Chapter Text
One day, two months into his stay at the mafia compound, Chay opens his eyes and decides he can’t go on like this anymore.
He wakes on a couch in Tankhun’s rooms, as has been normal for the week. He spends his days splitting time between his bed and Tankhun’s couch, and the prospect of spending one more day rewatching the same drama again compels him to finally go track down his brother.
Porsche is hard to find during the day, but his mornings are always in Khun Kinn’s rooms. Chay knocks loudly, three times, and announces himself. “Hia?” Then he waits, knowing that Porsche is probably trying to find some pants. Chay would have just barged in if they had been in their house, but he knows better than to do that here and now.
Porsche looks rumpled and radiant when he opens the door and exclaims “Chay!” joyfully, as if he were surprised to see his brother standing there. It makes Chay’s chest squeeze tight in a way that yesterday would have sent him crawling back under his bed covers, but enough is enough.
“I need a therapist,” Chay says and watches the smile fall from his brother’s face.
Porsche looks away - looks at Kinn probably somewhere in the room, he’s always looking at Kinn - and opens the door wider. “Come in, let’s talk.”
Porsche leads him over to the couch in front of the large windows overlooking all of Bangkok. Chay wonders how Porsche feels safe here, being so exposed all the time. In Chay’s room he had pulled the blinds shut on the first day and hadn’t opened them again since.
“What’s going on, Porchay?” Kinn asks, breaking Chay’s concentration on the windows as he brings over a tray with his and Porsche’s breakfast.
“I need a therapist,” Chay repeats himself.
“What’s going on, Chay?” Porsche repeats Kinn’s question as if Chay hadn’t already told him an answer twice, “Did something happen?”
Chay just… can’t handle that question. What’s happened? What hasn’t happened? He looks at Porsche as Porsche looks back at him, and he can see his brother searching his eyes for something. Chay doesn’t know how to be more direct than he has been already. He feels like he’s been advertising to the whole world I’m not okay.
After a minute of heavy silence, Kinn speaks up. “You can’t just see anyone, Chay,” he says. He sounds apologetic about it at least.
“Right, I figured.”
“Tankhun’s been seeing someone for years now, I can reach out to him to make an appointment.”
Chay purses his lips with a frown. “No offense, Khun Kinn,” he says slowly, apologetically, “but I don’t know that Tankhun’s therapist did a great job.” He rubs the back of his neck as he speaks, feeling guilty for even saying it.
Kinn looks angry, and then, resigned. Finally he lets out a deep breath, “he’s better than he was. Before. You didn’t know him then but-”. He cuts himself off, and then takes Porsche’s hand and another deep breath. “I’ll make some calls.”
Kinn looks at Porsche with his solemn, dark eyes, so much like his brother’s. Chay has to get out of here.
He stands abruptly, “Thanks, Khun,” and makes for the door.
“Wait, Chay,” Porsche is on him before he gets anywhere, “Stay and talk to me. At least stay for breakfast.”
Porsche’s hand feels heavy on his shoulder, grounding. It would be so easy to curl into his brother like he had so many times before when-
A phone starts ringing from Porsche’s pocket, and Kinn’s ipad chirps. They both hesitate a second, glancing at their devices. Chay can see Porsche decide he’s about to ignore the call when there’s a knock at the door.
“The car is ready, sirs,” Big’s voice calls from the other side.
“You’re busy,” he shrugs Porsche’s arm off, “maybe next time, hia.”
He wants to let the door echo as he closes it forcefully on his way out but Porsche has already answered his phone so Chay doesn’t think he noticed.
The next day Chay gets a message from Kinn with an appointment time. Apparently Miss Erika has a sister who’s a counselor. She doesn’t work for the mafia at present, but she had been born into it and her normal clientele consisted of ex-cons. She could be trusted.
As much as anyone could be trusted these days.
But Chay drags himself from his bedroom and goes to sit in her office. Porsche had offered to drive him, but something had come up last minute. Chay hadn’t expected him to be able to make it anyway, and he doesn’t need help just getting to an appointment. The office is within walking distance but a new bodyguard, Tao, drives him instead since the cars have bulletproof glass. Chay checks twice that he is still wearing the GPS tracking bracelet Arm had given him. It hasn’t left his wrist since he received it, but the compulsion to check it’s there happens anyway.
The therapist’s office isn’t like the compound. It’s tucked in a business park not too far from a shopping area Chay likes and it feels real in a way Chay’s new home doesn’t. The chairs in the waiting room are mismatched, and there’s a scuff on her shoes that Chay spots as she leads him into her office. It settles him, seeing the imperfections.
