and is reminded again of the wetness between his legs, and of exactly whom he possibly, maybe just imagined putting it there.
“Hey.” Kim’s voice sounds lower than usual. Chay wonders if he also just woke up. “I know we’re supposed to have our tutoring session next week—but is there any chance we could move it to today?”
“Of course,” Chay manages, “Yeah. When should I be there?”
He swings his legs off the sofa and tosses the soiled towel to the side. Every movement he makes reminds him of his recent pleasure, and realizes with an even deeper blush that this means he’ll probably still feel it when he gets to campus.
While he’s sitting in front of Kim .
He’s never going to survive this. He hopes he at least has time to take a shower and clean the lube out of himself.
“Actually,” Kim says, “the studio is booked today. I was thinking we could meet at your place instead.”
Chay freezes.
He looks around, eyes wide. His heart twists in terror.
The house is a disaster. Chay is definitely still getting the hang of keeping up with regular chores without Porsche around to guilt him into it. And even if Chay has time to clean it before Kim arrives…
His eyes drop to the sofa beneath him.
He absolutely cannot be in this room with Kim right now. Not so soon. Not with the air still carrying the faint cotton candy scent of his lube.
“Um,” he stutters. “Uh. Actually, my house wouldn’t be good. The—um—the power’s cut.”
He stands up, pacing around the sofa, biting his lip as he feels every step echo in his hole. He grabs the towel as he moves, shoving it under his elbow.
“Really?” Kim asks, and there’s a low, challenging edge to his voice that Chay has never heard before. It makes his stomach flutter in unusual ways. “Because… I’m already outside.”
Chay freezes, turning slowly toward the gate.
And there Kim is, in all of his unbearable, effortlessly gorgeous glory.
Looking at Chay, as Chay holds a bunched up come towel in his hands.
Chay hunches over a little, grabbing the dirty towel as it threatens to fall from his grasp. A tiny little glob of cotton candy flavored lube pulses out from inside of him, smearing in the crease of his ass.
Oh… fuck.
Kim smiles and waves, looking incredibly amused by Chay’s panic, and Chay’s insides scramble up.
He doesn’t know , he reassures himself. He just got here. There’s no way he knows.
He fumbles around until he manages to free up a hand and clumsily waves back.
I am so fucked.
Chay stuffs the towel into the nearest storage basket he can find, safely out of sight, and quickly gathers up the worst of the clutter around the room.
The air still smells like cotton candy when he flounders toward the door and lets Kim in.
“I’m sorry,” Chay says immediately, welcoming Kim into the house. “It’s so messy in here, I was embarrassed…”
His eyes feel hot with how deeply he’s blushing. He tries hard to clench, hoping no little wandering drips of lube escape down his leg before he can make a hasty excuse to run to the restroom, and babbles on.
He barely hears Kim placating him, barely sees the fond little smirk that curls Kim’s lips as Kim watches him bumble and make a fool of himself.
Chay’s gaze keeps darting back to the sofa.
He can’t help it.
Intrusive thoughts crowd in around him, reminding him that he’s open already, wet already. That if Kim knew , that if Kim wanted , he could just tug his cock out and bend Chay over the sofa right now —no waiting, no foreplay.
Chay can feel his blood rushing south already.
He takes a halting breath and forces his attention back to Kim, though that’s hardly any better.
Kim smiles and holds up the guitar case he walked in with, offering it, and Chay suddenly realizes he said something, which Chay was too busy panicking to hear.
“F—for me?” Chay stutters.
He is so, so fucked.
~*~
Kim is fucked. Completely, utterly, unquestionably fucked.
The moment he walked into the room, he could smell something unexpectedly sweet and sugary in the air, and he’s sure it’s related to Porchay’s earlier activities. He peruses the bookshelf casually as Porchay fumbles and stutters adorably in front of him, and when the sweet, naive little angel is distracted by the guitar Kim gives him, Kim peeks around the photo frame that he saw Porchay hide the lube behind.
Cotton candy flavored.
The entire room smells like Porchay’s lube .
Kim’s mouth waters. He wants to know what it tastes like right off of Porchay’s skin.
Fuck.
