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If someone were to guess what Kinn's favourite place would be, they would simply say something classy. Perhaps a gala or a garden party. Maybe they would assume something sumptuous, extravagant even.
Rather no. In fact, they would be wrong.
Very wrong.
Kinn twirls his fingertip on the rim of his glass, half filled with whiskey, humming a distant tune to himself while he studies the bar with a clear disinterest. It’s a fancy place, he’ll give it that, a sort of minimalist classical. He doesn’t exactly blend in with the crowd, anyone with eyes can see he’s a Theerapanyakul. It explains why the bar stools stand empty beside him and the occasional wary glances thrown at him every few minutes.
Time seems to be passing too slowly for Kinn’s liking. The only thing accompanying him being the tacky purple and blue fluorescent lights beaming above his head and the bartender sending knowing, yet fretful looks his way.
Though it's quieter tonight, the way Kinn prefers it.
It's not that he hates the noise, nor the people, just the sheer amount of scents is bothersome. Distracting. The rowdiness causes him to feel unsettled if anything. This isn’t his usual scene, there’s no doubt about that.
He's sure his men are on high alert tonight, watching anyone who even dares look at Kinn in a funny way. It's unlikely for some altercation to brew in here of all places, but you can never be too careful.
His glass is empty, Kinn muses after a while. He doesn't bother in shifting his gaze to the entertainment swinging around on stage or other performers offering their services as he passes. He merely reaches for his drink again once the bartender had hurriedly refilled it.
When it's finally time, and the guard gives him a nod of acknowledgement, he slips past the red curtains, quickly flashing his wallet to the man, holding his VIP membership card to gain entry to the door behind him.
The anticipation of what is to come is almost overbearing for Kinn. The heat brimming just enough for him to yank at his tie, loosening the clothing and undoing the first two buttons of his shirt in the process. He slips off his suit jacket for good measure.
Kinn takes the chance to give the room a quick once over, despite how well-acquainted he is with it. A couch that's long enough to fit at least five stretches across a glass table in the middle. A small stage is placed where the workers can choose to dance in front of their customers. VIP exclusive, mind you. The lights rise up to ignite the stage to a vivid playfulness. It's bland, but cosy all the same. He takes the seat in the centre so that he can face directly in front of the door.
There's no way in hell he's going to miss a second of the sight he's anticipating.
It’s not too long before Kinn’s patience is rewarded.
A slow swing of the door catches his attention instantly.
As if sensing his agitation, a lone figure struts into the room.
Kinn holds his breath for a moment.
Long legs and wide hips swing sensually, making Kinn feel utterly blessed witnessing it. Those high, black heels click across the floor with purpose towards him, slinking towards him like a predator approaching its prey.
Porsche's eyes wander, dark pools of brown soaking up the broad and smiling alpha sitting impatiently in front of him. He makes a little show of flaunting himself in front of the wealthier man, lips curving into a smirk as he gives Kinn a once over.
Now Porsche is a highly sought-after omega and he is all his for the night. It's understandable why he's the top dog around here. He's what most call a flamboyant type of omega. Pretty and mouthy, yet his confidence is what draws people in. Alphas practically swoon at his touch, at his presence. Kinn is no exception.
And that scent is beyond belief.
It's almost unusual. Omegas often tend to have overly sweet scents like honey or some type of flower, but Porsche on the other hand has more of a brazen smell. It's pure cinnamon, warm, full and a little fruity, but the fragrance never fails to drive Kinn mad with desire.
Porsche smells good. Too good.
The amount of times he's gone through this same routine, the mere sight of the omega has Kinn's downcast eyes brightening. It feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. He stares appreciatively, eyeing Porche's special number for tonight.
He’s not sure whether he should thank or kill whoever told Porsche to wear this dress.
"Still can’t get enough of me, Khun Kinn?"
Ever since the cheeky omega overheard Ken refer to him as Khun, he quickly latched onto it.