She’s younger than he expected. She wears her hair in a messy bun that’s just the right side of professional, and he doesn’t think she’s wearing any makeup. She asks him to call her Milk. She asks him why he’s here.
He tells her nearly everything. The loan sharks, his uncle, Porsche disappearing, Chay getting kidnapped, moving into the compound, moving out of the compound, moving back in again but this time with noticeably fewer inhabitants, his mother being alive. He tells her everything except for anything about Kim.
He knows she can tell there’s something being edited from his story, but she doesn’t press immediately on those bruises and he’s grateful to her for it. He’ll have to talk about Kim at some point, but he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet.
“Chay,” she says when he’s done, adjusting her glasses as she looks at her notes, “this is really fucked up.”
It catches him off guard - because it is super fucked up, he knows that, but no one had said back to him before. And he hasn’t expected it from this tiny proper woman who probably hears a lot of fucked up things. He can’t help but snort a completely undignified laugh.
“And another thing,” she sets her notes aside and leans her elbows on her knees, her head balanced on her hand. She’s really looking at Chay. “I’ve only known you for an hour of your life, but I’m really proud of you. It’s a lot of work to get yourself here after what you’ve been through.”
Of all the things he’d talked about that day, this is the only thing that makes him reach for the conveniently nearby tissue box.
His first mission from Milk, should he choose to accept it, is to go to the local coffee shop.
He checks his bracelet. Still there.
Tao looks surprised when Chay tells him they’re leaving the compound and doubly surprised when Chay asks if he’s carrying but he’s pretty patient answering Chay’s questions about his qualifications.
“We’ll be perfectly safe, young master,” he tells Chay, “but if you’re worried we can get a latte made for you here.” He smiles, like he knows what this is all about and it’s what makes Chay determined to see their journey through.
He checks how secure the clasp on his tracking bracelet is as he enters the cafe, but then is struck with the smell of coffee. There’s an espresso machine grinding and whirring, and the baristas are happily chatting amongst themselves as they make orders. About half the tables are filled, and there’s a definite hum to the space. Admittedly he hadn’t spent a lot of time hanging out in cafes before - lattes get expensive when every bhat goes to your uncle’s debts - but he’d thought cafe’s were supposed to be quiet, soothing places where people could sit quietly.
“We can turn around and leave,” Tao offers. Chay realizes he hasn’t moved from the entry, Tao still awkwardly holding the door behind him.
“No,” Chay says with a determination he doesn’t feel and marches up to the counter.
There’s a mother with her baby in line ahead of Chay, giving him a chance to look over the menu. Before, if he were out with friends and they wanted to go for coffee he would get the cheapest thing on the menu. A drip coffee or small americano - bitter drinks he choked down and was grateful for. It was better to have something to drink with his friends than be the one awkwardly not getting anything, with everyone knowing why.
But there’s a shiny new card with a staggering allowance burning a hole in his pocket now.
“What’s the most expensive and ridiculous drink you have?” Chay asks the barista as he gets close.
She’d previously looked bored, and mildly annoyed that the mother was having trouble balancing the baby and her wallet, but now she at least looks mildly amused. “Do you want to know or do you want me to just make it for you as a surprise?”
“Uh,” he fumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess tell me?”
Before-Chay would have definitely chosen the surprise. He’s learning all sorts of things about After-Chay today.
“Have you tried our white chocolate mocha cookie crumble birthday latte?” the barista asks. She doesn’t look disappointed by his reply.
Chay hands over his credit card. “With whip please. And sprinkles.”
The drink is ridiculous and expensive, and Chay gets to leave a tip as large as the coffee cost. It makes him feel good that he can do that. Maybe his true calling is to spend all the mafia’s money leaving 100% tips for service workers. He even thinks Porsche would approve of this plan.
Ridiculous drink acquired, and Tao holding his own black coffee, Chay turns his eyes to the cafe tables. There’s a relatively empty spot in the corner by the window that he beelines for, but then stops before sitting down.
If he takes the seat in the corner he’s got walls on two sides and has a full field of view to watch the other patrons, but then Tao would sit across from him and Tao wouldn’t be able to see the comings and goings. Tao is better trained to spot potential threats, but Chay doesn’t want his back turned-
Tao solves the problem by taking the seat against the wall at the next table over from the one in the corner. Chay sighs and tries not to look too relieved as he sits in the corner. He can see everyone now, and can watch the barista’s complicated dance around the espresso machines and blenders as she makes more orders. They only have to stay for an hour, he reminds himself.