He can’t even look at the sofa. Every time it enters his vision, all Kim can think about is bending Porchay over the back of it, pulling the loose legs of his shorts aside and sinking into him just like that, both of them clothed and desperate.
Coming in here was a mistake. He should have turned around and gone home as soon as he realized what Porchay was doing.
He needs a second to compose himself.
Kim clears his throat.
“Could I use your restroom?”
After a moment of very suspicious misdirection that Kim makes a very conscious and pointed mental note to investigate more later, he finally makes it to the privacy of the bathroom.
He doesn’t think Porchay noticed the suspiciously growing bulge in his pants.
At least, he hopes he didn’t.
Kim leans against the door and cups himself, biting his lip. He allows himself that single moment of indulgence, palming himself and arching into the livewire heat of friction against his desperately sensitive cock.
Then he closes his eyes, takes another deep breath, and maps out his plan for the day.
Do only as much tutoring as he absolutely needs to. Find a way to get Porchay out of the house for a few minutes. Investigate the locked room that Chay directed him away from on the way up here. Get out.
He manages to will away his erection for the second time, and strolls casually back down the stairs.
Porchay is somehow still none the wiser to Kim’s obvious struggles. He’s bent over at the waist, running his fingers over the surface of the guitar where it sits in its case, almost like he’s scared to pick it up.
Kim can’t help a small smile.
The kid is far too easy to impress, and far too trusting.
It’s sweet, really.
It makes Kim want to drag him home and chain him to his bed, keep him sheltered and safe forever, beholden only to Kim’s desires.
Kim is busy reminding himself not to stare at Porchay’s tempting little ass when—just before he manages to tear his attention away—something catches his eye.
It’s the subtle shine of a single clear droplet, too viscous and slow to be water, creeping down the back of Porchay’s thigh. It glimmers just below the hem of those silky little sleep shorts that Porchay is still wearing.
For a moment, the entire world stands still.
Kim buckles to temptation, his carefully-structured willpower collapsing spectacularly.
He steps forward and draws his index finger up the back of Porchay’s thigh, catching the small, sticky glob on his fingertip, pressing deliberately against Porchay’s skin so the boy knows exactly what he’s doing.
Porchay shoots upright and spins around. He emits a very high-pitched, endearing squeak that goes straight to Kim’s cock. His eyes settle on the shiny tip of Kim’s finger, wide with panic, as Kim holds it up between them and tuts.
Porchay even folds his hands neatly behind himself, resting subtly on the curve of his ass, as if that could somehow protect him now.
Precious.
Kim wants to devour him.
Porchay begins stuttering out evasions as soon as his mind catches up with his mouth.
“P’Kim! You snuck up on me! I—you—I mean—what did you—why—I can—are you…”
He trails off, eyes following the motion of Kim’s hand as Kim slides his index finger into his own mouth, sucking the lube off of it.
It tastes just as sweet and sugary as it smells. The knowledge that it was probably inside of Chay only minutes before has the arousal that Kim has been fighting off resurging with a vengeance.
Kim pulls his finger from his mouth with a sharp pop.
He’s done playing games.
Fuck this stupid investigation. This kid is far too trusting and naive to know anything anyway.
“Oh angel,” Kim growls, low and predatory, gleeful in the face of Porchay’s panicked pallor. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”
~*~
Chay’s entire body is torn between the icy horror of humiliation and the molten thrill of being found out.
His mind bounces wildly back and forth between them, leaving him frozen to the spot where he stands, staring blankly at Kim in wide-eyed terror, still unbearably aware of the pleasant ache inside of him.
Did Kim just call him angel ?
He stutters out a few unintelligible syllables, his eyes burning and his face beet red, before he manages to form anything remotely comprehensible.
"I—we—you surprised me. I didn't know you were coming over. I thought—"
Kim silences him by pressing his spit-slick index finger over Chay’s lips.
Chay stares at him, rooted in place.
The way Kim looks back at him is hungry . Domineering. Smug , almost, like the cat who ate the canary.
Like he wants him .
Heat pools in Chay’s stomach.
He waits, frozen from self-conscious terror.
He wants to lick Kim’s finger. He wants to get it even wetter, until it’s dripping with Chay’s spit, and then see what Kim does with it.
He manages to control himself, but only barely, and he can feel the rising interest of arousal gathering in his cock.
