Chapter Text
Rain has a headache.
It’s Wednesday morning, just after midnight, and he has an architectural history final due in two days – one he hasn’t even started on. Rain was intent on spending at least a few hours on that, and then he was going to curl up in bed with a takeaway pizza and mindlessly scroll Netflix for something to binge-watch. But instead, he’s here, headache setting his teeth on edge, at some kind of nightclub-dive bar hybrid, with his legs awkwardly dangling down from a very uncomfortable barstool, yearning like he’s never yearned before for a Panadol and his pillowcase.
It’s not that he doesn’t like nightclubs. Truthfully, he loves them when he’s in the right mood. It just so happens that Rain is in the wrong mood.
He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Sky, who politely knocked at his front door at 11pm, arm in arm with Ple, and weaved a fantastical tale of an amazing new bar that had just opened up in the city centre. Ple, Sig and Som were all desperate to go, wired from exam stresses of their own, and Sky, who is nothing if not a good friend, reluctantly agreed to sober drive them there on the condition that he could bring Rain along, too.
Rain, of course, leapt at the opportunity to procrastinate on his paper more. And hey, if he didn’t admit that a little thrill of excitement ran down his spine at the mention of this particular bar being of the gay variety, he’d be lying. Rain had come to some kind of self-realization recently, one that he’d drunkenly blurted out to his friends after one too many beers during their last semester break, that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as into girls as he thought he was. Maybe he wanted to test the waters with a guy.
Sky had rubbed his back, Ple stood up and clapped like a character in a 2010 Tumblr post, Sig put his hands over his mouth and said oh my god twenty times over. Som furrowed his eyebrows and mused about the statistical probability of everyone in their friend group being some flavour of queer, to which Sky shrugged and remarked that it was more likely than one might think.
All in all, it was an eventful conversation, but a conversation was all it was. Rain hadn’t had the chance to test the waters just yet, even though he really, really wanted to.
And it was that want in particular that had Rain jumping in the shower and leaving his night of pizza and Netflix behind, a little shaky and hopped-up on the possibilities of the night ahead. He’d even let Ple pick out his outfit.
But all of that was before the headache.
If Rain had known back then that when he got here his brain would start to feel like it was melting out of his ears with every tinny bass drop over the speakers, he would not have agreed to this.
The nightclub, ominously named 'Inferno' – which, no, the irony of a gay club named after literal western hell is not lost on Rain – is lit up with bright red LEDs that are making his eyes burn, and it’s shockingly dirty for a place that’s supposedly been open for a handful of days.
He wants to leave. Badly.
As if reading Rain’s thoughts, Ple appears out of nowhere and hops up onto a barstool next to him, sliding some sort of cocktail in front of his nose. It’s in a tall glass and brightly coloured with tacky rainbow layers, stacked to the brim with crushed ice and decorated with a single slice of lemon.
“I got you something.” She snickers, pushing the drink into his hand.
“What the hell is this?”
At Rain’s raised eyebrow, Ple nods encouragingly, smirking like she’s telling the world’s funniest joke, and lifts the drink closer to his lips.
“Try it,” She urges, “It’s tasty, I swear. Look, I’ll even give you my umbrella.”
Ple plucks a tiny umbrella out of her glass - some kind of pink, orange and white gradient in a champagne flute - spins it around between her fingers, then drops it into his drink upside down.
“There. A gay little drink for my favourite gay little friend.”
Ple grins and boops his nose with her forefinger. Rain narrows his eyes. If Ple wasn’t so funny he’d block her on every social media platform immediately and never talk to her again, but unfortunately for him, she is, so he just shakes his head silently and takes a begrudging sip of the drink. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s also probably 99% sugar, and Rain’s brain informs him with a painful throb that no, he will not be finishing that.
“That’s it,” Ple says. Rain grimaces. “Now, drink up. Have some fun for once. There has to be someone in here that’s your type. Hey, that one over there looks alright!”
Rain turns to look over his shoulder, in the direction Ple is pointing, and he’s faced with a man in his early forties at the very youngest, with overly-gelled bottle-blond hair sticking up in every direction and a wallet chain hanging from his jeans.
“Seriously?” Rain flashes Ple an incredulous look “Seriously?”
Ple grins wider and takes a sip of her drink.
“Your taste in men is terrible.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Duh.”
Rain sighs and sets his drink down on the bar.
“You have it. I don’t think all that sugar is going to agree with the tiny evil man banging pots and pans inside of my brain.”
Ple just shrugs and picks up the mocktail, popping the straw in her mouth. “Coward.”
