Archive of Our Own ^beta

In bed, Kawi is awkward.

It’s not Pisaeng, never Pisaeng, because he’s sweet and patient, and while he can be pushy to get Kawi into bed, he’s never pushy once they get there. Or maybe it is, in a way, because the difference between them becomes abundantly clear when they’re naked and unguarded, and Kawi has to face the reality of himself.

He’s new to this, relatively at least, because they’ve only been together for a few months, and until then, Kawi was, in a technical and quite confusing way, still a virgin. There’s a part of him in the convoluted mess of his own history that had sex with Pearmai, but the memories are difficult to reach, and he doesn’t really want to go there either. It wasn’t him, not really, and it wasn’t really Pear, either, and he found that once he leaves a timeline, the experiences he didn’t recover while back there remain vague and pale, a bleached-out Polaroid showing nothing but shadowy outlines.

The Kawi that remains, the one he is, never truly dared to think or fantasise about it because he didn’t feel allowed to do this—to be sexual, to desire someone—because he doesn’t feel desirable himself at all. So he’s awkward, and he knows it, and his heart aches to know that Pisaeng doesn’t mind one bit, that he’s endlessly patient and endlessly gentle, no matter if Kawi hides or laughs in the middle of it to not let his nerves show. And still, the frustration of it all is constantly eating away at him.

"I don’t get what your problem is," Max tells him as they stroll along campus, raising his brows as he sips on his boba. "He’s crazy about you. He wants you. And I know because he shows it even when we’re around. It’s kind of hot, actually."

Kawi lets out an undignified huff and shoves his shoulder. "Stop ogling my boyfriend."

Max just shrugs and laughs it off. "I’m on a dry spell; I can’t help it. It’s the legs, I think. Also the face. You’re so lucky, man." 

And that, exactly, is the problem. He’s lucky, too lucky, and a part of him is waiting for the luck to run out any day now, for Pisaeng to wake up and look at his puffy eyes and messy hair and realise that he’s been fooling himself all along.

Sometimes, when Pisaeng brings him along to meet old friends or when they walk across campus hand in hand, there’s a voice at the back of Kawi’s mind that wants to apologise to him, that wants to say sorry for being the one by his side, a voice telling him that people will say, "What does the Pisaeng want from this one?" once they move past them. It’s a strange kind of shame, secondhand and on behalf of another, but Kawi feels it intensely and debilitatingly. So he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the infatuation to run out, and for Pisaeng to see him for what he is; and he’s scared of that moment above anything else.

"I…," he tries to start again because he really needs to talk about it with someone, and Max did him the favour of listening to his sex-induced crisis before. It's part of his duties as Kawi's best friend anyway. Yet it's so very difficult to articulate. "See, the thing is…"

Max sighs and stops Kawi in his tracks, turning to face him. "Do you ever initiate anything?"

"No," Kawi admits, shaking his head.

Max's brows shoot up, but he doesn't comment. "Do you ever take charge once you’re going?" 

Another shake of Kawi's head. "Not really, no. I kind of just… let him do what he wants."

Max winces in response, and Kawi draws his shoulders up and clings to his tote bag. "Ok, listen," Max starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sex is not something you give or take. It’s something you do together. It’s something you enjoy together. If you’re just giving him what he wants, how are you supposed to enjoy that, huh? Well, unless you’re into that, but you don’t seem like the kinky type."

Kawi quickly shakes his head yet again.

"See, so the only solution is to tell him what you want and actively ask for it. And I get that it can be uncomfortable, but you can always start slow and work your way up, alright?"

"But I don’t even really know what I want," Kawi grinds out, avoiding Max’s gaze. It’s embarrassing to admit this, because even though Max thinks he’s only twenty-one and not way over thirty, he feels that he should at least have a clue, an idea of what he’s into, apart from a vague concept of being into Pisaeng.

Max lets out a long, dramatic sigh, grabs Kawi’s wrist, and drags him over to a secluded bench that’s nestled between two columns. "Okay, do you like it slow or hard?"

"What?" Kawi whispers, looking around to see if anyone is in earshot.

Max, opposite him, doesn't seem bothered or deterred, though, as he simply says, "You heard me," raising his chin and daring Kawi to reply.