He’s going to embarrass himself even more.
And then Kim’s eyes drop to his lips.
Chay sees the moment Kim makes his decision, a devilish smile curling across Kim’s soft, beautiful mouth.
Kim drags his index finger downward until the tip reaches Chay’s parted lips.
And then he pushes it inside.
Chay’s heart leaps to his throat. He seals his lips around Kim’s finger, sucking it down as far as it can go, licking the last stray remnants of sugary cotton candy flavor from Kim’s skin as his eyes flutter closed.
This, he can do. He can focus on this, and not the blood rushing south to his groin so fast that he thinks he might faint.
He isn’t sure what’s going on—he just knows he doesn’t want it to stop.
Somewhere above him, he hears Kim sharply intake a breath. Kim pushes his finger in and out of Chay’s mouth, playing with him.
Chay sucks harder, dragging his tongue over the soft, wet pad of Kim’s finger.
He’s sucking on Kim’s finger , his mind repeats uselessly, over and over and over.
“So eager,” Kim murmurs, and the low rumble of it drops straight to Chay’s cock.
Tears spring to Chay’s eyes. He nods, tilting his head so he can drag his tongue up the side of it. He can’t catch his breath or his thoughts, so he just keeps sucking.
Kim swears, sliding his finger free.
For the briefest of moments, Chay’s heart sinks, devastation washing through him. Did he misread? Has he only humiliated himself further?
What is happening?
But before Chay can spiral too far, Kim’s hands are on him again—spinning him around, crowding him against the sofa, long fingers spread wide as he pushes a hand up Chay’s back.
And Chay understands, his lower tummy sizzling on the inside as he bends forward obediently, bracing himself against the sofa’s spine.
Kim’s body covers his, chest to back, strong hands holding Chay steady by his hips as Chay settles into the pose Kim wants him in.
Warm breath tickles Chay’s ear.
“Tell me, angel,” Kim murmurs. “How many fingers did you squeeze inside that little hole of yours before I came in?”
Chay’s knees tremble, his cock so hard it borders on painful. The wetness inside of him feels too cold now, his entrance too open and empty.
He wants something to fill it.
“T—two,” he admits, choking on the words as they tumble over each other to escape him. “It w—was m—my first time t—trying two.”
Kim hums in acknowledgement, burying his face in Chay’s neck, sucking on the soft skin there, teeth nipping painfully.
Chay flinches, but all of his attention is diverted when the strong grip on his hips vanishes, followed by the jingle of a belt buckle tugging loose.
That sound alone already has him clenching around nothing, his cock twitching.
This is really happening. This is real.
Then one hand returns to Chay’s hip, steadying him, while the other stretches his shorts to the side, revealing his open, wet hole through the oversized pant leg.
Chay struggles to keep his breathing even, energy and nerves prickling across his skin as something blunt and soft rubs up and down across his slick entrance.
Kim’s cock .
The thought steals Chay’s breath entirely. He squirms as Kim slides it between his cheeks, desperate for more, craving the next sensation.
“This will be a tight squeeze then, angel.”
The hand on Chay’s hip tightens almost painfully, and then the blunt tip of Kim’s cock is aligned and pushing against him, unyielding and slow.
Chay rises to be toes, squeezing his eyes shut, barely aware of the needy little cries choking out of his throat as Kim pushes inside, stretching him open wider than he’s ever been before.
Even as slow as Kim is going, it’s so much . Chay feels like his whole body is expanding around Kim to accommodate him. He can’t help but shy away from it.
Kim growls, the hand that was guiding his cock inside flying back to Chay’s other hip. He grasps Chay on both sides, grip bruisingly tight as he firmly pulls Chay back down off of his toes.
A sound rips out of Chay before he realizes he’s made it, a deep primal reaction to the sudden force spearing inside of him. He’s dizzy with it, the way the painful stretch blends so perfectly with pleasure, teetering just on the edge of what he thinks might be his limit.
“That’s it,” Kim breathes behind him. “You can take it. Such a good boy, aren’t you?”
Chay barely has time to whimper in response before Kim is pushing the rest of the way in, the fronts of his thighs finally meeting the backs of Chay’s with the quiet little slap. Chay’s knuckles go white where he grips the back of the sofa, trapped against it, letting out another choked off shout.
