Chapter Text
They were taken from the docks in the dead quiet of night. There was no one around, not a single soul to witness their abduction, not that it would have mattered if there were. People around here knew better than to meddle in mafia business.
The struggle had been short; Porsche had kicked one of the goons down and Kinn had broken the arm of another who tried to grab him with a hard jab, but then they had both been forced to halt. A gun to the back of Porsche’s head would do that.
“Enough,” Kinn said. He raised his hands, eyes fixed on Porsche, and Porsche on him. Those deep brown depths were burning with rage. “We surrender.”
He didn't recognise the group, their accents, or the information they let slip when they thought he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t see through the mesh bag over his head, but he paid attention to the direction they traveled anyway– south from the docks, down a few streets, each growing dimmer as the streetlamps faded away. They were pushed into a car parked down a back alley, and driven off somewhere east. The opposite direction to the family headquarters, and any hope of help.
No one knew where they were, Kinn had made sure of that. He had wanted his date with Porsche to go perfectly, and that meant remaining undisturbed, so he had made sure his bodyguards were busy elsewhere, none of them completely sure where Kinn might be. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, the perfect way to guarantee them privacy, but Kinn was starting to regret it now.
He felt Porsche beside him, rigid with tension and similarly tied with his hands behind his back, a hood over his head. Kinn tried to lean his weight against him, to somehow reassure him, but a boot to his gut stopped that. They were being closely watched, and interacting was not allowed.
Kinn tried not to let panic rise up inside him. He knew their situation was bad, he knew they were in very real danger right now, but he reassured himself that he had gotten out of worse situations before. Porsche would be an asset– he was Kinn’s head bodyguard for a reason, after all– the two of them would be able to figure it out. It was just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity, the right moment to strike.
The car drove for half an hour before the roads beneath them turned from smooth tarmac to gravel and dirt. Kinn felt like a raggedy doll being tossed about in the backseat, unable to predict the next abrupt turn without his sight, and unable to stop himself from bashing into this and that with his hands so firmly tied behind his back. The jostling provided one benefit, however.
He had followed his instincts and his training the second the binds had appeared and his hands were pinned behind him, tensing and bunching his muscles as much as possible without being too obvious. He was appreciating his efforts now– the rope was ever so slightly slack against his wrists instead of being mercilessly tight, as it had been intended. It gave him just enough freedom to start rubbing his wrists together in time with the cars bouncing, and, using that friction, start gently teasing at the knot. It wouldn’t be easy, he could already feel how tightly the knot had been tied, but it was worth a chance. Kinn wouldn’t just sit and do nothing.
He wondered what Porsche must have been feeling. It wasn’t the first, nor even the second time Porsche had been abducted, a bag shoved over his head and dragged off to some unknown fate. It was beginning to become a recurring thing, and that bothered Kinn. Once was fair enough, especially when it had been on Kinn’s orders. Twice was an insult to injury, beyond the edge of what Kinn would allow anyone to get away with and live. But three times?
One way or another, someone was going to die tonight. That much, Kinn was certain of.
It was the worst possible ending to what had been such a good day, a day filled with Porsche’s smiles and domesticity the likes Kinn had thought he’d never be allowed, even in his most pathetically whimsical dreams. He’d become swept away in it, losing himself in Porsche’s company. He’d let himself become careless, in the totality of his happiness. Now he was paying for his mistake.
The car rolled to a stop and the door slammed open a second before hands started grabbing at Kinn’s clothing and dragging him down. He heard Porsche swearing beside him, and the two of them were bodily maneuvered out of the van and onto their feet. Porsche’s swearing didn’t let up, turning creative enough to make a sailor blush as they were marched along, still blind, out of reach of each other. Kinn was shoved with the barrel of a gun when he didn’t move fast enough, and he heard one crack over Porsche’s skull when he likely did the same.
Kinn felt the air change as they moved inside a building, heard the sound of doors opening and closing as he was pushed through them. Porsche’s voice grew fainter, and that worried him, but anytime he tried to stop or slow down there was that gun again, forcing him onwards. Eventually he was stopped and, rather abruptly, the mesh bag was ripped off his head. It took him two seconds to completely analyze the layout of the room around him. It was a large warehouse space with high ceilings and metal walls, strewn with debris and old shipping containers, looking thoroughly dilapidated and abandoned. By the amount of greenery growing through the windows and floor, Kinn could tell they were somewhere far from civilization. Far from where they could be heard, or where help might think to find them.
He was pushed down and for a moment he thought he would fall to the ground before he felt the rough surface of a chair underneath him. He considered pushing off of it and kicking the man manhandling him around, but a survey of the number of men in the room put that thought quickly to rest. Incapacitated, there was no way he could take down all five of them. He would have to keep waiting for his chance.