"I guess… slow? We don’t really, you know," Kawi mumbles. "But this is really not the place to-"

"Okay, the love-making type. I figured," Max continues without listening, nodding to himself. "Give or receive?"

"Max, please," Kawi groans, because this, of all things, is not something he ever wanted to discuss in public, or maybe at all now that he thinks about it.

Max just raises his brows at him, with an unbudging face and his mouth a firm line, and Kawi has known him long enough to understand he's not getting out of the conversation until Max considers it over and the issue solved.

"Both," Kawi mumbles, squirming against the concrete under him and fighting the blush that’s creeping up his neck.

Max looks satisfied with that answer. "Nice, you have options then. Blowjobs?"

Kawi just hums, the heat rising further and further up his face.

"Both ways?"

"Hmmm. Max, can you please-"

"Work with me here, Kawi. I’m trying to help," Max demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

But he got it all wrong. "It’s not what we do! It's that I can’t stop thinking and being self-conscious. He looks at me during… sex , and I want to crawl out of my skin and just become someone else. I want to be one of the guys from the bar who are fit and handsome, the ones who hit on him all the time, and then take him home and just do it instead of always thinking about what I’m doing and how I might look."

Max's face turns serious at his words, attentive, his eyes wide but gently patient. It’s Max when he’s not joking around, when he knows the situation is earnest, when he’s Kawi’s best friend and the one person he’d trust with anything.

And then the words just tumble out of Kawi's mouth, a cascade of all those things he keeps inside barraging out without taking a breath: "I don’t know what he sees in me, Max. And I feel so bad next to him sometimes because he looks like this and I’m…. me. I see people looking at him—the prettiest girls and the hottest guys—and I look at myself, thinking he could do so much better. And then I get shy when we do it, and that makes me feel guilty because it must ruin the experience for him, but he never says something, and I don’t know how to bring it up, so I just grind my teeth and keep going, even though I want to be something different for him. I want to be sexy and enthusiastic and not in my head all the time, but I don’t know how because I have no experience and-"

"Kawi, Kawi, stop, stop right there," Max interrupts him, catching his hands that were gesticulating mid-air and holding them carefully between his own. "First of all, you don’t need to be anything for anyone. Not even for your partner, and especially not for Pisaeng. This guy loves you. He tells me about eight times a week. It’s kind of annoying."

"I know he loves me; that’s not the issue," Kawi grumbles, a little bit embarrassed that he just admitted all that, but he knows that Max, despite all of his snark and his sarcasm, would never judge or ridicule him for this.

"Second of all," Max continues, his voice turning achingly soft. "No one can love your insecurities away; that’s for you to work on. He can help you; he can tell you every day how much he wants you, but I know you, and I know his words don’t count because you, in your big stubborn head, think he’s just saying that to make you feel better."

Kawi winces, because it’s all sorts of awful how well Max knows him, how easily he can expose Kawi’s deepest thoughts. But at the same time, it’s easier when he doesn’t have to say it himself, when he has Max to hold the mirror up for Kawi to look in and face himself.

"You're uncomfortable being watched, and you need to build up confidence. So I think you need to eliminate this factor, turn off the lights or something, and see where it goes. Take charge for once, and you might discover a few things about yourself."

"You make it sound easy," Kawi says with a huff, not for the first time envying Max's unshakable confidence.

"It isn’t. Not when you’re you. But you wanted my advice, and this is it: talk to him, be honest, and tell him how you feel. Find a way to be comfortable together and work from there. You’re in a proper relationship, and this problem you have won’t go away with time. You won’t make any progress if you just stay quiet." He lets go of Kawi's hands, heartily patting his shoulder instead in encouragement. And then the corners of his lips twitch up, and his face turns impish as he says, "So use your smart mouth for something useful."

Kawi rolls his eyes and groans. "You just made an innuendo, didn’t you?"

"Sure did," Max replies, wiggling his brows and taking an unnecessarily suggestive sip of his drink.