Kim hisses, one hand sliding up to spread his fingers wide across Chay’s stomach.
He’s in so deep .
It’s far more than Chay has ever had inside of him before. Part of him worries if it’s too much, too fast. His whole body feels tight and tense, a band stretched thin and ready to snap.
“P—phi—” he starts, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before Kim kicks his feet apart, wrenching another cry from Chay’s throat as he somehow slides deeper.
Chay feels like he’s being split in half.
And then, slowly, Kim slides out.
And pushes back in, unyielding to Chay’s desperate, broken whimpers to slow down.
Then Kim does it again.
And again.
When Chay’s mind finally catches up through the simmering maelstrom of pain-tinged pleasure, he is white-knuckled and moaning, bent over the back of the sofa as Kim fucks him.
Chay can't believe this is happening, can't believe Kim is inside him , can't believe he's having sex let alone that it's with Kim , but his spiraling thoughts are interrupted every time Kim slams into him, because it's so good and Chay is so hard and all he wants to do is come, please, please can he come —
He feels so full —
Don’t let it stop—
Please —
Chay doesn’t realize he’s speaking aloud until Kim hauls him upright, one hand still spread over his stomach and the other sliding up to span his chest beneath his rumpled shirt, and asks, “Please what, angel?”
Kim’s voice is breathy and feral, devilish verve buried beneath wild, unchecked want. He drags his tongue up the side of Chay’s neck, and Chay’s brain errors out.
Chay doesn’t know, can’t bring himself to choke out an answer, because Kim is still fucking him—just more slowly now, soft little rolls of his hips where he barely slides out of Chay’s hole at all.
It does something inside of Chay, snowballing a need inside of him, hot and desperate. He’s so hard, and he wants to touch himself, but he’s never done any of this before and he’s not sure if that’s even allowed .
And then Kim is talking again, almost tauntingly, voice muffled against the nape of Chay’s neck.
“Hmm?” Kim prods. “What is it, baby boy? What do you need? Can’t you tell me?”
Chay discovers, then, through the fog of lust and need, that if he arches his back just so it feels really good , especially when he times it right with Kim's slow, teasing thrusts. He whimpers and follows what feels best, pushing back just a little against Kim's slow, torturous circles.
Kim groans and buries his face in Chay’s neck, sucking another mark there.
" Fuck , that's good," Kim gasps. "Keep doing that—just like that."
As if Chay would stop .
Kim uses the hand on Chay’s stomach to gently guide his rhythm. The soft pressure of it spikes a new wave of pleasure through Chay’s body, this one softer than the last.
And then Chay feels it, the building pleasure spiking hot in his core as his low moans jump to desperate, high-pitched whines. He moves on blind, needy instinct, pushing back desperately into every tiny roll of Kim’s hips.
It builds and bubbles inside of him like spreading static.
So close—
Kim lets out a low, possessive growl. His arms squeeze tight around Chay’s body, holding him firmly in place.
Chay whimpers, unable to get that angle any longer, the pleasure in his tummy fizzling. He squirms and tries anyway, weakly fighting Kim’s iron grasp.
“Please— ah —P’Kim— please —”
Kim ignores Chay’s broken pleas. He pulls out slowly, out and out and out , drawing a long whine out of Chay. He pulls out until the thick head of his cock catches on Chay's entrance. Then, slowly and unrelentingly, he pushes all the way back in.
Chay keens .
The hand on Chay’s stomach slides down to wrap around his cock. If Chay were capable of moving any longer, he would shy away from the over-sensitivity of it, but he can’t . He’s completely lost in Kim now, at the mercy of his whims.
Kim fucks him mercilessly, subjecting Chay to the slick, hard slide of his entire length with every slow, measured thrust, no sound around them but their own needy moans and the quiet slap of skin on skin when their bodies meet.
The static sparkles to life inside of Chay again, building and winding and far too much, too fast as Kim strokes him. Pleasure coils and builds in Chay from every angle, rippling between his own leaking cock and the deep, aching, perfect slide of Kim’s penetrating him.
Tears brim in Chay's eyes as he begs, pleading over and over, the words tumbling nonsensically from his lips. He's not sure what he’s begging for—to speed up, slow down, to fuck him harder, shallower—he can't make sense of anything except that it's all too much .