“Where’s Sky?” Rain asks. It’s not that he doesn’t like hanging out with Ple, it’s just that Sky is a softer touch than she is, and he knows that if he begs hard enough, he might let Rain go home.
“Downstairs, I think.”
At that, Rain bids Ple goodbye with a flick to her forehead and sets off to find his best friend.
As it turns out, finding Sky isn’t as easy as Rain thought it was going to be. The club spreads out across multiple floors, and whoever was in charge of designing this place had the genius idea to join each one with a steep, dark, frankly terrifying stairwell. Rain has no idea how this place is up to code. He decides resolutely that once he graduates, he’s never putting a set of stairs into a building that doesn’t have handrails. Never. What a terrible idea.
The first floor where Rain was sitting with Ple is regular enough, just filled to the brim with horny part-time dads all bopping their heads together to cheap techno music. Boring at best, and cringe-inducing at worst.
The second floor’s clientele gets a little younger, mostly students around Rain’s age. They’re all crowded around the bar necking Jagerbombs or stacked on top of each other having very loud, semi-public sex in the pleather booths that line the walls. The staff don’t seem to care.
The final floor is easily the most unpleasant, and busiest, so far. It’s a dimly-lit basement level with a low ceiling and hot, sticky air that’s thick with smoke and sweat.
As Rain comes down the stairs, the strong smell of weed smacks him directly in the face. It’s dark down here, it’s kind of hard to breathe, and the dancefloor is packed from wall to wall with half-naked people, all ebbing and flowing to a metallic trap track that’s blasting over the speakers, like one big amorphous blob that exists solely to move in unison to the music.
For a moment, he considers turning around and not even bothering to look. But then, he spots a neon pink LUST sign mounted up on a wall halfway across said basement level, glowing like a beacon in the darkness, and decides with a resigned sigh to press on. It’s probably the bar. If Sky is anywhere in this room, he’ll be there, chatting away with a bartender over a glass of soda.
That theory is very quickly proven wrong when Rain finally gets there. After having to shimmy down the club wall like a James Bond reject, he discovers that no, there’s no Sky at the bar. There’s no Sky anywhere.
Rain has had enough. He’s sweating through his shirt despite not having danced at all tonight. He’s hot, dehydrated and decidedly over it.
He needs a drink.
Water, preferably.
Rain skulks over to the corner of the bar and raps his knuckles against the hardwood. There are several bar staff whirling around behind it, scooping ice into glasses and dropping shots into cocktail shakers.
Rain pushes himself up on his tippy-toes to get a better look, when, to his ever-increasing annoyance, a pair of hands settle on his hips and a puff of damp breath wraps around the nape of his neck.
Oh, hell no. He does not have time for this. Not tonight, of all nights.
Rain turns to chew whoever is grabbing at him out and oh, it’s the guy from upstairs, the blond one that Ple pointed out. His forehead is slick and plastered with sweat, and he’s far too close for Rain’s comfort.
“Like what you see, pretty?”
Rain has to restrain himself from audibly gagging.
“You wish.”
“I saw you looking before,” the man says, and he has this thin smirk on his face that makes Rain’s skin crawl.
“You cannot be fucking serious–” Rain starts, but then, out of nowhere, there’s a warmth at his hip and an arm draping itself around his shoulder.
“Hey, baby. I‘ve been looking all over for you," a deep voice to Rain’s left says, presumably the owner of the arm, and wow, this night couldn’t get any worse, could it? One guy creeping on him is enough, he doesn’t need two.
Rain turns to see who it is and oh, that thought deflates embarrassingly fast.
The owner of the arm is tall and broad, with shiny black hair that’s gathered into a tidy topknot at the back of his head, loose enough that a few errant strands are falling over his forehead to cut the peaks of his cheekbones. He’s wearing a thin billowy shirt that’s cotton-white and unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing his very defined, very visible, collarbones.
Rain swallows, legs suddenly jelly. If he has a type, this is definitely it.
Realizing that he’s looking his way, the man shoots Rain a look and raises his eyebrows with a subtle nod, almost as if to say trust me.
The man turns away then, giving Rain’s shoulder a firm squeeze.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother my boyfriend.”
Rain has no idea what’s going on. What he does know is this guy is hot, very hot. In fact, he might be one of the hottest guys Rain has ever seen.
“Ugh, sorry man, whatever.” A voice somewhere in Rain's periphery says.
By the time Rain’s managed to drag his eyes away from the stranger’s handsome face, the sweaty guy from earlier has turned his back on them both and is shouldering his way back onto the dancefloor.