*****

Kawi is sitting on his desk with a yellow post-it note in front of him and a pencil drumming rapidly onto the surface. So far, he has written down two points on his to-do list: 

1. Have sex with Pisaeng
2. Don’t be shy

It’s a work in progress, but he didn’t make any in over twenty minutes as he’s been alternating between staring at the wall and consulting Google, which led him down a path that forced him to stare back at the wall again, the space behind the little scribbled 3. remaining empty. He needs a plan, and quick, lest the tiny bit of courage he gathered from his talk with Max run out before Pisaeng returns back home. Or rather, arrives at his flat, as Kawi reminds himself, because he doesn’t technically live here, even though he’s clogging Kawi’s closet and hogging his favourite pillow most nights. He should probably ask him for rent money soon, since -

"Focus, Kawi" he tells himself, tapping the pencil against the bridge of his nose and forcing his mind back to the task at hand.

Max said to turn off the lights, but it’s kind of obvious if he suddenly gets up to flick the switch. They never did, and he feels awkward at the thought of walking across the room stark naked, knowing that Pisaeng is watching him. He sighs, loudly and a little too dramatic, because that’s his own boyfriend, who’s been all the way inside of him and vice versa, and yet he still feels this convoluted sense of shame and vulnerability as a lump of sticky tar in his chest. Also, if he wants to figure out what he’s into, it would be counterproductive if he couldn’t look at Pisaeng, and he likes looking at Pisaeng, even if he mostly limits himself to stolen glances from lowered lashes most of the time. But he’s nice to look at, wonderful even, tall and toned, and perfectly proportioned in all places.

A key turns in the lock, and Kawi's head whips up, watching with wide eyes as Pisaeng walks in in the navy blue suit he put on this morning. Kawi gulps, his nerves fluttering violently in his chest, and in a split second decision, he quickly crumples the little paper note up in his hands so Pisaeng won’t see it and knows what he’s up to.

"How did your interview go?" he asks, his voice too loud and too high, but Pisaeng doesn't really seem to notice, busy with taking his shoes off.

"Good, I think. They know my mum, so…" he says with a shrug and a grimace. "I’ll probably get the job, but I don’t know if I even want it anymore. If they just hire me because of my family name, what value does it have?"

Kawi huffs and gives him a soft, understanding smile. Once upon a time, he was jealous of him for that, too. Now he’s just happy that Pisaeng has it easier than him. "They will still see the excellent work you do," he says, getting up from his chair and walking over to help Pisaeng out of his fitted blazer. "And you might have gotten your foot in the door easier, but that doesn’t mean they won't take you seriously. I know you’ll charm and impress them all on your own, hmm."

Pisaeng just hums in response, stepping closer and bending down to rest his head against Kawi’s shoulder. He takes in a deep breath as his hands come up to hold onto his hips, and the sigh he lets out tickles against Kawi’s skin, making him shiver.

"I need a shower," Pisaeng mumbles, but he doesn't let go, instead turning his face until it’s nuzzled against the hinge of Kawi’s jaw, his lips brushing against the skin there and the stubble that’s beginning to show now that the evening is late. Kawi knows his intention when they move higher, across the shell of his ear, then down again, gently biting down on the lobe. "Join me?" Pisaeng whispers, his voice deliberately low and husky. Kawi knows this tone all too well. But at his words, something in Kawi freezes, chasing away the heat that just prickled down his back, and he feels himself turning rigid against Pisaeng, his muscles tensing against his will as his mind conjures up images of things that didn’t even happen yet, that strange, familiar dread settling in his stomach. It’s unreasonable; he knows that, and the part of him that doesn’t want to squirm out of Pisaeng’s hold is ignited with the image of his naked body pressed against himself and glistening under the spray. It could be so easy if he just said yes, but instead he shakes his head, buying himself time.

"I already had a shower earlier," he says, and it’s true, but it’s also an excuse.

Pisaeng just sighs, disappointed, defeated, or in acceptance; Kawi isn’t sure. "Alright," he murmurs, but the smile on his face when he straightens himself looks forced and doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

Kawi hates it—hates that he put this look on his face, but also that he’s making this so much more difficult than it needs to be. He already misses Pisaeng’s mouth against his skin, wants to keep it there, yet he sabotaged the situation, depriving himself of this particular pleasure. But he vowed to try and do better.