Then Kim suddenly speeds up and slams into Chay hard , sinking deeper than he ever has, and stays there . Chay can feel Kim's cock twitching inside of him, and Kim's hand around Chay's cock lingers right at the tip, smearing Chay's precome all over, making a mess of him. Kim gives Chay’s cock a few firm, quick strokes, hand wet from Chay’s precome, and circles his hips, piercing inside of Chay so, so unfathomably deep . He starts sucking on Chay's neck again, that thick cock still twitching inside of Chay’s hole as Kim makes low, satisfied, feral sounds.
He’s coming , Chay realizes.
Kim is coming inside of him .
Chay can feel it happening, feel the rhythmic twitch of it as Kim’s cock empties, those fleeting little moments of tension as it spurts inside of him.
It’s all so much, and suddenly Chay is tipping at full speed over the edge of the precipice he’s been dancing along for the entire afternoon. The pleasure boiling inside of him bubbles over and spills.
Chay’s legs shake beneath him. Tension seizes him inside and out, tightening and releasing. His cock twitches in Kim’s hand, come shooting all over the back of the sofa as well as Kim’s fingers, covering them in a sticky white mess.
They both collapse forward against the sofa, Kim supporting Chay's weight to prevent him from crumbling further.
Chay’s toes curl, everything inside of him still stretching and tightening, pleasure echoing back and forth like waves on water. His whole body feels like it might cave in on itself from shakes and shivers.
Kim's cock feels so big inside of him, and Kim is moaning into Chay's shoulder now, his hips still moving in tiny, needy circles as he holds Chay up precariously between himself and the sofa.
Finally, gradually, his rhythm slows, and stops. Chay shies away from the overwhelming sensation of Kim’s hand still softly toying with his cock, and Kim releases it.
Then, carefully, he begins to let go of Chay.
Chay’s legs buckle beneath him, and Kim catches him, both of them still gasping for air.
“Okay,” Kim breathes. “Okay, I’ve got you, angel.”
Gingerly, holding a still-quivering Chay against the back of the sofa, Kim slides his cock free.
It’s not a good sensation—much worse than the feeling of pulling fingers free. Chay whines in protest, dizzy and giddy and already missing the stuffed-full feeling of Kim’s cock spearing into him.
Cool air rushes inside of him for a brief second before his body begins to adjust, and Chay shivers.
Kim hushes him softly, scooping him up like he weighs next to nothing and walking around the front of the sofa to collapse across it with Chay on top of him.
Chay is in Kim’s lap.
He’s in Kim’s lap, on the sofa, stretched open and sore from Kim fucking him.
Chay doesn’t know what to do now.
So he curls up in Kim’s lap and clings to him, mind circling the new, intense, deep ache inside of him that’s like nothing he’s ever felt before.
He still can’t catch his breath. He feels empty and sore and sticky. They’re both still clothed, shirts sticking to their sweaty skin, only their flagging cocks hanging out.
Chay doesn’t have it in himself to feel embarrassed about that, especially since Kim is right there beside him.
Chay looks down and examines Kim’s cock. It’s wet and shiny still, and Chay can’t resist the temptation to free one of his hands from its clinging and brush a gentle finger over the soft, velvety, sticky tip.
It twitches under Chay’s touch, and Kim’s arms tense around him as he inhales sharply.
Chay returns to his clinging, burying his face shyly in Kim’s chest.
And then Chay feels it.
The warm wetness, leaking out of him and dripping down the back of his thigh.
Kim’s come.
Heat rises to Chay’s cheeks. He nuzzles more deeply Kim’s shoulder with a quiet peep, still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, and squeezes his knees together.
He feels a gentle kiss on his hair.
“Oh angel,” Kim murmurs above him. “What am I going to do with you?”
Heat prickles over Chay’s skin.
“What’s got you all flustered now, hmm?” Kim rumbles softly. “I’ve already been inside you. Are you suddenly shy?”
Chay can’t help the needy little whimper that escapes him.
He is shy. He has been this whole time. He’s overwhelmed by all of this, but he wants . He wants so badly, and that overshadows everything else.
Slowly, Chay untangles one of Kim’s hands from around him. Kim follows his lead with quiet, amused curiosity.