Kinn scowled as his arms were maneuvered behind the chair to where a length of chain and a metal cuff lay waiting to attach to the rope around his wrists. He was silently grateful the chain wasn’t used directly on his wrists– an amateur mistake by his captors, but one Kinn wasn’t about to point out. A gun was leveled directly at his face, brokering no argument, leaving Kinn no choice but to let himself be restrained to the chair. For a heartstopping moment, Kinn thought the man who knelt to attach the cuff would notice his work loosening the binds, but, luckily, the man performed his task and moved away. If he’d been one of Kinn’s men he’d have had him shot for his incompetence. As it was, Kinn could only be grateful that he was lazy, and had given Kinn a window of opportunity to exploit.
Kinn’s attention was drawn to the door as a commotion started up from beyond. He heard Porsche’s voice, still shouting and struggling, to Kinn’s relief, before he saw him shoved into the room by two men who had to physically lift him when his dragging feet stalled their progress. He put up one hell of a fight as he was tied to the chair, earning himself more than a few blows in retribution. Porsche would not be cowed so easily, Kinn had firsthand experience.
Once Porsche was secured, and his struggles died down, Kinn turned to the man who he’d easily been able to identify as the leader, from the way he prowled domineeringly across the room. He didn’t fail to note the gun hanging at the man’s side.
“What do you want?”
The man sneered, rounding on him and pressing his gun against Kinn’s temple. Kinn didn’t flinch, not even when the man smirked, showing his ugly yellow teeth, and then drew the weapon back to strike him across the face. It was a hell of a blow, so hard it made Kinn’s ears ring and his eyes water. He could already feel his lip swelling and the taste of blood from where it had split.
“ Hey !” Porsche shouted, and there was the sound of a grunt as he kicked someone. “Hey, fucker, try it aga—” The rest of his sentence was muffled by a punch.
Composing himself, Kinn spat the blood filling his mouth at the floor. His eyes flicked over to Porsche, seeing him slumped forward on the chair he was equally bound to, shaking his head in the aftermath of a blow. Satisfied that he was alright, as much as he could be, at least, Kinn returned his attention to the leader, leveling him with an unimpressed glare. He was rewarded with a deepened snarl.
“What we want,” the man sneered, “Is some revenge.”
Kinn’s eyebrows crept up his forehead. “Revenge?”
The man hit him again, a glancing punch to his temple that made Kinn’s vision blacken at the edges. Had he not been shackled to the chair, he might have been knocked off it, such was the force behind the blow. A throbbing started behind his eyes, but he ignored the pain and rightened himself, showing no sign of weakness. He had been taught to withstand torture worse than this.
The man cackled, wheeling around himself, smiling maniacally at his men as they laughed and egged him on. He was clearly on edge, perhaps even on drugs. That made him infinitely more dangerous.
“Yes, some fucking revenge!” He crowed, his men’s voice rising in chorus with him. “We’re gonna make you and your precious fucking family pay for driving us out of our turf, Mr. Theerapanyakul.” He grinned, something sinister that made Kinn’s skin crawl. “Starting where it's gonna hurt the worst.”
For a moment Kinn didn’t understand. Then, the leader turned on Porsche, and his meaning sunk in with the weight of a stone dropping to the bottom of Kinn’s stomach.
“No,” he said.
The man’s smirk widened. “Oh, yes .”
Porsche was looking between Kinn and the man with a nervous edge to his expression. When the man turned and advanced on him he kicked his leg out to stop him, something Kinn had seen him do before, but this time it was to no avail. Kinn heard, distantly, the sound of his own chair creaking as he strained against it, body moving on its own accord, as Porsche’s legs were seized by two lackeys and held down, despite how wildly he thrashed and fought. Two pieces of rope were produced and Porsche’s eyes widened when he saw them, his struggling increased, but he could do nothing as his ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. When the men stepped away he was left utterly immobile, and by the hint of fear that Kinn saw in his eyes, Porsche knew it.
Kinn felt his jaw clench. He felt his hands curl into white knuckled fists, felt sharp, burning pain at his wrists as he pulled so hard against the ropes that they cut into his skin. His blood rushed so loudly in his ears that it drowned out everything else. He tasted his own blood in his mouth, sharp and acrid and tinged with bitter hate.
“If you have notions of revenge against my family,” Kinn ground out, forcing his voice to remain as level as possible. “Then you should not waste your time with the bodyguard.”
The leader scoffed. He meandered his way, casual and arrogant, over to stand behind Porsche’s chair, his every step making Kinn’s gut clench tighter. Porsche tried to turn his head to keep the man in his sights, but the man grabbed his chin and jerked it roughly back to center, forcing him to look at Kinn with dirty fingernails digging into his smooth, brown cheeks.
Porsche looked ready to bite him. “ Fuck off –”
A hand clasped over his mouth, cutting him off. Porsche jerked his shoulders, trying to throw the man off of him, but he wasn’t successful. He was too tightly bound for that.
“I think you and I both know he’s a bit more than that. Right?”