"Hey," Kawi says quickly, pulling him back by his hips before Pisaeng can untangle himself from him. He slides his hand up Pisaeng’s stomach, over the curve of his pectoral, and up to his collarbones, his fingertips gracing along the tie that’s still around his neck, his touch deliberate and determined. "Let me help you with this." He slips his fingers into the silk around Pisaeng’s neck, nimbly loosening the knot he himself tied this morning when it got stuck around Pisaeng’s face, blinding him for a moment. And suddenly, as he holds the fabric between his hands and strokes over it with his thumbs, an idea forms in his mind, one that makes his breath catch as he dares to let it take root.

He pushes up on his toes to kiss him then, capturing his bottom lip between his own to steady himself because there’s a sudden, dizzying rush of arousal surging through him that makes him feel unbalanced. His arms wrap around Pisaeng's neck, while his hands firmly grip the tie behind his head, and he presses closer again, letting his tongue run against Pisaeng's lips, asking him to deepen the kiss. But instead, Pisaeng pushes away.

"You don’t have to," he mumbles, a little bit out of breath and his cheeks already flushed, but his hands against Kawi's shoulders firmly keep him at a distance.

"I want to," Kawi tells him, honest and earnest, because right now he does, almost desperately so, the sudden rush of desire making his head a bit woozy.

For a long moment, Pisaeng looks at him with questioning eyes, as if he's searching for a sign of dishonesty, and Kawi wills himself to not avoid his gaze, holding it with serious determination.

"Okay," Pisaeng says eventually, his face softening again and the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "But I still need to shower first."

"Yeah, you stink," Kawi replies, and it's not true, not even a bit, but it makes Pisaeng laugh and takes the weight off both their shoulders for a moment.

Once he's alone again, Kawi stares down at the black silk in his hands, letting it run through his fingers and tying it around his palm. He doesn’t want to turn off the lights, but maybe with this… 

Lost in thought, he wanders over to the bedside table to take out supplies—condoms, lube in case they want to go that far tonight, wipes for afterwards—and he’s almost methodical with it, neatly placing the items onto the bedside table while fiddling with the tie at the same time. Pisaeng couldn’t watch him like this, but he could still watch Pisaeng, see his reactions and the way his body moves to his touch.  

Over in the bathroom, he can hear the shower being turned on, water pelting down against the tiles, then the rattling of the curtain being torn shut. Here, in his bedroom, Kawi sits down on the foot of the bed, biting his lips as he waits. He has no idea how to bring it up or if he’ll dare to even try, because something feels so forbidden about this, so much more daring than he feels, and yet…  

He lets himself fall against the comforter, his head feeling a bit too heavy with the thoughts swirling through it. In his mind's eye, there’s someone who looks nothing like him crawling over Pisaeng, their back arched and their eyes dark and seductive, their hands tantalising as they glide over his body and towards his face to tie the fabric around his head. But Kawi can’t do it like this, and he’d feel like an actor, like he’s putting on a show, when really he’s trying to get a little bit more genuine with this.

Maybe he should try to be at least a bit more seductive though, he considers, draping himself over the bed for Pisaeng to find him, but he feels awfully stupid with his head propped up like this and his wrist is already aching, so he lays down on his back instead, spreading out on the sheets, but now he just looks like he’s loafing around, and that’s about as unappealing as he can imagine. Kawi turns his face into the pillow and screams. "How do people do this?' He whines, pouting to himself and punching the mattress to round off his little tantrum. Why is this so unbelievably difficult for him? All he wants to do is seduce his own boyfriend, who's willing and eager, and yet he feels like his skin is too tight, pulled taut over his tense muscles, and feeling itchy.

It feels like an hour, but also a mere minute until the bathroom door clicks, and Kawi jumps off the bed again, standing in the middle of his tiny room with his hands clasped behind his back to hide the tie he’s kneading with nervous hands.

Pisaeng comes out with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, shaking his wet hair and making water droplets run down his chest, glistening against his skin as they travel along his stomach until they disappear into the fine line of hair below his navel. Kawi swallows. It’s really not fair how effortlessly attractive this man is, and he feels even more insignificant now in his sweat shorts and washed-out t-shirt. He’s really so terribly bad at this.

Pisaeng stops in the doorway, his hand frozen in midair and his eyes wide and amused. He looks behind himself, making a show of peering into the short hallway behind him, before turning back to face Kawi. "Is everything alright? You look a bit like you saw a ghost."

