Archive of Our Own

Not for the first time, Porsche wonders how he got here. Into this mess, this job, into this bed. He’s new to this, new to Kinn, new to men. He’s working it out, thinks he’s doing okay. If the way Kinn touches him, responds to his touch, is anything to go by, he can’t be doing too badly. But sometimes, just sometimes, he feels a little insecure. Sue him.

He’s seen first-hand Kinn’s type’ small and demure with pretty, pointed faces. Dainty, delicate. Not Porsche.

He knows that Kinn has feelings for him, is attracted to him. He knows this, has felt it. But he can’t help wondering if, just maybe, Kinn feels so strongly for him that he’s pushed aside his preferences. If he misses that – the mindless obedience, the pillow princesses, and expensive auras. That when he touches Porsche, slides his hand up his chest, flicking a nipple, some part of him wishes it were soft, smooth skin instead of lithely corded muscle. Or when they tangle together in the sheets and Porsche’s legs wrap around him, does he think about hairless flesh and supple thighs? Does the fight in his touch make Kinn recoil?

And he knows. He knows that he’s being absurd, but he can’t help it. And he can’t stop it from bleeding into their space when they leave an event and come face to face with one of Kinn’s old… acquaintances.

“Khun Kinn.” The boy wais, eyes zeroing in on the generous display of skin offered by Kinn’s casually buttoned shirt. “You look… well.”

Kinn nods, offering an effortless smirk. He’s all business. “And you.”

Porsche, a few paces behind them, tenses. He’s aware this is Kinn being polite, being The Heir. But something poisonous squirms beneath his skin, twisting in his gut. The other man Is polished, effeminate, wrists and fingers slender and pale as they reach out to touch Kinn’s arm. It takes everything in Porsche not to step between them. But that would be unprofessional. And he doesn’t need to give Big, Ken or Chan another reason to punish him. Or laugh at him.

He’s quiet, lost in his own head as thoughts of Kinn’s gun-calloused hands on flawless, airbrushed skin burrow their way into the most vulnerable cracks of his mind. He’s barely aware of what’s happening, outside of his automated checks of Kinn’s hall and rooms the moment they step inside. His gun is in his hand, his eyes sweeping the space and, seeing nothing, he halts.

The second his gun is returned to its proper place, Kinn is in his space. Porsche’s senses are overwhelmed by staggeringly expensive perfume and the solid warmth of the other man. He feels large hands on his biceps, drawing him closer, forcing him to look up. Kinn’s mouth is on his in seconds, hot and searching and soft. Too soft.

Porsche draws back, staring at him. There’s something burning behind Kinn’s gaze. He can’t be sure, but he almost thinks it’s… concern.

“Porsche.” His voice is gentle yet stern. Porsche doesn’t think he’s ready to face whatever this is, so he moves to kiss the other man again but Kinn holds him back.

“What?” He groans impatiently.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.” Kinn studies his face, searching. Porsche just hums, affirmative. “What’s bothering you?”

“Aside from you?” His attempt at brattish humour is met with one delightfully thick raised eyebrow.

“Porsche.”

“It’s nothing.” This time, he succeeds in kissing Kinn again, catching him in an open-mouthed kiss. The mafia heir is easily distracted, and it’s explosive; Kinn holding him close to his body, hands leaving searing heat down his body as they travel from his arms, over his shoulders, down his chest, before circling his waist and hitching him closer. Porsche can feel the want thrumming through the older man’s actions, and he can’t stop the desperate whine that escapes him. And he can’t stop Kinn from letting him go, gingerly holding him at a distance. Porsche’s pathetic little noise is repeated, and Kinn stares at him, wide-eyed.

“Porsche?”

“What now?” Heat rising to his face, Porsche tries for nonchalance but it doesn’t work.

“What’s going on?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.” He tears himself from Kinn’s grip, retreating further into the older man’s rooms. His face burns with embarrassment, and he hides it in his hands as he sits down heavily on the edge of Kinn’s bed, elbows on his knees.

He feels, more than hears, Kinn kneel on the ground in front of him, positioned between his thighs.

“Porsche.” His voice is a warning, laced with something akin to panic. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Baby, I need you to look at me.”

Porsche takes a shuddering breath, anger at himself taking over. “Can’t.”

“You can.” Kinn’s hands move to circle his wrists, tugging gently. “Look at me, Porsche.”

He fights it for a moment, but eventually lets Kinn win. He lets his eyes dart to the other man; his lover’s eyes are wide, searching, confused. Like he doesn’t know what’s happening. That makes two of them.