Kinn felt his lips curl in a snarl as the man’s hand dropped to Porsche’s shoulder, resting there only a moment before his palm suddenly flattened against Porsche’s skin and started to travel down. Porsche looked at Kinn, eyes wide and confused, as the man’s hand dipped under the material of his shirt. He made a soft, distressed sound when the man found his nipple under the material.
The chair creaked so loudly it echoed in the old warehouse, such was the force with which Kinn pulled against his bonds. He stamped his foot on the ground to get the man’s attention, to make him stop, to take his hands off Porsche. Kinn would kill him, for that .
"Stop!"
“Not just a bodyguard, I think,” the man chuckled. He did something to Porsche under the shirt that made him squeeze his eyes shut and give his head a little, terrified shake, his body jerking like a taut string being plucked.
“Enough!” Kinn roared, his throat raw. The chair skidded on the ground when he threw his body forward. “What the fuck do you want?”
The man touching Porsche only laughed, and bent low over his tied body, his ugly face level with Porsche’s ear. “I want to take what’s yours, Kinn Theerapunyakul.”
Then he pressed his nose against Porsche’s hair and sniffed, exaggeratedly loud, making a filthy sound to the amusement of his men. Porsche jerked away from him and, before the man could react, slammed his forehead into the man’s temple with a crack so loud Kinn could hear it across the room. Kinn felt his lips twitch in amused pride, despite the situation. Despite how fucked they both were.
“Go fuck yourself you–”
Kinn swore, violently, and renewed his covert attempts to loosen his bonds when the man rounded on Porsche, eyes wild with anger, and backhanded him across the face so hard it snapped Porsche’s head to the side. He grabbed a hold of Porsche’s hair, yanking at the black strands so roughly that Porsche cried out in pain, and ripped his head back. Kinn’s heart stopped in his chest when a knife appeared in the man’s hand. The long column of Porsche’s throat was exposed, bobbing as he swallowed, and the knife was pressed against it, the silver of the metal gleaming in the dim light of the warehouse.
“Stop,” Kinn said, his voice threatening to crack. “Whatever you want I’ll make it happen. Drugs, money, guns–”
“I don’t want your fucking promises!” The man shouted over him. He kept the knife pressed firmly to Porsche’s throat, so hard that a red line was beginning to appear against his skin. “Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll give him another pretty smile.”
Porsche’s eyes met Kinn’s down his lashes, and Kinn’s chest ached at the fear he saw in them. Porsche was beginning to realize the helplessness of the situation, that he wouldn’t be able to bullheadedly charge his way out of this one, not this time. The realization seemed to almost surprise him, like he expected at any moment that someone would call off this sick joke, or the other bodyguards would come crashing through the door to save them. But they wouldn’t. There was no help coming, and it made Porsche look, for the first time in Kinn’s growing experience, afraid.
The chair creaked again, as Kinn pulled against it. He couldn’t help it. His every instinct was screaming at him to get to Porsche.
The man trailed the knife down Porsche’s throat, all the way down until he reached his chest and shirt. He made little effort in slicing a long stripe down the fabric, exposing Porsche from collarbones to navel, making Porsche’s body jerk like the cut had been in his skin. The man pushed the fabric aside with the tip of the knife and, with an expression on his face that Kinn wanted to beat bloody, he circled one of Porsche’s nipples with the blade.
“No wonder Mr. Kinn likes you so much,” the man drawled, just loud enough for Kinn to hear. “Such a pretty body.”
He leered at Porsche and Kinn wanted to rip his eyeballs out of his skull. He wanted to beat the man’s face in with his fists until his own bones splintered and broke. He pulled against his bonds and felt his heart jolt as he felt the smallest amount of give under the pressure; the knot was starting to come loose. Trying to focus on that and nothing else, Kinn kept wiggling his hands against the loosening tie. He felt his right thumb start to slip free, just enough that he could get a firmer grip on the knot and tug at where it tangled. The taut material started to slide.
It wasn’t fast enough.
The man had pulled the tattered remnants of Porsche’s shirt off his shoulders and was still tracing the blade across his chest in an equal torment and threat. He gestured to his men and they came forward, untying Porsche from the chair, and holding him tightly when he started to struggle.
“What are you doing?” Kinn barked.
The man shot him a look over his shoulder that dripped with satisfaction. “I’ll be taking the young bodyguard here for a closer inspection in my personal quarters,” he said. “As fun as it would be letting you watch… Making you listen and imagine sounds so much sweeter.”
The man’s lackeys started to drag Porsche out of the room, heedless of the way he twisted and threw himself against their grip. He was a wild thing, unhinged, even when the threat of the knife loomed in front of him. His eyes met Kinn’s and every emotion behind them was so strong, so raw, that Kinn’s breath caught.
“Kinn!”
Kinn felt something inside himself crack.
“ Kinn!”