Before he can even finish properly, Kawi blurts out, "I want to ask if we can try something," his back rigid and sounding strangely formal, but he tells himself to keep going, to not back out now, so he takes a deep breath and reveals the fabric in his hands to Pisaeng, closely studying his face for a reaction.

Pisaeng, on his part, looks a little bit confused at first, tilting his head to the side as he stares at the slim black tie Kawi is holding out to him. And then his grin turns sly, and his eyes darken with that intensity that Kawi knows, and that always shoots right to the depths of his stomach.

"You want to tie me up?" Pisaeng asks, stepping closer to take the other end of the tie and pulling Kawi towards him with it.

Curiously, the idea ignites a small but bright spark in him, but Kawi stores that newfound information away for later. Right now, he’s focused on finding the right words to take this step.

"No, I…" He denies, looking down at his own hands and feeling a little bit stupid. "I-" He can’t say it, the words getting stuck somewhere deep in his throat and clogging it, and he’s annoyed at himself once again.

"Hey," Pisaeng says quietly, closing the distance between them to frame Kawi’s face between his hands and resting their foreheads together, shutting out the world and creating a small space between his arms where only the two of them exist. "Whatever you want, okay. I’ll try it for you. I know you always do for me, but I want you to tell me what you want, too. It’s a bit hard to guess, you know."

"I’m sorry," Kawi replies, fighting the urge to be snarky or sarcastic right now and flee the situation. But Pisaeng's fingertips drawing gentle circles against his temples calm him down a little.

"I’m not complaining," Pisaeng reassures him. "But… I want to be able to satisfy you. And I don’t think I’m doing a good job at it right now."

His words sting with guilt. It's his fault that Pisaeng is feeling like this, but he's here to get it right, better at least, so he pushes the feeling down. Honesty —that's what Max said mattered the most. And here in Pisaeng’s arms, in his room that's almost theirs now, and with the knowledge of their shared insecurity, it’s suddenly easier.

"It’s not that. I like being with you like this. I was never that…sexual; it was never that important to me. But I want it with you. It's just…" Another deep breath, and he forces himself to look up and into Pisaeng’s eyes, allowing him to see all the vulnerability and fear he’s feeling, but also the sincerity. "It makes me incredibly insecure to know you’re watching me," he confesses quietly, his words barely above a whisper, but he knows Pisaeng is listening. "And I feel like I have to perform, almost."

"You don’t know how beautiful you are when we do it," Pisaeng replies, his smile turning gentle and adoring as he brushes a strand of hair out of Kawi’s forehead. "When your face is all flushed, and your hair is all sweaty, and-"

"Shut up," Kawi groans, lightly slapping his shoulder because this is not what he needs to hear right now.

Pisaeng chuckles in response, catching Kawi’s hand. "Yes, sir," he mumbles, and Kawi feels the words all the way down to his toes. Maybe Max was wrong, in a way. Maybe he should actually make a new list with these things to explore later. Definitely later, though, because right now, he has another mission, and he squeezes Pisaeng’s hand that’s holding his to gather the courage to say it out loud.

"I want to blindfold you. And then I want you to let me explore you and figure out what I like," he rushes out, yet his tone holds a curious, tentative authority. It’s a little bit more bravado than genuine confidence, but still, he’s surprised by his own boldness, and it feels incredibly good to just say it, not keeping it in but revealing it for Pisaeng to understand.

Opposite him, Pisaeng’s lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, and Kawi feels his fingers digging into his skin as he shuffles even closer. And Kawi realises that, astoundingly, Pisaeng is into the idea, and Kawi is suddenly very into it, too, not just as a tool to help him figure himself out, but simply because now that he dares to imagine it, the idea of Pisaeng, blindfolded and at his mercy, is a maddening thought—to have this man, desired by so many, at the tips of his fingers, his to feel and taste to his own content.

"Yes, okay," Pisaeng finally says, nodding, already eager, and it fans the flames simmering in the pit of Kawi's stomach to know he wants this, too.