“Baby?” Rain squeaks, turning back again to meet the man’s eyes. He’s confused and mortifyingly enough, kind of turned on. This is not the position he thought he’d end up in tonight. He coughs, internally banishing all of his impure thoughts before anyone notices. “Did you get me mixed up with someone else?”
“No.” The man’s gaze is piercing, and Rain watches with bated breath as it’s dragged down his body, from his lips down to his toes, and then back up again. “I was talking to you.”
After a quiet beat, the man smiles broadly, something mischievous in his eyes, then smoothly detaches his arm from Rain's shoulder.
“Sorry for not asking first. You looked really uncomfortable.”
“I could’ve handled him myself.”
Rain pouts and folds his arms across his chest, a sudden wave of insecurity washing over him. He’s feeling petulant, and his head still hurts. This guy might be sex on legs but Rain isn’t a baby, he can handle himself.
“I might be small, but I’m not weak. I know exactly where to kick a guy where it hurts.”
The handsome stranger arches a brow and takes a full step back, eyes narrowing and lips stretching out into a cunning smile.
“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
Rain pushes his bottom lip out more and straightens his shoulders. So what if he was? He’s an adult. He doesn’t need some big, sexy, knight in shining armour to save him from anyone (even if somewhere deep down he still feels weak at the knees at the thought that this particular big, sexy, knight in shining armour had done just that moments before).
Rain watches in agony, internal conflict silently raging on as the stranger’s tongue peeks out and runs along the sharp edges of his teeth.
“Call me P’Phayu.” Handsome stranger, P’Phayu, says, leaning a touch closer, presumably so that Rain can hear him properly over the music. He’s staring so hard into Rain’s eyes that it feels like he might bore a hole right through him.
“I’m. Um.” Rain digs his fingernails into his biceps, arms still firmly crossed. “I’m Rain.”
“Rain.” Payu breathes out the word like he’s tasting it, letting it roll across his tongue. Rain swallows down a lump that’s materialized in his throat.
“Are you here with anyone, Rain? Friends?” Phayu asks, fierce gaze never breaking. “boyfriend?”
Rain feels his resolve crumble into ash and float away as if it was never even there.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because I’m interested in you,” Phayu replies easily, matter-of-fact. His gaze is raking over Rain’s body again and the heat in it has Rain’s cheeks flushing scarlet.
“I- I don’t have one.” Rain stutters out, and oh no, there’s a flash of heat warming his belly. “A boyfriend, I mean. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Phayu apparently takes that as his cue to get closer again. His arm snakes its way back around Rain’s shoulder, toned bicep resting gently on the nape of his neck. Rain swallows again. The lump refuses to go away.
“Dance with me,” Phayu purrs in his ear, and the hairs on the back of Rain’s neck stand up at the eroticism of it, of Phayu’s mouth dragging against his jaw as he speaks, breath hot and wet. “Please.”
It takes Phayu’s fingers curling around his hip for Rain to realize that he’s been staring long enough to make it awkward. He looks up at Phayu, who’s looking back down at him like he’s a three-course meal, chin tilted back and eyelids heavy.
Rain snaps out of his momentary trance to look down at his feet. He feels light-headed, entirely aware of the fact that it’s not just the headache that’s making him feel like he’s on the verge of passing out.
“Um,” Rain murmurs again, “Okay.”
Phayu bites down on his lip at that and holds an open palm up in the air. He looks at Rain and then down at his offered hand with a nod. Without thinking, Rain links their hands together and settles at Phayu’s side. They’ve only just met, but there’s something unspoken and heavy about the way Phayu is looking at him that makes Rain want to do exactly what he says.
Phayu squeezes his hand and leads them both into the crowd, Rain trailing behind. He has to be careful not to stumble over his own feet as Phayu pushes his way through the mass of people.
Phayu’s broad body is a great buffer and it manages to part a path for them through to the centre of the dancefloor without too much trouble. Still, the club is cramped, and there are people jammed up against them on all sides, heads thrown back and bodies rocking to the music, so it’s no surprise that before long, he’s been caged in to the point where his face is almost smooshed directly between Phayu’s shoulders.
Rain’s busy staring at a spot right there, in the centre of Phayu’s back, where the flex of his shoulder blades are being lit up blue and pink by the club’s strobe lights, wondering how on earth he got here when there’s a pain in his shin - someone’s foot smacking directly into his leg. Rain’s knee buckles, his ankle turns on itself, and all of a sudden, the question he asked himself earlier about how the night could get worse seems to be answering itself. By falling on your ass in the middle of a packed nightclub.Rain squeezes his eyes shut to prepare for the impact. Fuck.