He finally relaxes enough to take a sip of his monstrosity coffee and-
And-
They’re definitely coming back next week.
“What’s one thing that you want right now, Chay?”
That’s the easiest question his therapist has asked today. “I wish I could go back to a year ago, when it was just hia and I living our lives.”
“And what is it about a year ago that you had then, but you don’t have now?”
“A lack of the mafia,” Chay chuckles gloomily. “It all fell apart when Porshce signed up to be a bodyguard.”
“And why is that?”
“He left me alone.” Even though Chay knows why he did it now, it still hurts to think about those nights by himself in a big empty house, knowing that no one would walk through the front door and ask about Chay’s day. He wishes now he had been more firm with Porsche about letting go of the house and moving into a small apartment they could afford, but knows it would have been futile. Once Porsche has made up his mind about something, he’s determined to see it through.
“But you’re not alone now, you’re living with your brother again.”
“He’s so busy though, he never has time for me.”
“You said earlier that he worked many hours as a bartender, so during the day you were at school and in the evenings he was at work. Was it the amount of time you have with him that’s changed?”
There’s a picture of a beach seascape on the wall and he focuses on the waves while he talks. Its easier when he doesn’t have to meet Milk’s eyes when she’s challenging him about something. “Well he’s… he’s technically around more now. He makes sure to eat meals with me when he can, and we only got that weekend mornings before.”
“So it’s the quality of time you spend together now that’s different? What did Porsche do before that you enjoyed?”
Chay’s attention drifts away from the seascape and he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling while he thinks. “The thing is. Hia was really busy before. When we were together before we were always taking care of each other. I was patching him up after a fight, or he was making sure I was eating right. Or we’d work together to fix something around the house, or go shopping together at four different grocery stores to find the lowest prices for the different things we needed. These days we just… take meals together. And then he’s rushing off with P’Kinn again.”
“Your interactions were always dealing with the fact you were in survival mode. Now things are comfortable enough that you can do more than just survival tasks together, but you don’t know what that looks like.”
“I guess.” Chay hadn’t really thought of it like that before. “I can’t talk to him about school, because I’m not going to school, and I can’t talk to him about my friends because I don’t see them anymore. The only thing we have to talk about is the mafia.”
“So what you want is something you can share with your brother?”
“What I want,” Chay says bitterly, “is something to do at all.”
Milk leans forward in her chair. “Say more about that.”
“All day I watch shows with Tankhun or I sit in my room. My phone isn’t even a good distraction because all my social media is filled with-”
with wik, Chay had been about to say, but he hasn’t touched that bucket of worms yet, and he’s not ready to crack it open today.
Milk waits, patiently as always to see if he’ll finish that sentence, and moves on when he makes it clear he won’t. “How much control do you feel like you have over your life, Chay?”
Chay laughs humorlessly at the question. “Literally none.”
“Is that true?” Milk asks again. “Who’s idea was it for you to seek therapy?”
“Mine,” Chay says grudgingly.
“And how did you get it?”
“I told my brother and P’Kinn that I needed it.”
“So you told your guardians what you needed, then they helped you make it happen. That’s not something someone with literally no agency can do.”
“Fine, then I can’t do anything I want anymore.”
“Oh, and what is it you want?”
“I want to be able to leave the compound without worrying about getting kidnapped.”
“That’s a great goal,” Milk says gently. “And you’re already making good progress on that by coming here today. But what comes after? Once you can leave as you please, where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”
Chay is glad for the window in Milk’s office, it gives him something to stare out of when he doesn’t know the answer to something. They sit in silence for the rest of the session while Chay wracks his brain.
On Thursday afternoons, Chay goes to visit his mother. There’s nothing special about Thursday afternoon, but Chay has promised Porsche he’d visit their mother regularly, and he feels once a week meets that requirement. But he doesn’t want it looming over his weekend, not that he’s been doing anything differently on the weekends than he’s been going the rest of the week, but it’s nice to have a schedule.
It’s only guilt that motivates him to visit his mother because actually, he hates spending time with her. Chay doesn’t have memories of her when she’d been a person because he hadn’t been one yet. Now the roles are reversed, but there’s no waiting for a future when things are different. She’s not expected to make a recovery, even though Porsche is desperately hopeful that spending time with her will help awaken her memories.
Chay wonders how broken she’d been on her first days locked in this room by Korn, and how much worse she is now after sixteen years in captivity. Wonders when exactly she’d crossed the line to someone who was lost forever. Chay sees in her his future if he doesn’t find anything to do with himself.