Their mouths find each other then, the motion so familiar now that it's effortless, almost practised, yet the thrill he feels at kissing Pisaeng will likely never run out. He's good at it—gentle but persistent, his lips soft but sure as they coax Kawi's mouth open to allow access for his tongue. And Kawi willingly gives in every single time, because this, kissing, is something he loves doing, something he could do for hours. And they have, rolling around on the bed, simply making out until their lips were swollen and red, and their dicks so hard they had to stop because Kawi wasn't ready for anything more. Now, though, as he starts to move Pisaeng the short distance over to the bed, he has a lot more than kissing in mind, even though he doesn't quite know yet what it actually is he's going to do.

Pisaeng's calves hit the edge of the bed, and with a gentle shove, Kawi makes him tumble backwards, Pisaeng catching himself on his elbows and immediately moving up the mattress until he's lying in the middle of the bed, his head cushioned on Kawi's favourite pillow. It's not the moment to complain about that, though.

Instead, Kawi slowly kneels down, his nerves coiling up, but he keeps scooting forward until he's sitting next to him, looking down at Pisaeng and into his deep, brown eyes, taking in the way his lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones and his wet hair falls over his brows.

He looks so trusting, so patient, and yet Kawi needs confirmation once more that what he's about to do is something Pisaeng wants, too. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asks around the nervous lump in his throat, his heart pumping so quickly that he can barely hear himself over the rushing of his own pulse.

"I’m sure," Pisaeng replies, giving him a gentle but reassuring smile before closing his eyes, waiting for Kawi to make the next move.

Slowly, he unrolls the tie in his hands, gently laying it over Pisaeng's eyes, his lashes fluttering against it at the contact before they're hidden from sight. Silently, Pisaeng raises his head, allowing Kawi to wrap the fabric around and twist it together at the back. His hands are shaking as he ties the knot, his fingers fumbling with the lustrous, cool silk, struggling a little to tighten it. Eventually, he decides to keep it loose like this in case Pisaeng wants to push it off; that’s only fair, he reasons, even though he’s not quite sure what the etiquette is here. When he's done, he gently places Pisaeng's head back onto the pillow, cupping his face and letting his fingers stroke over the soft skin behind his ears.

Pisaeng captures his wrists, turning his head to kiss the inside of his left one, his lips resting against Kawi’s racing pulse for a moment. He leans down to kiss him, just a soft, drawn-out press of his lips against Pisaeng’s, but it grounds him and makes him feel a little steadier as he entwines his hands with Pisaeng's to press them into the pillow next to his head. He sits up, Pisaeng rising up to chase his mouth, but Kawi puts his hand against his chest to press him firmly back into the mattress. And miraculously, Pisaeng moans and stays right there, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

There’s a moment where all he can think is "what now?" as he kneels next to Piseang on the bed, uncertain of what to do next, so he simply lets his eyes wander over his body, taking him in in a way he never really dared to before.

Pisaeng is almost naked next to him, his long, lean limbs spread out on the bed, and his fingers are already twisting into the sheets above his head, even though Kawi hasn’t even touched him yet. He’s a marvel; he always has been, naturally broad and toned, with endless planes of smooth skin, dusted with dark hair over his long, slender legs. But now that Kawi dares to really look at him, to study him fully, he sees the flaws, too: the stretch marks along his hips where he grew too fast, the scars on his knees from where he fell as a kid, the bit of chub on his lower stomach because he didn’t really work out in a while. Somehow, it makes him more beautiful, still, more real—not the perfect guy everyone gets to see, but the man only Kawi is allowed to witness. Pisaeng is his, Kawi's, and he’s suddenly, violently overcome with the need to touch him, to trace his curves and his lines, draw a map of the valleys of him, and commit it to memory.

"Kawi?" Pisaeng breathes out, and Kawi’s eyes snap up to his face again that's turned to the side as if to look at him with unseeing eyes.

"I’m here," he replies, his mouth and throat dry and his words coming out scratchy. He wants , so deeply that he feels it consuming him, yet his hands tremor when he reaches out, unsure where to place them, where it would feel good for him, torn between hiding in the comfort of giving—what he always does—and the challenge to take what he wants—what he set out to do.

"Please," comes a small, desperate voice from beside him, and Kawi’s chest clenches in response as the heat inside of him flares up, licking at his insides and burning away at his composure.