But before it comes, there’s a sharp pull on hiss wrist and then, in a split second, an arm coiling tightly around his waist.
The impact of the floor doesn’t come, and Rain lets all of the air out of his lungs at once, relieved not to be going home with a broken nose. it doesn’t take a master detective to figure out who saved his face from its’ meeting with the floor, because Phayu’s grip is still tight on his hand, almost painfully so, and it’s in perfect view, their interlaced fingers pressed tight together against Rain’s stomach, keeping them both steady. Evidently, he never let go.
“I’ve got you,” Phayu breathes from behind, barely audible through the snapping 808’s echoing around the room, and he’s so close that the words cool the sweat tracking down the back of Rain’s neck. Rain inhales deep, doing his best to soothe the quickening flutter beneath his ribs. Whether that’s from the surprise of the fall, or the hard line of Phayu’s body pressing tightly against his spine, he can’t really tell. So instead of thinking too hard about it, he mumbles out a shaky thanks, and does his best to right his footing.
“C’mon, sweet thing," Phayu squeezes Rain's fingers, still locked between his own. "Let’s dance,”
Phayu’s voice is like nectar, thick and sweet, and Rain is powerless to do anything but go along with whatever the man says. His fingers slip underneath the hem of Rain’s shirt, fingertips skimming the skin of his bare stomach, and all Rain can do is keen back into it, head dropping back onto Phayu’s shoulder.
“You smell so good,” Phayu says, nosing at Rain’s hair, voice barely loud enough for him to make out over the ambient noise on the dancefloor.
Rain does his best to move to the music, legs still a little wobbly. He’s hyper-aware of the fact that his ass is now dangerously close to Phayu’s lap, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s arching his back to experimentally press it into the seam of Phayu’s jeans.
Rain swallows thickly, cursing to himself. This is fucking insane. Twenty minutes ago he was determined to go home and sleep, and now he’s got a very attractive man holding onto his hips, guiding them to move in unison with his own, and breathing into the shell of his ear.
“Want you so bad,” Phayu growls, hooking his fingertips around Rain’s belt loops and pulling him closer, “You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?”
Rain feels himself mewl, disbelieving. His body feels like it’s floating away, and he thinks, for a moment, that if Phayu’s fingers weren’t holding him there, anchoring him to the ground, he might do just that; fly up, up, up, skywards into the clouds.
Phayu knows exactly what he’s doing. They’re in public and Rain had no idea before tonight that was something he’d be into, but he can’t hide the effect Phayu is having on his body, even from himself. He's half-hard from a little dancing and a few compliments, trapped uncomfortably in his jeans, turned on and desperate for someone he’s only just met.
He wants to kiss Phayu. Wants to kiss him more than he’s ever wanted to kiss someone in his life, so he takes a deep, heady breath, and spins around in Phayu’s arms.
As if reading Rain’s mind, Phayu obliges with fervour.
Their lips meet halfway, open-mouthed and filthy, and then Rain’s hands are in Phayu’s hair, and Phayu’s are back on his waist, gripping so tight it aches. It’s so hot, and they’re so close, and Rain completely loses sight of the fact that he’s making out with a stranger in the middle of a crowded nightclub basement in central Bangkok. There’s a bassy pop song bouncing around the room, the floor is shaking with the number of people jumping up and down to the chorus, excitable students laughing and shouting at each other. But despite all that, the only thing Rain can hear is the sound of his heartbeat rushing in his ears. All he can feel is big, warm hands sliding up his ribs, teeth bruising his bottom lip, thick black eyelashes tickling his eyelids.
Rain feels himself rolling onto his tippy-toes, and Phayu responds in kind by parting Rain's legs with his knee, thigh pressing eagerly into his crotch. Rain gasps, choking out a moan into Phayu’s mouth, and it’s enough to break the kiss. Phayu’s staring right at him, pupils blown out and eyes hungry.
“Ride it,” He breathes into Rain’s mouth, before stealing another searing kiss. “Ride my thigh.”
Phayu’s mouth meets his again, but Rain is too turned on to focus. He drops his forehead to the crook of Phayu’s neck and slides obediently forward on Phayu’s thigh. Every rational thought in his head is screaming at him to stop, to jump back, to that this somewhere private at the very least. But he’s so fucking horny, and he can feel that Phayu is hard, too, pressing up into Rain’s hip. Just knowing that he’s having some kind of effect on Phayu is enough to send his hips rocking forward again.