“Porsche…”

“Kinn.” His voice sounds rough, even to his own ears, and he lets his gaze flick toward the bedside table, catching the wall switch that operates the curtains and black-out blinds. Suddenly, Porsche is all too aware of where they are, of the time he’d walked in on Kinn and one of his hired friends. They had been so soft, so small, so ready to give Kinn whatever he wanted. He lets out a frustrated little wounded sound, and Kinn’s hands are on his face in a flash, gently guiding him back. They stare at each other, Porsche’s eyes glassy and Kinn’s rapidly becoming more and more panicked.

“Porsche, baby. Talk to me.”

And Porsche knows he should, knows he needs to. This silence isn’t helping either of them. He wants to say so many things, wants to be eloquent and use his words, make Kinn understand that he’s just in his own head, that he knows Kinn is into him, wants him. But that’s not what comes out of his mouth. Instead, he says:

“I’m not your type.”

Kinn is struck dumb for a moment, hands falling from Porsche’s face to his own lap. His mouth opens as if to say something, then snaps shut again. He stares at the younger man, silence passing between them for what feels like forever. Then.

“Porsche.” Kinn’s voice is dark, raw and ragged around the edges. “Say that again.”

Porsche squirms, eyes fixed on the ceiling. It’s easier to talk when he’s not staring directly at the intensity that is Kinn. “I’m not your type. I’m not… I’m not what you like.”

Suddenly, there’s a vicelike hand on his jaw, forcing his head down. Hesitantly, he meets Kinn’s furious gaze.

“Porsche, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m not… I’m not soft, or feminine, or delicate, or expensive. I’m not small, I’ve got body hair, I don’t… I don’t look like them.” He finishes on a trembling whisper.

“Like who?”

“Like… the boys you used to have up here.”

Kinn makes a wounded noise, the hand on his face slipping down to cup his neck, dragging him down, closer. Porsche’s chest clenches as he feels Kinn’s breath on his lips.

“Kinn-“ he’s cut off by the other man’s expression, unbridled rage simmering just beneath the surface. He doesn’t think it’s directed at him though.

“Porsche,” he orders. “Shut up.”

“Ai’Kinn, I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up. Is this what you’ve been thinking about?”

He nods reluctantly.

“You think, because you don’t look like them, you think I don’t want you?”

“No, I-I know you want me.” Something settles in Kinn’s gaze. Until he continues. “Sometimes I just think… maybe you’d like me more if I had that kind of body, or that kind of attitude.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” Porsche stares at him, utterly baffled.

Kinn squeezes the back of Porsche’s neck possessively, and that’s when he feels it, the shifting tension in the room, like Kinn has finally figured out a way to help.

“Take. Them. Off.”

Porsche rises, peeling back the layers of his uniform until he’s left naked, standing before Kinn’s fully dressed, still kneeling form. He’s never been shy about his body, never felt self-conscious about himself, but after their conversation, the weight of Kinn’s eyes on him has him shifting nervously.

“Now what?”

“Now,” Kinn begins, slowly getting to his feet. “Now, Porsche, I am going to show you what an idiot you are.”

“Ai’Kinn.” Porsche complains, but neither of them miss the way Porsche’s soft cock begins to fill.

“As if I could want anything else, when I have you.” Rough hands track gentle paths up his arms, curling around his shoulders, tracing the shape of his collarbones.

Porsche lets out a shaky breath, his own hands reaching out to grip Kinn’s jacket.

“As if I want soft, smooth nothingness, when I have this,” his fingers dance across his well-defined pecs, making him gasp. “And this.” This touch is firmer, a sharp tweak of his nipple, and Porsche jerks with sensitivity.

“K-Kinn, please…”

“The way you move, just for me, the sounds you make. Nothing compares.” Porsche can’t help the way he shudders when Kinn’s hands map out the firm muscle of his abs, teasing at his hips.

“Kinn.” He’s helpless to say or do anything else, vulnerability leaving him entirely at Kinn’s mercy in the best way possible.

“Porsche.” He cherishes the soft smile on Kinn’s lips, before he finds himself shoved roughly backwards. Kinn follows quickly, still clothed, kneeling between Porsche’s splayed legs. “Let me show you how much I adore you.”

Afterwards, Kinn’s hand is rough on his spent cock, causing his body to twitch as little sparks flash through him. He doesn’t let go until Porsche is squirming, overstimulated whimpers escaping him.

“K-Kinn…”

“Shhh, love. I’ve got you.” The older man lets go, just watching Porsche spread out on expensive white sheets.

To be so bone-tired, fucked so well, and to not have Kinn in his space, makes him whine petulantly. “C’mere.”

Kinn snorts, but his expression is open and fond as he ducks down to wrap himself around Porsche’s boneless body. The bodyguard lets himself be manoeuvred until he’s nestled against Kinn’s warm chest, steady heartbeat thrumming beneath his ear. He hums in satisfaction.