She stares at a canvas, he stares at the wall vaguely near where she’s sitting.
“What do you want, mom?” He asks, knowing he won’t get an answer, but it feels like a question he should ask her anyway.
He might see her pause moving her brush over the canvas, stuttering as she paints the wings of a bird, but more likely he imagines it.
He sits with her for an hour before he leaves.
He goes to the coffee shop again the next week, and when the barista asks him what he wants he’s able to reply “something exceedingly frivolous. Do you have recommendations?”
It’s the same barista as last week, and apparently she remembers him. She studies him with squinted eyes this time, and rests a finger on her lips to show she’s really considering it. “You look like you need a salted caramel butterscotch frappe.”
“Whip and sprinkles, please,” Chay agrees with her. He makes sure to tip her generously, and he thinks she piles the whipped cream extra high for him. He’s decided this barista is good people, and hopes she’s not secretly poisoning him for a secret nefarious reason.
That said, after tasting his salted caramel butterscotch frappe with extra whipped cream and sprinkles, he thinks he would be fine being poisoned for a nefarious purpose as long as it tastes like this.
He sits at the same corner table as last time and watches the other patrons as he fiddles with his tracking bracelet. He evaluates them for threats like Big taught him to - determining where they could be hiding weapons, watching where their attention is, watching what their hands are doing. The people in strappy sandals and heels are unlikely suspects, but he keeps an eye out for anyone wearing military grade boots who’s otherwise dressed as a civilian.
Once he’s sure no one is going to come after him with chloroform he starts looking at what they’re actually doing. There’s a guy with big glasses tapping away at a computer, and a woman whose attention is split between helping her toddler eat lunch and her phone. There are three little old ladies at one table, who seem to be comparing knitting projects (those knitting needles could be surprisingly sharp, could be used to stab someone, those crafting bags could be holding more than yarn).
But his eyes are drawn to a young pair. He thinks he saw them introduce themselves when they first arrived. He wonders if they’re meeting for work or for pleasure. He’s pretty sure it’s pleasure, although the guy has no game. His cheeks are a perpetual red, and though Chay isn’t close enough to hear them he knows the guy has fumbled his words more than a few times. He keeps getting distracted by the woman’s cleavage.
Luckily the woman seems to be eating it up, if the way she’s leaning forward slightly into the table to keep that cleavage highlighted is any indication.
It seems so easy, what they have. They clearly know what they want, and they’re communicating it loud and clear. Neither of them are playing it hot and cold, they’re just hot and steadily growing more heated. It’s not like one of them keeps trying to leave and the other keeps clinging. They want each other, and soon enough they get up together and leave together, the guy’s hand resting impolitely low on the woman’s back.
He thinks, have fun you crazy kids, and laughs that he’s rooting for a couple where both of them are probably ten years older than he is and he doesn’t know at all, who probably met on a dating app and will be nothing but a hook up to each other.
He purposefully thinks about the way they looked at each other. He accidentally thinks about the way Kim had looked at him. He thinks too much about the way he had wanted Kim to look at him.
He thinks he knows what he wants.
“I think I want to be a cam boy,” Chay tells his therapist casually at their next session.
“Okay,” his therapist, a champion, responds without blinking. “Talk to me about your motivation.”
“I’m cute, I’m shameless, and I want to feel desired,” Chay rattles off. “Plus I’m looking for a good teenage rebellion that won’t immediately be reported back to the heads of the local mafia.”
“It sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this already.”
“I want to be wanted,” Chay says, because he’s been thinking about it a lot since their last session. “I don’t want to be a burden, or a ward to take care of, or a means to an end. I want someone to want me without anything complicated getting in the way. And what’s simpler than sex?”
“Lots of things,” Milk says, with an expression Chay can’t really read and doesn’t want to, “Most things are simpler than sex, some would say.”
“Well I wouldn’t know,” Chay responds, only a little petulant, “Because no one’s ever wanted me.”
“Why a cam boy?” Milk asks. Chay gets the feeling this conversation isn’t actually over and will come up again, but he’s happy to move on for now.
He’s ready with an answer. “It’s too dangerous for me to meet people right now,” Chay says, “I can’t exactly run a background check on a grindr hookup. I can be a cam boy from the comfort of my own room, and the only one I have to watch out for is myself.”
“If you’re just looking for sex, there are agencies I know people of your position have used to hire someone company.”