Phayu’s breath is hot and heavy in Rain’s ear, and his big hands slide down to grip the backs of Rain’s legs. Then, with an audible whine from Rain, he’s pulling him closer, closer, closer, impossibly close.
“Good boy,” Phayu whispers into his ear, and the praise sends an almost painful spike of heat directly to Rain’s cock. He’s close to coming from that alone, dishevelled and desperate. Rain’s learning so much about himself today.
“P’Phayu” Rain hears himself say, in a way that’s unfamiliar to his own ears. His voice sounds lewd, dripping with want, he’s near begging, and he’d be mortified if he didn’t feel the hard contour of Phayu’s dick twitch through his jeans at the sound of his own name.
“That’s it Rain, be a good boy for Phi.”
Rain hooks his arms around Phayu’s neck, eyelids squeezed shut. His hips feel like they’re moving on their own now, rocking in circles against rough denim, eagerly chasing a release. He knows he could come like this, he’s almost there as it is, and yet it somehow still shocks him when Phayu groans “Are you going to come for me?” into his ear.
“Just like this?” Phayu goes on “You should see yourself. You’re fucking obscene.”
Phayu leans back then, capturing Rain’s face in his hands, before bending down to slide his tongue past the seam of his lips.
Rain’s fully aware of the way he’s whimpering into Phayu’s mouth, of the way his hips are twitching, stuttering forward. He feels like he’s dreaming, mind hazy and heart trapped in his throat.
Phayu’s palms go to the curve of Rain’s ass then, and he squeezes so hard that it feels like his fingertips might leave bruises. Rain shudders at the thought.
“Wanted to fuck you since the second I saw you,” Phayu murmurs through a kiss to his exposed jaw “wanted to bend you over the bar and fuck you right there.”
It’s that that does it. The idea of Phayu fucking him, splitting him open with his cock, pushing in deep and taking, taking, taking, right in front of everyone at the club, that sends Rain over the edge. He tightens his hold around Phayu’s neck and pushes forward one more time. His vision almost whites out at the force of his orgasm, near knocking him off of his feet. It feels like it lasts forever, his cock shooting off in his boxers and his balls tight and throbbing from where they’re trapped painfully between his thighs.
“Fuck yes, Rain. Such a good boy for me, fuck.”
Phayu’s teeth sink into Rain’s lower lip so hard that he can taste blood, and Rain registers the feeling of Phayu rutting into his hip through the orgasm-cloud fogging up his thoughts.
Rain holds him close, lets Phayu grind into him and breathe praise into his mouth through messy kisses. Rain just came and his cock is threatening to twitch to life again in his pants.
Rain can tell how close Phayu is; he’s got a vice grip on Rain’s ass and his dick is hot and solid through the fabric of his jeans. Rain wants him to come, too; wants Phayu to feel as good as he does right now. But just as Phayu’s murmuring “Gonna-” into Rain’s cheek, a loud clap to his shoulder almost sends them both off balance.
Rain leaps back out of Phayu’s grip, bumping into the writhing body mass of a group dancing directly behind him, and it’s like everything rushes back to him at once. His skull throbs painfully, long-forgotten headache re-appearing with a vengeance. There are people on every side, some are looking directly at him, cheeks distinctly flushed despite the sickly green club lights shadowing their faces.
“Phayu, I’ve been looking all over for you, man,” Someone shouts over Phayu’s shoulder, and if Rain weren’t in a semi-state of shock he’d be able to register how handsome this guy is, broad like Phayu and hair artfully styled in a side-part.
“Who’s this?” The guy looks Rain up and down, gaze momentarily catching on the front of Rain’s pants. He flashes a smile, probably attempting to make it look like he didn’t see, but Rain knows he has.
Rain is frozen in place, limbs sticking straight down. There’s come drying in his underwear, and a thousand different thoughts are zipping around his head. What had he just done? What the hell was wrong with him? Who even was this guy? The fuck was he thinking?
The guy laughs then, smiles wide and bright, and then turns to whisper something into Phayu’s ear. Rain can’t be sure what he says, but to Rain’s ever-expanding horror, it looks shockingly similar to the word “nice.”
Rain looks to Phayu; properly, for the first time since they sprung apart. His lips are red and slick with spit, chest heaving, and his eyebrows are furrowed. To his credit, he looks genuinely pissed off at the interruption.
When their eyes meet, Phayu’s brow softens. He takes a step toward Rain.
Rain’s sure he looks like a terrified animal, trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. He doesn’t know what to do.
“Pai, shut up.” Phayu hisses to his friend, reaching out for Rain’s hand, but it’s too late.
Rain turns tail, and runs.