The raw panic in Porsche’s voice shattered him.
The boss’ laugh rang hollow in Kinn’s ears as he and Porsche and the men carrying him disappeared beyond the warehouse door, slamming it shut behind them. For a long, unending moment, Kinn felt rage unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life. It settled over him like sinking deep in water, and he let it overwhelm him. It choked him, thicker than the taste of blood, making him feel almost dizzy as red flickered at the corners of his vision. His jaw ached from how hard he was crushing his teeth together, his lips twitched where they pulled back in a snarl.
He didn’t feel the pain when he ripped his arms apart and snapped the rope tie clean off, he didn’t feel the weight of the chair in his hands as he picked it up and swung it around, smashing it hard into the nearest man’s body and sending him crumpling to the floor with a sickening crunch. He didn’t feel anything at all but the rush of blood in his ears that was so very hungry for more.
There were five men left in the room; one on the floor, four to go.
Kinn rounded on the next and grabbed his gun out of his hand as the man fumbled to raise it. He kicked him in the groin and smashed his face down against his knee, a spurt of blood wetting his pants from the man's instantly broken nose. He was already dropping him and turning to the next. He batted the raised weapon out of his face and smashed his own across the man’s jaw, so hard he heard a distinct crack from the weapon making contact. He kicked his shin, for good measure, sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell, deathly limp. The next man came for him and the blow caught Kinn in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it. Without hesitating, he channeled the inertia of letting himself be knocked back and, without breaking momentum, swung his elbow up and drove it into the man’s chin. The thick, meaty sound that the connection made was nauseating, but the man dropped. That was all that mattered.
The last man nearly managed to get off a shot before Kinn was able to drive his foot into the man's chest and kick him back enough to knock the weapon loose from his grip. Kinn grabbed a hold of the chair again, the nearest blunt object to hand, and swung it in a wild arc that connected with a meaty thunk.
“Mercy!” The man gasped, collapsing to his knees with the pain of his injuries. “Mercy!”
Kinn sneered down at him, holding the chair raised. “Unfortunately for you,” he snarled, “My mercy just left.”
He beat the man to a bloody pulp, smashing the chair down on his limp body again and again and again until the wood splintered, slick with blood, and the chair crumbled apart. There was very little left of either by the time Kinn was done.
Kinn felt distinctly aware of how blood soaked his act of brutality had left him, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He was already finding the nearest gun, cocking the barrel back to check the chamber, and stalking towards the door that Porsche had disappeared through.
He followed the sounds of struggling down several hallways and closed doors, his heart pounding in his chest every step he took closer. He needed to get there quickly but his gut clenched with the thought of what he might find.
If he was too late.
He found the right room, finally, from the sounds of shouting and grunting were clear from inside, the sound of Porsche still fighting, no matter how hopeless– and backed himself against it to one side of the door’s glass window, half obscured by a drape. He peeked through it and could see into the room beyond, dimly lit as it was by only a desk lamp in the corner. The only other furniture was a dilapidated table and a rickety old trundle bed. A bed where Kinn could see the writhing mass of Porsche’s body, held down by one of the men who’d dragged him away, his bound hands trapped underneath him. The other man was standing by the foot of the bed, sitting on Porsche’s foot while his hands were fiddling with the buckle of his belt, like he meant to take it off. And it was obvious why.
The leader was straddling Porsche’s waist. He was on top of Porsche, pinning him down with his weight, stretched out over his naked torso. Kinn’s blood rushed in his ears as his eyes travelled down and saw the man’s bare cock rutting against Porsche’s abs. His hands were on Porsche’s chest, pinching his nipples so hard that Porsche’s face was twisted in pain. His mouth was on Porsche’s neck. His teeth were buried in his flesh.
Kinn didn’t think.
His concern for his own life was the furthest thing from his mind when he kicked open the door and fired twice in quick succession, nailing the man holding Porsche down square in the forehead and the one at the foot of the bed in the center of his chest. They both dropped to the floor, dead.
And then Kinn rounded on the last.
The man was sitting up and fumbling for his knife, but before Kinn could fire, Porsche suddenly bucked and smashed his forehead into the man’s temple with a guttural cry. Kinn swore, finger twitching away from the trigger, having nearly fired at the moment Porsche’s head was in his sights instead of his intended target. He would have killed him.
Porsche nearly succeeded in bucking him off, but the man was able to catch himself at the last moment. They began to struggle wildly, too wildly for Kinn to aim accurately. He started forward, ready to throw the man off Porsche but stopped short when something glinted in the corner of his eye. Kinn’s heart stopped.
In the struggle, the man had found the knife.
In a moment, the man had the knife turned on Porsche, but he didn’t go for the throat, not this time. Now that the man was sitting up Kinn could see that he’d unfastened Porsche’s jeans at some point, and this was where he brought the knife instead, to press against the outline of Porsche’s cock through the thin material of his briefs. Porsche went deathly still, and the man on top of him smiled.