“Hiring a prostitute is exactly the opposite of what I want though,” Chay says. He’s a little frustrated that Milk doesn’t seem to get it. “In that scenario I’m paying someone to pretend to be attracted to me. I don’t want anyone to be with me because they feel obligated, I want to be wanted for being nothing more than myself.”
“And you think people will want you for the right reasons if you post sexy videos of yourself on the internet?”
“I think they won’t want me for the wrong reasons, and I feel like that’s all I can ask for right now.”
“Chay,” Milk says, and she leans in to force Chay to make eye contact with her, “You can always ask for more from people. Just because you haven’t gotten it before doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of being loved.”
Chay can’t break eye contact for one second, then two, but finally he does, turning to look out the window. “Who said anything about love?” His eyes definitely aren’t watering, but he accepts the tissue from Milk when she offers it anyway.
When Chay’s eighteenth birthday rolls around a few weeks later, all he asks Porsche for is good video equipment.
“I was thinking I might want to make YouTube videos of my guitar playing,” he says, looking at the worn cuffs of his sweatshirt instead of into his brother’s eyes. “Maybe some of my own songs…?”
A twinge of guilt shoots through his chest when Porsche looks thrilled. “You’re playing again?”
“Just a bit,” Chay doesn’t like to lie. “I’m trying to find more things I can do around here that aren’t moping or watching dramas with Tankhun.”
He’s playing into Porsche’s guilt over disrupting Chay’s normalcy, but he genuinely appreciates the long tight hug Porsche gives him right then, and also the many packages of fancy electronics that appear in his room a few weeks later.
He does end up recording himself playing guitar for the camera while he’s learning how to operate it. Arm gives him some initial setup help with the fancy new laptop powerful enough for video editing, and Tankhun teaches him about ring lights and the right way to angle a camera to get your best side.
He uploads a few music videos to his YouTube channel as practice. He gets to try his hand at video editing and learns a lot about good sound quality.
Kinn approaches him after he uploads his third video where he does an acoustic cover of the latest American bop Pete’s been humming under his breath for a few weeks. The sound quality is improving, but Chay thinks he needs to plan his recordings around the natural light streaming into his room.
“If you’re serious about this,” his brother’s boyfriend tells him, eyebrows serious, “I can get you in touch with some of the people who got Kim going.”
Chay’s eyebrows raise and Kinn rushes to say “Not that you’d have to interact with him at all. You’d be totally independent, but they could help with your socials and raising your viewer count.”
Chay gives Kinn a long look, trying not to let his face betray anything. He doesn’t know if Kinn knows anything about his sordid Kim history, Chay certainly hasn’t said anything. But it’s a genuinely nice offer if stardom had been Chay’s real goal. He lets his almost-brother-in-law have a nearly real smile.
“No thank you P’Kinn. I think this is just a fun hobby for me right now,” and he gives a little shrug, “I might not even keep up with it.”
Kinn takes a long pause before he speaks, just like Kim does right before he’s about to lie, but the way he’s searching Chay’s face makes Chay think he’s actually just trying to puzzle something out. Chay internally curses his brother for teaching Kinn their shared tells.
“Okay,” Kinn says eventually, “but anything you do want, you come to me. Alright? Or if anything is bothering you?”
Chay plasters on his most bashful smile, “you have every streaming service imaginable and there’s a personal chef at my beck and call twenty-four seven. What more could I want?”
“Plenty,” Kinn says, looking somehow even more concerned. “Porchay-“
Blessedly he’s cut off by Chan entering and telling Kinn it’s time for his next appointment. Kinn glances at Chay and back at Chan. This time Chay cuts him off.
“Thanks phi! Good luck with your meeting!” Then he scrambles away before Kinn can do something thoughtful like cancel his meeting to continue their conversation.
He’s nervous the first time he sits in front of his camera to record himself jerking off. Most of his own experience experimenting with sexuality has been a series of escalating embarrassing fanfic choices. People who write thai idol RPFs already know they’re writing to an incredibly niche population, they’re not afraid of making it weird.
That is to say, he knows about the mechanics of fingering, fucking, fisting, whatever, but it’s all purely theoretical. He figures most people who start camming on OnlyFans have had a little more experience than him, but he bets some people will get off on watching a virgin try things out.
“Hi,” he says to the camera when it starts rolling. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, and gives a little wave. It’s awkward and very him.
“Welcome to me, uh,” he stumbles right out of the gate, but he promised himself he wasn’t going to stop and start until he got it perfect. Perfection was the enemy of getting anything done. “Welcome to me jerking off for your entertainment! Well, I guess I don’t know that you’ll be entertained, but I hope you will be. At the very least I’ll be entertaining myself.”