It has Kinn failing to suppress a chuckle, turning in his seat to look over Porsche once more. He needs more time to soak him all in.
He takes great delight in watching Porsche pout when all he does is take another sip of his whiskey.
"No," he answers honestly, tipping his head upward and narrowing his brows, "Do you know how hard it is to get a slot with you, Porsche? I had to wait weeks."
He tries his best to sound annoyed but Porsche just grins at him, eyes twinkling with unrestrained mirth. "I'm picky with my clients, I apologise for the wait." Except, he's not sorry at all, and Kinn knows that. The brat.
"Sit," he commands, restraint wearing thin, gesturing beside himself on the plush seat. His glower falls off his face when that scent draws closer. Kinn doesn't hesitate, pulling Porsche until they're practically glued together. He smiles at the omega snuggling into his side.
It shouldn’t be a coincidence that their scents intertwine so perfectly.
Kinn’s scent matches that of cedarwood, paired with citrus and floral notes. It’s a scent that he isn’t afraid of showing off. It’s a luxuriously warm and inviting aroma. A perk of having a dominant alpha lineage, he supposes.
In that split second when their scents entangle, every nerve in Kinn’s body and brain is electrified. It's the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words, in a way that's so completely tangible.
"Why do you always request me out of all the omegas?" Porsche asks dazedly, cocking his head to look up at Kinn who's relaxed into the seat, one hand around his glass and the other resting comfortably on Porsche's bare thigh. "Then you wouldn’t have to wait so long."
He doesn’t protest when the omega snatches his drink out of his grasp, watching him down all the whiskey in one go.
The alpha considers him thoughtfully.
"You're the most gorgeous person I've ever laid my eyes on, I don’t think I need further reasoning, do I? Why would I choose someone else?" Kinn murmurs over the soothing vibe of the room, the ambience settling into his bones. Porsche batters his sweet eyelashes at Kinn, unable to prevent his own hand from covering the alphas on his thigh. Soft meeting calloused.
Not only that, but Porsche just feels so… different.
His type is usually small, petite omegas. Docile. Pretty little things who beg so easily and cater to his every whim.
But Porsche is a wild thing, a firework set to go off. Kinn can always see it dance in his eyes, that sense of mischief that needs release.
Every time he’s around Porsche his head spins, his world turns on axis.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he can distinctly make out that Porsche is blushing— though hard to tell with the colours radiating off of him in pinks and blues. If his scent growing a tad stronger is anything to go by. God, he knows him too well.
"So you came here to unwind and see your favourite omega?" Porsche teases in turn, leaning dangerously closer. His scent washes over Kinn like a wave. He would happily drown in it. It's enriching. Tempting.
Kinn doesn't lie to him. "Yes," he agrees, loving the way Porsche's thigh twitches in response, basking in the subtle reaction.
Porsche is opening his mouth, no doubt about to say something cheeky but is interrupted as the alpha suddenly pats his thigh. Instead, with a smirk, the omega doesn’t need to be told twice as he lowers himself slowly, but surely onto Kinn's lap.
And oh fuck— how he missed this.
Porsche’s breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as morning light. Porsche’s body squirms just a little as his muscles relax. There is something about that gaze of his Kinn will never find with anyone else.
Those long and slender hands easily find their place, intertwining themselves into his hair, beginning to curl his fingers into the stubborn strands.
Almost instantly, a rumble reverberates from the alpha's throat, A sound so quiet you might miss it, but Porsche's eyes light up in recognition and he continues his ministrations. The alpha gladly nudges into the omega's touch like a disgruntled puppy. All while Kinn's hand's spider up until they reach his hips. Wide and full. Porsche’s body should be a sin, every curve carved into perfection.
Soft eyes stare down at him, hopeful and full of adoration. His eyes are so different in moments like these, unreadable yet captivating.