“You move, Theerapunyakul,” he spat, lips bloody where Porsche’s forehead had split them, “And you’ll be taking one less piece of him with you.”
Kinn’s eyes narrowed. His hands tightened on the gun.
“Kinn–”
“Shut the fuck up!” The leader barked at Porsche, digging the knife in hard enough that Porsche hissed and cowed away from him.
The crazed man looked at Kinn, at the barrel of the gun staring him down. There was the spark of insanity in his eyes, but Kinn saw something else, too. He saw the fear. He smelt it. It was like a rush, a drug, something familiar and dark and dangerous, and it settled inside him like an old friend. He knew it better than he knew any other part of himself– or at least, he had.
Because with Porsche, things weren’t that simple any more.
Nothing was more important than Porsche.
“You touch him,” Kinn said quietly, dangerously, “And I promise you, I will take my time killing you. I’ll make it slow and agonizing and unending. I will make you long for something as sweet as death.”
The man’s hand was quivering around the hilt of the dagger, but he didn’t back down. He used Porsche like a shield as he pulled him up and moved them both off the bed, keeping his arm tight around Porsche’s neck and the dagger pressed somewhere vital. He started to move towards the door and Porsche was forced to stumble along with him, his body rigid and unhelpful but moved all the same.
Porsche’s eyes never let Kinn’s. Despite the very present threat of the knife against his crotch, Porsche was looking at Kinn, and even though there was fear in his eyes, there was something else there too. Something that made Kinn’s chest ache.
Something like trust.
At least he thought it was trust, because then Porsche’s eyes flicked over to the man’s head. He thought it was trust when Porsche gave a small and subtle nod, and closed his eyes.
It wasn’t like the last time Kinn had done this. He hadn’t cared so much about Porsche’s life then, even if he had been certain he wouldn’t miss the apple. Now? Now, the thought of missing was intolerable.
So he couldn’t.
“Kinn,” Porsche said, when Kinn hesitated, his voice shaking. “Do it.”
Kinn looked at Porsche for a heart beat, at his absolute surrender, and a flicker of indecision flashed through him. But there was no choice. He would not let the man walk out of here with Porsche.
In the space between breaths he sized the man up, his jerky movements and his awkward passage to the door, and predicted where the bullet had to fly. When he exhaled, time slowed down around him, and the whole world came to a shuddering halt. He squeezed the trigger.
For a moment, nothing happened.
For a moment, Kinn thought he’d missed.
Then a trickle of blood ran down the man’s forehead from the tiny hole the bullet had left as it had embedded into his skull. The man blinked, once, almost surprised, and then his eyes glossed over, and his body went limp. He was dead before he hit the floor.
He was dead.
Kinn shuddered as he lowered the gun and tossed it to the side. His breath caught in his chest, exhilaration and adrenaline still pumping through him even now that the immediate danger was gone.
“Kinn…”
Porsche’s voice was strained, and it caused every one of Kinn’s senses to respond. He was at Porsche’s side in an instant, just in time to catch him as his knees gave out. He fell against Kinn’s chest, burying his face into Kinn’s neck, though his arms were still bound awkwardly behind him. Careful not to jostle him too much, Kinn pulled at the end of the rope until it began to unspool in his hands, letting Porsche's wrists finally fall free. In an instant, Porsche's hands were clutching tight wherever they could find purchase. He was trembling, so faintly that Kinn could only feel it where their bodies touched, but it was enough to betray how deeply shaken he was.
“Thank fuck you’re as good a shot as you think you are,” Porsche laughed against his skin, the sound forced and hollow and wretched.
Porsche’s hand was on Kinn’s arm, his nails digging in deep enough that Kinn could feel them shake. So, Kinn took hold of it, cradling the fingers he held so gently, and brought them to his lips. He kissed them, just a whisper of touch, and Porsche raised his head.
They looked at each other, and Kinn could finally breathe. He cupped Porsche’s neck and brought their foreheads together, pressing Porsche’s hand to his chest, to his heart, to let him feel it beat.
It beats for you, he didn’t say. He was never so good with words.
It’s yours.
Porsche shuddered against him. Gently, as quickly as he could, Kinn pulled his jeans back up and started to refasten them. Porsche’s brow furrowed at the touch, his hands curling into fists like he almost wanted to push Kinn away, but he kept his eyes on Kinn’s and, swallowing thickly, he let Kinn do it. When it was done, Kinn took off his overshirt and slung it over Porsche’s shoulders, pulling it around him like a protective layer, covering his bare chest.
“We need to move,” Kinn said. “There could be more coming.”
“Alright.”
Porsche’s knees were still weak, he took a stumbling step and nearly fell again before Kinn grabbed him and slung his arm over his shoulder. He held Porsche up and didn’t let him go as they began their faltering journey through the maze of hallways and to their freedom.