Chay’s face burns where it’s very thoroughly hidden against Kim’s chest. He guides Kim’s hand up the stretched out leg of his shorts and between his legs, then abandons it there.
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Kim murmurs, half merciless taunting and half charmed confusion.
“Please,” Chay managed to make himself mumble, muffled against Kim’s shirt. “It’s coming out.”
Kim’s breath catches sharply.
Then, slowly, he drags his fingers over the sticky, wet expanse of Chay’s ass. He lingers over Chay’s hole, rubbing it gently as he gathers up the come there.
It’s sore and tender, but it feels so good , and Chay thinks that if Kim keeps doing that, he might be able to come again just like this.
Then Kim pushes the come back inside of Chay, two fingers slipping easily inside after it.
Chay flinches. He can already feel that he’s going to be walking funny for days.
But he likes this—likes settling bonelessly against the lean muscles of Kim’s body, likes the way Kim’s arm settles so comfortably between Chay’s legs, like he already knows he owns everything he touches there.
Chay is getting hard again.
And by the pleased hum Kim lets out, Kim has noticed. The two fingers inside of Chay move ever-so-gently, rubbing upward inside of Chay’s walls until they find a spot that makes Chay startle and cry out quietly, clinging tighter to Kim’s body.
“I’ve got you, little angel. You’ve got one more in you.”
Chay squirms in Kim’s lap, his legs pinching tight around where Kim’s arm rests between them.
This wasn’t what he intended—he just wanted Kim inside of him, resting there. But now that Kim is moving, his fingers pressing steadily against and around that spot that makes Chay feel like he’s going to burst —Chay thinks Kim might be right.
He wants to come again.
Kim's fingers are slow and steady, almost soothing. He massages Chay from the inside, once again building up that shivery, sparkling pleasure within.
He doesn’t touch Chay’s cock, and Chay doesn’t either, still inescapably chained to Kim’s quiet direction and nothing else.
Chay writhes in Kim’s lap, his cock hard and red against his stomach, little choking gasps wrenching free as Kim’s fingers grow rougher and more demanding inside of him.
Before Chay realizes what’s happening, tension snakes through his body and takes hold of him.
It’s different this time—deeper, more internal. A broken cry escapes him, muffling in Kim’s shirt as his legs squeeze around the solid intrusion of Kim’s arm between them.
Another tiny wave of pearly white come oozes weakly from his exhausted cock, dripping down onto the stretched-out waistband of his shorts as Chay’s whole body trembles.
Kim leaves his fingers inside of Chay this time, letting him catch his breath as he returns to himself.
“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you,” Kim murmurs once Chay seems more settled, “aren’t I?”
Silently, squeezing a little painfully around Kim’s fingers as he does, he nods.
Chay’s mind clears and his heart calms, the cloying scent of cotton candy heavy on the air around them.
That’s when Kim’s fingers withdraw slowly from Chay’s hole. It’s not as uncomfortable as when he slid his cock free, but Chay makes a displeased chirp about it all the same.
Wet, sticky fingers grab Chay chin and tilt it upward, forcing him to meet Kim’s eyes.
Kim’s gaze is dark—soft the way it always gets when he looks at Chay, but sharpened by an edge of possessiveness that Chay has never seen before.
“Tell me, then,” Kim orders roughly. “Tell me you wanted this. That you want it now.”
Chay tries to nod, but Kim only grips his face more tightly. Come and lube smear over Chay’s jaw and cheeks.
“Say it,” Kim demands quietly.
Chay swallows, his heart hammering.
“I want this,” he whispers. “I want you, P’Kim.”
Kim’s smile is wicked and dizzying.
“I want you to belong to me,” Kim growls. “Only me.”
Once again, Chay tries to nod, and once again, Kim firmly holds him in place.
“Please,” Chay rasps.
Finally, Kim releases Chay’s chin. He wraps his sticky hand around the back of Chay’s neck instead, leaning down to kiss him.
Chay melts into it, the way he has been to every touch Kim has graced him with. It’s softer than anything before, like Kim is exploring, trying to learn him anew.
Kim pulls back and leans his forehead against Chay’s.
“My little angel,” he breathes. “We have so much to discuss.”