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"Why did she have to touch you, though?" First whined, his voice tinged with a mixture of jealousy and indignation. His bottom lip jutted out in a pout so dramatic it could have won awards.
Khaotung chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as he crossed the room to where First sat sulking on the edge of their bed. Without a word, he cupped First’s cheeks, his fingers firm but tender, and gave them a gentle squeeze until the pout morphed into something closer to a goldfish impression.
“You're being ridiculous, you know that, right?” Khaotung teased, his lips quirking into a smirk as he leaned closer, his breath warm against First's ear. His voice dipped, rich and sultry, as he murmured, "You’re the one who gets to fuck me, aren’t you?”
First gasped, his eyes widening as his cheeks rapidly turned pink. His mouth opened, then closed back again, words failing him entirely as he desperately searched his mind for something to say. What could he possibly say to that?
Khaotung leaned back, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in his boyfriend’s flustered reaction. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue, baby?” he teased, tone dripping with mischief as he crawled up First’s body, settling comfortably on his lap.
If there was one thing you could trust Khaotung to do, was to always turn First's mind to a scrambled mush of incoherent thoughts with just a few carefully chosen words every time he opened his mouth.
First didn't know how he was able to do it—how he always managed to turn his mind on himself, leaving him utterly undone—and yet there he was, falling for his words every time, blushing furiously as he avoided his boyfriend's piercing gaze.
“Aww,” Khaotung cooed, words pitched sweet and teasing, the warmth of his breath brushing against First’s lips as he leaned in closer. “Aren’t you just the cutest?”
Then, with deliberate slowness, Khaotung ground his hips against First’s, the motion slow and torturous, sending a jolt of heat straight through him.
“My sweet, poor boyfriend," Khaotung murmured, pressing a soft kiss to First’s lips. Once. Twice. Each kiss was brief, interrupted by his teasing words. "So jealous." He kissed him again, lingering this time, just enough to leave First breathless.
Khaotung’s hands found First’s, guiding them to rest on his waist. First’s fingers tightened instinctively, his grip firm enough to turn Khaotung’s skin white before it flushed red under his fingers. The faint marks left behind drew a quiet satisfaction from him—and he absentmindedly wished they were permanent.
That way, at least, the world would know Khaotung was his. His, and his alone.
“Possessive, are we?” Khaotung murmured with a hum of satisfaction, the sting left by First's grip momentarily sucking all the air out of his lungs.
It would be an understatement to say that Khaotung liked it when First acted on his impulses—when jealousy clouded his mind and left him in a fog of possessive thoughts he couldn't escape from—because, really, he loved it.
After all their history and everything they had been through—the misunderstandings, the unresolved feelings and jealousy displays that almost tore them apart—Khaotung loved it when First undeniably claimed him as his, when the walls guarding his emotions fell crumbling to his feet and all he could do was to kiss and mark Khaotung's skin as if his life depended on it.
Today was no different.
“You let her-” First started, his words breaking into a moan when Khaotung sucked the soft skin of his neck. The sound sent a thrill through Khaotung, whose lips curled into a wicked smile against First’s flushed skin, pleased to hear his boyfriend struggle with his words.
“You let her touch you” First managed to choke out after a few seconds, his voice was soft and airy, his eyes glazed over with desire. Yet he continued talking , as if there weren't better things they could be doing with their mouths right now.
Stubborn
“ That’s how the choreography was arranged, sweetheart,” Khaotung countered smoothly, low and teasing. He punctuated his words with kisses trailing down First’s neck, each touch lingering just enough to elicit small shudders from First's body on its wake.
As his lips reached First’s collarbones, Khaotung’s tongue darted out, tracing reverent patterns over the sensitive skin. The action pulled a series of airy, breathless gasps from First’s parted lips, each sound igniting a smug satisfaction in Khaotung’s chest.
“But-” First attempted to argue, the carefully constructed argument breaking into a shaky gasp as Khaotung's tongue circled one of his nipples, his shirt had been long discarded by now, nowhere to be seen.
“What?” Khaotung murmured dismissively, his smirk audible in his tone. “Are you really jealous over a dance move?” His left hand continued its teasing exploration, tracing the outline of First’s neglected nipple while his right hand slid lower, palming him over the fabric of his pants with an almost too-casual ease.
“I'm not” First replied stubbornly, as if his voice wasn't breaking into whiny moans every time Khaotung’s fingers brushed over his erection, pressing through the increasingly tight fabric of his pants.
He was , in fact, jealous. He just didn't want to admit it and give his mean, annoying boyfriend the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under his skin.
“That’s such a shame,” Khaotung sighed dramatically, his hands continuing their teasing, brushing against First’s most sensitive parts with a slow, deliberate touch. “I was almost tempted to let you teach me who I really belong to.”
It was the promise, the hidden meaning that statement carried that did it for First, who immediately perked up at the words, unable to hide his growing interest at yet another of Khaotung's antics.
“That’s not fair,” First complained, words shaky with frustration, his pulse quickening.
“I never said I was,” Khaotung replied with a devil grin, his tone almost mocking but laced with undeniable desire.
With a swift, fluid motion, Khaotung pushed First onto the bed by his shoulders, his weight settling over First’s hips as he straddled him, the warmth of their bodies mingling and sending a shiver of anticipation through both of them.
“Will you show me?” Khaotung asked, the question a low, taunting whisper. He pressed his hips down into First’s, grinding against him slowly. The unmistakable outline of First’s arousal rubbed against his ass, heat spreading through his body.
First’s breath hitched, and a soft moan escaped him, followed by a whine that was as much desire as it was frustration. “What?” He struggled to keep up with the conversation.
Khaotung leaned down, the movement making their hips grind together, a sharp intake of breath the only sound that could be heard in the otherwise silent room.
“You heard me,” Khaotung murmured against First’s lips, his tone silky and smooth, sending shivers down First’s spine. He could already feel the undeniable heat of his own arousal pooling inside his boxer briefs. “You want to show me who I belong to?”
There was nothing, absolutely nothing in the world that could keep First from giving Khaotung exactly what he wanted.
The thought of it, the feel of Khaotung’s body above his, sent a wave of possessiveness through him. He wasn’t about to back down, not now. Not when Khaotung was pushing him, coaxing him to claim what was his.
And if, by the time tomorrow came, their manager scolded them for leaving visible marks on each other’s necks? Well, that was a problem for tomorrow.