They found the outside blessedly deserted, when they finally escaped the warehouse. Kinn left Porsche propped up against an old barrel as he went to try and find a vehicle, striking gold when he turned around the back of the building and found two SUV’s, both with the keys still in the engine. He tossed one pair out into the night and used the other pair to turn on one of the cars, driving it over to Porsche, and helping him into the passenger side. Kinn didn’t fail to note how jumpy he was, how skittish. His eyes were too wide and darted around at the faintest sound, anticipating danger.
Setting his jaw, Kinn climbed into the driver's seat. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and they tore out of the gravel driveway of the abandoned warehouse, sending dust flying up in a plume behind them. Let it rest on the dead, Kinn thought, bitterly. Let them rot and gather dust long before they’re found.
Kinn retraced the journey he had remembered the vehicle that brought them to that forsaken place taking, and was grateful for his good memory when he noticed the sharp corner he’d been waiting for, almost impossible to see in the dark. The car jolted as it climbed up onto a tarmac road, an old and unlit stretch of forgotten highway, but it was better than the gravel and rocks of the driveway.
Kinn kept shooting glances at Porsche. Porsche was silent in the seat beside him, staring out of the window. He wasn’t shaking anymore, now he was just tense, a bowstring ready to snap. Kinn couldn’t read his face in the dark of the car, but he didn’t think he needed to, to know the expression that would be there.
Kinn drove for twenty minutes until he found a small side road, sheltered by a copse of trees, and parked the car there out of sight of the main road. He killed the engine and turned off the lights, plunging the car into darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust in the gloom, the night broken only by the light of the full moon and the stars twinkling overhead. As soon as they did, he turned to Porsche.
Porsche looked beautiful, bathed in moonlight. But, then, he was always beautiful. The most beautiful man Kinn had ever met.
“Porsche.”
Porsche ignored him, at first. His eyes were fixed out somewhere in the darkness, his whole body tilted away from Kinn in his seat, like he was trying to hide.
“ Porsche.”
Porsche jumped when Kinn’s hand slid over his, held protectively in his lap. For a moment Kinn thought he would pull away, but after a drawn out stillness, Porsche finally let his hand turn, letting Kinn’s palm slide against his, letting their fingers slot between each others’. Ever so slightly his body turned towards Kinn and his gaze fell to where their fingers entwined, moonlight reflecting in the corners of his warm brown eyes. His other hand traced over Kinn’s knuckles, the blood that was already starting to flake and dry there scratching against Kinn’s skin under the touch.
“You killed them,” Porsche said. A statement, a matter of fact. The truth.
“Yes.”
Porsche gave the smallest of laughs, a laugh full of bitterness and hate. “Good,” he said. “Saves me the trouble.”
It felt like Porsche had put a wall up between them and Kinn hated it. He wanted to tear it down and cross the divide and take Porsche in his arms and hold him. He wanted to damn all the rules and bite and kiss and fuck away any and all of the marks that that man and his filthy hands had left on Porsche’s body. He wanted to chase away the awful memory of it, the horrifying nightmare of experiencing it, for both of them. He wanted to protect Porsche from it, now, as he had failed to do when it had mattered most.
His hand cradled Porsche’s neck, fingertips digging tightly into his nape, thumb slotting into the groove beside his jaw that was made for him. He leant across the console of the car and pulled Porsche towards him, uncaring of the token resistance. He pressed their foreheads together and just let himself breathe in the moment. Breathe in Porsche, alive. Safe and alive .
“I’m sorry,” Kinn said, the admission almost too low to hear. “I’m sorry, Porsche.”
Porsche laughed, a whisper of breath against Kinn’s cheeks. He shook his head again, but there was no bitterness in it, now. “Don’t be.” He reached up and grabbed Kinn’s neck, in a mirror of Kinn’s own grip. His eyes were closed, the dark lashes brushing softly against his cheeks. “You did what you had to.”
Kinn clenched his jaw, his brow furrowing. His fingers tightened at Porsche’s nape, pulling him closer. “I’m not sorry for that,” he growled. And he wasn’t, not in the slightest. But what he was sorry for was so much harder to face. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry that he touched you,” Kinn admitted. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop him.”
Porsche breathed raggedly, clutching Kinn tighter. He shook his head slowly, just a gentle rock of his forehead against Kinn’s, the barest denial. “You did stop him,” Porsche said. His hand twinned harder around Kinn’s, the other slotting between strands of Kinn’s hair to hold him close. “You stopped them all.”
But he hadn’t, not completely. He hadn’t been in time to stop that man pressing his body, his cock, against Porsche and touching him in ways that no one was ever, ever allowed to touch him. He hadn’t been in time to save Porsche from that.
That man would have raped him, and probably the rest of them would have too. They would have tortured him, broken him, used him again and again until there was nothing left of him, as a message to Kinn. Because of Kinn.