If it were anyone else, Kinn would drop his gaze, but with Porsche he's drawn in closer, always wanting more.
Porsche bites his bottom lip. Kinn watches the movement like a hawk, transfixed.
Kinn wants to kiss him.
"Long day?" Porsche’s body squirms a little more, adjusting, knowing fully the effect it has on the alpha. In turn, Kinn lightly tickles him and a sweet grin blooms across Porsche's face. The giggles leaving the omega's lips shouldn’t have him smiling as widely as he should.
"You could say that."
"Mm, wanna talk about it?"
It’s sweet of him but Kinn doesn’t feel like reciting his failed deal with the Italians which resulted in 2 men dead, so he shakes his head.
"I’d rather you take my mind off it, darling."
Hands that were born to kill trail absentmindedly up Porsche's inner thigh, taking great care in appreciating the unblemished expanse of Porsche's skin.
Gorgeous is all he can think. Such an omega shouldn't have to reside in a club of all places, dancing for other men.
Kinn is not a jealous person, but when it comes to Porsche, there's a surge of possessiveness that he tries to dismiss with a heavy heart.
He had attempted to pay for exclusivity, to pay for Porsche. All of him.
But, Porsche won’t let him.
"I’m not something you can buy, Kinn," Porsche had told him after he spent his first time at the club with the man— the night the omega discovered his true colours. Mafia. Dangerous. "Ask me that again and I’ll tell Yok that I don’t feel comfortable with you."
That’s all it took for Kinn to never mention it again.
Is it such a crime that he wishes to carve his own name into Porsche's skin?
It’s not as if what Porsche said deterred him in the slightest.
If anything, Kinn loves a challenge.
Porsche sighs, touching his own stomach, palming his chest while looking down at Kinn through his lashes. They flutter repetitively, seducing.
Kinn grits his teeth, audibly swallowing. The sound has Porsche’s eyes boring into his throat, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
“What did you have in mind, sir?” Porsche coos.
“Dance for me.”
“Ask nicely and I’ll consider it.”
Brat.
Kinn turns a blind eye to the fingers crawling up his cufflinks, allowing the omega to have free rein to his wrist. He doesn’t complain when Porsche unstraps his watch and fumbles around so he can put it on himself instead. Kinn had bought the watch in a boutique a few weeks ago, it was a thing of beauty and not to mention, Kinn’s favourite.
It looks prettier on Porsche, he concludes.
Something about having an item of his being on Porsche… it’s the equivalent of an alpha giving clothing to their omega to mark their territory.
Kinn growls lowly, pleased. Proud.
"Stop thinking." Porsche is standing now, and Kinn's hands flop uselessly to his side. He’s not complaining though; any angle of Porsche is sure to be a treat. "Focus on me, darling."
Porsche is getting on the stage and Kinn’s brain is already short-circuiting.
When Porsche flows in dance, it's with no doubt that it’s the most breathtaking sight Kinn has ever seen. It’s as if it were only his body that knows how to speak. All that Kinn can think about is how goddamn sexy Porsche is. He quickly gets lost in the music, body twisting, showcasing sinful curves and angles that Kinn wants to map out with his hands and mouth.
Porsche flexes his back muscles in preparation to lift himself, almost exposing himself as he spins. He plants a hand back on the pole and rocks his hips forward. The momentary action causes the slit in his dress to ride up and Kinn gets an eyeful of thighs and a mouthful of drool.
On stage, his sensuality bursts through the most. Like a drug, Kinn is soon addicted. He watches him move to the music filling the room. As Porsche turns, hands still gripping the pole, his eyes catch him staring so intensely. Porsche drops his gaze momentarily before looking, his head tilted to one side and a hopeful smile plays on his lips.
"You're fucking perfect."
The way Porsche beams at him, his smile having Kinn completely at his mercy.
Kinn really needs to kiss him.
A crook of his fingers catches Porsche's attention.
"Porsche, come here."