He lets exhaustion overcome him, nearly lulled to sleep, when Kinn’s gentle hand in his hair stills.

“You know I want you, right, Porsche?”

“Of course I do.” He flushes, previous embarrassment rising to the surface.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” Kinn’s voice is low and soft, like he’s sharing a secret that no-one’s ever heard before. And, well, knowing what Porsche does about Korn, he probably hasn’t.

“You never make me doubt it.”

“Then… why?” Kinn is at a loss for words, clearly still not understanding the situation.

Porsche considers his words carefully, not wanting to upset their quiet bubble.

“Y’know how sometimes… you think something, and then you can’t let it go?”

“Mrm.”

“It’s just that.”

“Hrm?”

“I’ve never been with a man before.”

“Porsche-“ Kinn goes tense beneath him.

“Shh,” the younger man cuts him off. “Let me finish.”

He makes a disgruntled noise, still still, but doesn’t speak again. Porsche is grateful.

“I’m really new to… this.” He gestures weakly at the bed around him. “And I’m new to being with men, figuring out what I like about them, their bodies. Except, of course, you.” Porsche shifts and props himself up on an elbow, staring into Kinn’s concerned face. “I know I like you, like your body, the way you move for me, the sounds you make.” He grins. “Your giant tits.”

Kinn laughs shortly, one hand moving to squeeze Porsche’s bare ass more in play than intent.

“But this is not new for you,” he continues. “You’ve known what you like for a really long time. I’ve seen them all, and they have a lot in common. And I don’t.”

Kinn hums thoughtfully, considering this new information. “I see.”

“And so… I don’t know. I just got in my head, wondering if you miss being with them. Or at least, wished I were more like them.”

Kinn’s grip on him turns from soft to possessive in an instant.

“Never.”

“… Why?” It feels silly, to be voicing these insecurities after what they’d just done, but Porsche needs to hear it.

“Because, Porsche, my love. I’m so fucking into you.”

“Ai’Kinn.” He laughs, head pressed to the pillow. It’s rare for Kinn to be so open about his feelings.

“No, listen.” Kinn strokes a thumb over his flushed cheek. “I have never felt this way about anyone. Not in my heart, not in my soul, and certainly not in my body. I’ve never been so horny all the time.” He emphasises this with a quick ass squeeze that has Porsche squeaking, and his own cock twitching valiantly.

“I may have… a type, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why not?” Porsche gazes down at Kinn, taking in the proud features of his face, the quirk of his lips, the sincerity in his dark eyes.

“Because now I have you. And you are everything I’ve always wanted and never knew I needed. Your golden skin, your lean muscle, your tempting waist.” Kinn’s smile turns wicked. “Your tiny cock. Every inch of you was made to be mine, made to be my perfect fantasy. I can’t breathe when I’m near you, but at the same time, I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone.”

Porsche himself can’t breathe for a moment, knocked off-centre by his lover’s words. “… Okay.”

“If you doubt my intentions again, doubt how much I want you, I might need to punish you.”

“…”  The thought of Kinn seeing his insecurities and fucking him, holding him down until he can’t think of anything except how much Kinn wants him… it’s not bad. Kinn clocks him instantly.

“Oh? You’d like that?”

Porsche can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, warmth blooming down his spine, settling low in his belly despite the very satisfying bone-deep ache he already feels.

Kinn’s gaze immediately softens, reaching out to cup the younger man’s face. “There you are.”

Porsche’s breath hitches, suddenly overcome. He lets himself press into the touch, lips brushing Kinn’s palm.

“Sorry.” He kisses the skin, then catches Kinn’s hand in his own bringing it close to his heart.

“Don’t be,” the older man murmurs. “I’m sorry for not telling you enough.”

“You tell me plenty.” Porsche laughs, pushing Kinn back into the pillows, following him down but never letting go of his hand. “I’m just too stubborn to hear it.”

Kinn growls playfully, but his arms squeeze around Porsche possessively. “I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

The hand not held hostage by Porsche slips gently down Porsche’s tanned skin, leaving goosebumps down his spine, until he presses between Porsche’s legs, where he’s still wet and open and hot.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Porsche chokes on a whine when he feels Kinn’s cock twitch against his hip. Even just this, the fierceness with which Kinn holds him, the way his body reacts to Porsche’s every move. He’s never felt more desired in his life. It’s almost frightening, the way his whole body burns with it.

“You want me?” The insecurity is gone from his tone now, replaced with raw heat and good humour, teasing.

Kinn bites at his neck, affectionate, bordering on possessive. “Always.”