Kinn tasted anger and regret and bitterness so thick he could hardly breathe for it. He wanted to scream, wanted to rage and rail against the world, wanted to break it apart with his fists until he was bloody and sated. He wanted to kill.
“Kinn?”
Porsche squeezed his hand tighter, and suddenly all that rage and anger and hate was gone, turned instead into want for Porsche so desperate and violent that it felt like he would crawl out of his own skin. He needed him, needed to hold his body and re-stake his claim on his flesh, erase the marks that that man had tried to leave there and replace them with his own, so Porsche would know exactly who his body belonged to.
It belonged to Kinn. He belonged to Kinn.
He pulled Porsche, grabbing him by the overshirt and manhandling him over the middle console, dragging him into his lap and holding his body tight against his own. He wrapped his arms around Porsche’s waist, not letting an inch of space between them, and rested his cheek against Porsche’s chest to hear the beating of his heart, now picking up in pace.
“You are mine,” he growled against Porsche’s skin, and felt the other man shudder. “You are mine .”
He turned his head and pressed hard kisses to Porsche’s chest, dragging his bottom lip in a searing trail across his skin. He bit down, suddenly, making Porsche gasp and rock his body against him. His hands held onto Kinn’s shoulders, fingernails digging in.
“I don’t want to feel him on me anymore,” Porsche breathed. He rocked his body against Kinn’s. “I want to feel you.”
Kinn’s eyes flashed, a possessive fire ignited within him. He gripped Porsche’s throat and dragged him down, kissing him hard and fast and dirty and deep. He claimed him with lips and tongue and teeth, and Porsche let him. He opened his mouth and let Kinn lick inside. He gasped and smiled and breathed heavily, and let Kinn ravish him
Kinn’s hands dropped from his waist to his ass and he grabbed a firm hold of it, pulling it down against him as he rocked his hips up, letting Porsche feel his growing hardness. Just the taste of Porsche was enough to stir him.
“Kinn,” Porsche moaned, letting his head fall back.
The long column of his golden throat was more temptation than Kinn could bear. He kissed a fiery trail down Porsche’s cheek, his jaw, and finally his neck, where he found the sensitive spot of his jugular and bit down. Porsche moaned louder, so Kinn bit harder.
It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. Kinn needed more.
Porsche’s hands were slipping down the back of his shirt, desperate to feel Kinn’s skin. His fingernails dug into the muscles that bunched there, leaving crescent shaped indents. Wanting more, Kinn grabbed a hold of the hem of it and pulled it off in a smooth motion. Porsche fell upon him ravenously, his lips searing against Kinn’s neck, his collarbone, his chest, his hands mapping out over every inch of Kinn’s torso like a man possessed.
Kinn ran his hands through Porsche’s hair, the feeling of the soft strands heaven between his fingers, before he yanked sudden and harsh, pulling Porsche’s head back in an arch that exposed his throat. Porsche groaned, a sound that made Kinn’s cock throb. He bit again at Porsche’s Adam’s Apple as it bobbed on a swallow.
He found the place on the side of Porsche’s neck where the man had left his mark. Bitter hate flooded through him, and his expression darkened, as he remembered the man stretched out over Porsche’s body, rutting against him like a fucking animal. He slid his mouth over that place and bit down hard enough to make Porsche keen. He worried the flesh between his teeth and sucked, drawing blood to the surface and leaving a red welt there that would last days. By the time he was done, there was no trace left on Porsche’s body of anyone but Kinn. The way it should be.
“Fuck, yes,” Porsche gasped. “More. I want to feel you.”
Kinn ripped the overshirt off Porsche’s shoulders and raked his nails down his exposed back, surging forward to kiss him again. He would never get enough of the taste of him, never get enough of the feeling of those soft lips parting under his own, moving against him with the kind of want that made Kinn feel hot all over. He moaned into Porsche’s mouth when he felt teasing fingers at his nipples, flicking the sensitive bud in the way that Porsche always did. Porsche smirked, nipping at Kinn’s lower lip.
In retaliation, Kinn grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed hard, making Porsche jerk against him. Kinn could feel his cock now, pressing into his lower belly, and it was hard. Fuck, Kinn wanted to feel it, feel him, all of him. He wanted to be inside him, feel his tight body again, that slick heat that was like no other. His cock twitched, straining against his fly, aching for friction and pressure.
“You want me, huh?” He teased, voice low and gravelly. “How much of me?”
Porsche draped his arms over Kinn’s shoulders, kissing him deep. “All of you.”
Kinn’s hands were at Porsche’s fly in an instant, ripping the jeans open and shoving them down Porsche’s hips, low enough that his hands could grab a hold of Porsche’s bare ass. God it felt good, Porsche had an ass like a god. Kinn could never get enough of it. But Porsche’s cock jutting against his stomach was an acceptable enough distraction. He was thick, though not as big as Kinn, and the feeling of him in Kinn’s hand was exquisite. His silky soft flesh stretched down over the weeping red head of his cock as Kinn stroked him, and the sound he made was incredible. Kinn could listen to him pant and keen in pleasure for hours. He fully intended to, one day.