Porsche does— obeying him with a slight saunter in his hips.
He’s clearly putting on an act. Kinn knows that Porsche is just as disoriented as he is, dizzy with lust. Dazed with tenderness.
The shirt he's wearing is what Porsche is struggling to focus on. He tries to keep his eyes fixated on his face, but he can't. Kinn looks simply ravishing. Handsome as ever. It’s just unfair.
Kinn is talking again— talking about something. It has to be something that would have Porsche's knees going weak. Porsche knows he should be listening, but Kinn is leaning even closer.
The air grows humid around him and he finds himself subconsciously tugging at the hem of his dress. The heat is a little too unbearable because Porsche—
"— listening to me?"
The harsh squeeze to his thigh and the accompanied silken voice snaps Porsche out of his daze, and he manages to drag his eyes away from the pronounced curve of Kinn's bicep, restrained against that— that ridiculous shirt to gain focus.
"I'm listening to you, Kinn," Porsche lies, smiling sweetly at him. "I always listen to you, don't I?"
"Alright, sweetheart. What was I saying?"
A silence hangs upon them for a moment, although to Porsche it feels like an eternity. The only sound being the smooth rhythm of pretty jazz music now playing through his laptop. Far too romantic for the current situation.
Porsche hesitates. "Uhm."
"Uhm," Kinn parrots. "I was talking about you, actually," he continues as he recoils slightly in favour of pouring himself some whiskey. He shakes his head in that stupid, attractive way to shift a loose curl out of his eyes.
"Me?" Porsche blinks, once, twice.
"Do you not realise how ethereal you look in this dress?" Kinn brags, making a great point of looking him up and down. There's a clear sense of adoration in that stare.
Pride bursts in Porsche's chest as swiftly and as brilliantly as fireworks.
His dress really is a special number. Lace upon silk, hugging his body like a delicate petal. It's cosy on his body. It would feel even cosier if Kinn wrapped those arms around his waist.
"Did you see the back?" the omega quips, and Kinn should definitely not be finding it as endearing as he should when Porsche grins excitedly. He doesn’t even give Kinn any time to respond, just hops off of his lap, and spins around so Kinn can get a good look.
He doesn’t know how long his patience can last. It’s hanging by a thread.
That tale of confidence in his appearance, skin like honeyed perfection, and a sweet dimpled smile looking back at him. Kinn is going insane.
A tattoo of a Phoenix resides on his back, something Kinn is all too familiar with. The opening of the dress allows him to appreciate it more. It’s fitting. Porsche reminds Kinn of fire and ash, stinging at his core.
Fuck, he's stunning. He’s running out of words to describe him.
He'd be even more stunning with diamonds all across his body, yes— for his neck a choker would be fitted perfectly. An assortment of chains draped around that criminally small waist. He’s already picturing a ring on Porsche's finger—
"I would cherish you," he finds himself saying after a few moments, hands finding home at Porsche's waist again when the omega casually plops down back onto his lap. Porsche loves his reactions; hence why he keeps squirming so nonchalantly. This way, Kinn can feel it all, Porsche's ass on his lap, the delicate lace of his thong rubbing on his knee.
The things Porsche does to him.
Kinn leans forward to murmur softly in his ear, "If you would have me, Porsche. I’d give you anything you wanted, I would treasure you, pamper you, anything—"
"Stop talking."
Porsche grabs his face and kisses him. Hard.
The initial force and hunger of it has Kinn making a soft sound into his mouth, but he quickly recovers. He doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss with equal fervour, his hands gently smoothing over the omega's back, Porsche's upon his chest. Not long after, he's rumbling again. Kinn's alpha is pleased, and satiated and Porsche's omega must feel the same way. They're both purring, gripping onto each other like they're their last lifelines.