He pulls off his shirt. He’s just wearing for the camera what he’s been wearing around the compound all day - an oversized t-shirt with a smiley face, and his jeans. He’s going for authenticity.
He feels like a fool. This is why Kim didn’t want to stick around, his brain betrays him, but he shoves his intrusive thoughts and pants aside.
When he’s down to his briefs he looks back up at the camera. “I’m not sure what the protocol here is,” he says, running his hands nervously through his hair and then letting his fingers naturally slide down his throat, then down his chest. “But I figure I’ll talk through what I’m doing.”
He lets his fingers run across the front of his underwear, touching lightly for now, but with increasing pressure with every pass.
“My thought with this channel is to try new things.” He leans one arm back to stabilize himself and show off his chest, to bring the viewer’s eyes down to where he’s starting to bulge. “Now jerking off isn’t new for me, but doing it for a camera is-”
His breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t expected to find it exciting yet, just softly touching himself, but here he is. Surprisingly hard, surprisingly quickly.
“The camera is different.” Chay gives said camera a shy grin. He thinks there’s a flush rising to his cheeks, but he has no way to tell. He makes a note to set up a monitor so he can watch himself.
With a deep breath he pulls himself out of his briefs, letting the elastic sit below his balls so that he’s on full display.
He starts to pump himself and can’t help but throw his head back exhaling, relieved to let himself sink into the sensation.
“Just this feels good,” he says for the camera’s benefit. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t be doing it.”
He pauses before continuing to run his thumb over the slit on the head, dragging down it roughly.
“Next time though, I’m going to get some lube to use. I’ve used lotion before, and that was good, but from what I hear lube is slicker and wetter.” He licks his palm at the mention of wet - what a good idea he commends himself. He makes sure to look directly into the camera as he licks up and down his palm, getting it nice and wet for himself. When he returns his hand to his cock he can’t help but let out a little whimper.
“Maybe the time after that I’ll try some tingling lube, or warming lube?” He closes his eyes as he lets his hand pick up the pace.
“And then with all that lube around I’ll have to try it all again when I finger myself. I’ve never done it before but I think it would feel good.” Chay bites his lip thinking about it. “I think I would be good at it.”
He lifts his weight off of the arm he’s been using to prop himself up, and lets that hand come up to tweak at his nipples. They’re already stiff, and it sends a little shock down his front when he pulls at them.
He’s open mouth panting now, letting himself get lost in his fantasies of things to come.
“I’ve always been curious about vibrators too, I have no concept of what that would feel like inside me, but I bet it’s mind blowing.”
“And of course, I’ll have to get myself a cock to fuck myself with. I’ll start small, but work myself up to something big.” He’s gasping every few words, he hadn’t thought it would be this hard to talk though. “Something I can,” he can hear how desperate and needy he is when he moans now, “bounce on and,” god he’s not lasting any longer than this, “ride hard.”
And then he comes all over fist, some of it landing halfway up his chest. He’s pretty pleased with the outcome. He has to take a moment to catch his breath before he addresses the camera again, but he doesn’t stop grinning through it all.
“Well,” Chay says, lifting his dirtied hand up, “here’s to trying new things.”
Then he licks his own come off his fingers.
He spends an afternoon draping himself over his bed in various levels of attire trying to get a good picture for his home page. Eventually he chooses one where he sprawled on his side, a tight white t-shirt rucked up to show off his belly, his jeans low on his hips with the fly open, the barest hint of a happy trail shadow peeking out from the top of his black briefs.
He doesn’t have the blue hair anymore, but Tankhun showed him how to get a soft curl in his hair, and how to smudge eyeshadow just at the edges of his eyes to make them look subtly deeper.
He has on a lip gloss one of his friends from school forgot to pack up when they were studying one day, and he’d tried it out of curiosity and then conveniently always forgotten to give it back. He likes the way it makes him look more enticingly kissable, even if no one has taken him up on it. Yet.
All of that to say - he looks hot. He feels hot. He felt hot making his first video, and he’d felt hot again watching it back.
He hadn’t been sure until he’d watched himself sucking on his own fingers that he would actually go through with posting it, but once the video finishes and then Chay finishes again, he knows he’s definitely going to post it, and he’s definitely going to do it again. Even if he’s the only one who appreciates it.
He uploads the video under the name ShamelessTeenageVirgin, then packs up his laptop to go to therapy.