“Good boy,” Kinn purred as Porsche fucked into his hand, unable to help himself. “You like it when I touch you?”
“I fucking love it,” Porsche panted.
His hips picked up a stuttering pace and Kinn changed his grip, giving Porsche the perfect pressure to fuck into into. His body rolled in sinuous motion, hotter than anything Kinn had ever seen. The moonlight gleamed off of the hard planes of his chest, casting shadows of the dips and valleys of his muscles, and Kinn couldn’t help but run his free hand down them, feeling the evidence of Porsche’s strength and power. His muscles jumped when Kinn’s hand ran low over his stomach, tracing light fingertips over the sensitive area and making Porsche gasp.
Kinn kissed him again, plundering his mouth and taking back control of the rhythm. Porsche let him, giving his body to Kinn to pleasure with abandon. But Kinn felt when Porsche was close, his grip on Kinn starting to tense and the sinful sounds falling out of his mouth rising in pitch, and stopped.
“Fuck, don’t stop, please,” Porsche whined, unhappy with the sudden lack of grip around his cock. He tried to fuck against Kinn for some much needed pressure but found himself held utterly still by Kinn’s hard grip on his waist.
“Uh, uh, uh,” Kinn said. “You’ll get to come when I’m ready.”
“Bastard,” Porsche hissed. But he let Kinn kiss him again anyway.
While Porsche was distracted by the kiss, Kinn started to undo his own trousers. He pushed them just far enough down to let his cock free, by now so hard that it smacked against Porsche’s abs, making him look down. Kinn watched him look, transfixed by the heat in his eyes, the want, the hunger. Being wanted by Porsche was intoxicating.
“See how hard I am for you?” Kinn said, taking himself in hand and slowly stroking.
“Shut up.”
Kinn chuckled. He pulled Porsche closer against him and pressed their cocks together, his hand large enough to hold them both and squeeze and stroke. Porsche moaned, his forehead falling against Kinn’s and his eyes fluttering closed.
“Uh, uh.” Kinn took a hold of his chin and Porsche’s eyes opened. “I want you to watch.”
“ Fuck .” Porsche bit his lip, and Kinn felt something possessive curl in satisfaction inside him. “Kinn–”
“You feel so good.” Kinn twisted his hand at the head, making Porsche buck his hips. “I love your cock.”
“You’re obscene.”
Kinn squeezed them both hard, unwittingly groaning in pleasure himself as Porsche keened. It was so good, Porsche’s cock felt so good against his own, hot and hard and silky smooth. It was a bit dry, so he licked his palm and took them back in hand, Porsche still watching his every move, doing as he was told. It was still a heady thing, to have the stubborn brat follow his commands, all the sweeter for how seldom he did so, how hard the victory was earned. Tonight, it seemed he was giving himself to Kinn completely. Kinn intended to take him all.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “Say it.”
Porsche moaned and shivered but for a moment he resisted, until Kinn squeezed them harder and twisted his hand over the heads of their cocks.
“ Say it. ”
“Fuck– I’m yours!”
“Good boy.”
Kinn kissed him, fucking his tongue into his mouth in time with the stroking of his hand, driving them both to higher and higher heights of pleasure. Porsche was putty in his hands, almost boneless as he gave Kinn his weight and let him do as he wished.
Kinn brought them both to the brink with practiced movements. Porsche’s body shook as he got close, trembling in Kinn’s arm with each wave of pleasure. Kinn held him, every part of him, and treasured it. He cradled him through his release, the hot ropes of his come slicking his hand so that his grip turned to a smooth glide, the most exquisite feeling Kinn had ever felt, and found his own.
Afterwards they sat there, their foreheads pressed together, messy with each other's pleasure and not caring one bit. Porsche wrapped his arms around Kinn’s shoulders, and Kinn wrapped his own around Porsche’s waist. They held each other so close and so tight that Kinn could no longer tell where he ended and Porsche began. But he didn’t mind. It was the way it was meant to be.
“I–” Porsche cut himself off, hesitant.”I–”
Kinn smiled. “I love you, too.”
Porsche huffed, making Kinn chuckle and squeeze him tighter. “Jerk,” he said.
“Hmm.”
Rather abruptly Kinn extricated Porsche from his lap and plopped him back on the passenger's seat with a yelp.
“What was that for?”
“I want to get home,” Kinn said matter of factly, already re-starting the car engine. “So I can have you properly.”
Porsche swallowed, his marked throat bobbing visibly now that the headlights were on and more light filled the car. Kinn felt another curl of possessive satisfaction, seeing just how bruised and red his throat was. Kinn’s mark was everywhere. The way it should be.
“Well, hurry up then.”