Allowing his mind to go blank, Kinn forgets about every lingering problem, because he’s loved this for so long, he’s known it since the first time they met. He leans into the kiss, full of desperation and want and Porsche is emitting sounds so erotic that Kinn is losing it. He wants this, wants Porsche to himself so badly. He’ll have to kill any man who even dares look at him at this point.
They need to breathe eventually. Kinn is heaving for breath when Porsche leans back to catch his own. He already looks fucked out and Kinn hasn’t even done anything yet.
Though Porsche's lips are pretty, glazed over with gloss, it’s the feel of them that sends Kinn’s mind into a sensual state of intoxication. That’s why he reaches toward his face and touches him lightly before the urge to kiss the omega again takes over.
Porsche is emitting wanton mewls into his mouth, trying and failing to push Kinn away to no avail. He deepens the kiss instead, cradling Kinn's head in his hands, fighting briefly in a battle for dominance. Until Kinn growls and moves down to suck a harsh mark into Porsche's neck.
The omega moves away, dewy pools of brown blinking at him, frowning.
Kinn briefly tightens the muscles in his arms and Porsche doesn't miss it.
Porsche wants to look, and he wants to touch, so he does.
Curling his hands around Kinn's bicep and squeezing feels good.
The alpha grins, turning his nose into the curve of Porsche's jaw, planting kisses too tender to belong to a mafia. Kinn descending upon his neck starts a fire within Porsche no one else could ever ignite.
Kinn watches him, eyelids lowering to half mast. His starless irises glitter beneath the short fan of his dark lashes. "See something you like?"
Of course, Porsche likes it. He loves it. He loves the way the fabric clings to his impressive pectorals and cuts away from the rounded edge of the broad shoulders.
"I bet you could lift me… carry me," Porsche murmurs dreamily, slightly teasing. "You're so strong…"
"I could do more than just that," Kinn whispers fervently. "If you let me."
Porsche pretends to think, humming softly. "No."
"Porsche," Kinn groans like he's just been stabbed in the chest. He may as well have been, the pain is too similar.
"You're trouble, Kinn," Porsche muses, grinding his hips gingerly on the alpha's lap. He’s pretty certain that isn’t a gun that’s bulging in his slacks. A huff of laughter leaves his chest at Kinn’s scrunched-up face.
"I thought you liked trouble," Kinn defends.
"Not when it can get me killed."
Kinn furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t respond. In lieu, he tugs the omega close to his chest, as if they could get any closer. They’re practically glued at this point, but Porsche’s breath still hitches in surprise, looking down at Kinn, startled.
"I bet that if I fucked you against the wall, I could hold you up the entire time."
Porsche inhales sharply as his brain immediately envisions it.
They would both be mostly naked, though Porsche can imagine himself draped in luxury. Numerous jewels on his body, around his waist, as Kinn adores. The sunlight illuminating them individually and yet all as one. There's something thrilling about being spoiled, having Kinn by his side is erupting something inside Porsche that he never wished to admit.
Porsche's dress would be thrown on the floor, along with Kinn's suit, and his slacks would be a pool of fabric around his feet. Porsche would cling to Kinn as he thrusts into him. Calloused hands would grip under his thighs, and his hooded brown eyes would be staring at him, watching Porsche's reactions.
"You like that, don’t you?" Kinn leers, his voice coming out as more of a rasp, lower than usual. Not helping Porsche in the slightest. "Tell me you want it, tell me you want me."
Kinn’s grip on Porsche’s hips tightens. He squeezes until it hurts, and Porsche knows he’s going to get scolded by Yok big time for it. The strength of it just has Porsche clenching his thighs together, and he knows that Kinn is aware of how much he loves it.
It makes Porsche wonder if this could be an end to it all if this was Kinn’s plan all along— in an effort to win him over. For Kinn to keep him close by, to show off and spoil.
Whatever Kinn’s doing, it's working.
That's the problem.
"Porsche," Kinn whispers, fiercely and desperately. "Tell me."
And for the first time, but not the last, Porsche tells him.