He rests his hand on Pisaeng’s stomach, in the dip between the bows of his ribs, and Pisaeng's breath catches in response, the muscle under Kawi's hand tensing. He looks at him again, at the way he has his head thrown back into the pillow, his neck exposed and vulnerable, the tendons there working as he swallows. Slowly, he moves his hand lower, just a bit, his touch still light and tentative, yet it makes Pisaeng's breath quicken, and when he puts his other hand on his chest, he can feel the racing of his heart and the rapid beating of it pulsing against his palm.

The angle is awkward, though, and he wants to be able to watch him, take in all of him at once, and in a second of bravery, he hikes his legs over Pisaeng's thighs to straddle them, sitting down just shy of his groin with a cautious type of certainty. He never really dared to do this, feeling too exposed at the mere thought of it, of the idea that Pisaeng could see all of him like this. But when Pisaeng rode him just a few nights ago, it was about the most exhilarating thing Kawi had ever experienced, and he had to close his eyes to maintain just a sliver of self-control. He wants to be like this, mindlessly chasing his own high, be able to abandon himself and even revel in the knowledge that his partner is looking at him, to arch his back the way Pisaeng did just because he knew he'd take Kawi's breath away with the motion.

For a moment, he lets the memories and the heat they elicit wash over him, before dragging his mind back to the present, his gaze wandering over Pisaeng's body and all the way down. He can see the outline of him through the grey terry cloth, tenting the towel that's the last barrier between them, but Kawi isn't ready for this yet. 

Instead, his hands find their way to his side, his fingers spreading over his heaving ribcage. He traces the path of his muscles and tendons, follows the lines of his ribs, then slides them over his stomach, mesmerised by the tightening abs beneath his hands and the way Pisaeng seems to fight to keep control as goosebumps break out over his skin, tiny pebbles spreading over his chest and stomach under Kawi's touch. He feels daring all of a sudden, letting the tips of his fingers run between the dips between his tense abs until they circle his navel, then letting his nails scratch through the coarse hair beneath it. He splays out his fingers again, slides them over to the sides of his stomach in a slow, deliberate drag, then brings them back together in the middle, his thumbs following the v-line on his hips with the motion where he knows Pisaeng is sensitive. He slides lower, still, until they tease the edge of the towel that's still covering him, letting his fingertips dip just a little bit below it, teasing along the edge of hair that's ticking against his skin. And in a moment of sheer wonder, he takes in the way Pisaeng's nipples harden under this light touch, watching the way his body so effortlessly reacts and betrays his arousal.

Tentatively, Kawi rests his hands on Pisaeng’s abdomen to steady himself and leans down over him, his mouth meeting the dip between his collarbones where water is pooling—if it’s still from the shower or the sweat already glistening on Pisaeng’s skin, Kawi isn’t sure. He kisses the peaks on each side, then lets his tongue dip into the valley between them, the taste of salt washing over his tongue as he laps it up. It's a little bit clumsy, but it elicits a deep groan from Pisaeng nonetheless. He looks up at him then, seeing the way his lips are parted and feeling how his chest is moving faster up and down beneath him now, and it emboldens him, making him dare to dive lower and let his lips run down his sternum and over his chest until they find the darkened, pebbled skin and let his tongue swirl around it. Above him, Pisaeng takes in a sharp breath, followed by a quiet, stifled moan, and the corners of Kawi’s lips twitch up with something like pride. He sinks his teeth into it, and Pisaeng’s hand shoots up to twist into his hair, his chest arching up to meet him, but just as quickly, Kawi grabs it and pushes it firmly back into the mattress, giving his wrist a squeeze to remind him to keep it there. They don’t speak, only their harsh, quick breaths filling the silence of the room, but Pisaeng nods and his hands hold on to the linen, his knuckles whitening with his grip.

It's a heady feeling to be in control like this, to see Pisaeng yield to him just because he asked him to, to know he's finding pleasure in this as well, even if Kawi barely thought that far ahead. In his mind, he merely wanted to explore, but now he feels the hunger build up, the desire to see and feel him, to claim him in a way he didn't dare before. Yet Pisang is letting him, asking him to with the way he writhes against the sheets, displaying himself for Kawi to take.

He sits back up, his hands finding their way to his hips again, back to where Pisaeng is hard and hot against Kawi's thigh, his fingers almost having a mind of their own as he strokes over his lengths, revelling in the high-pitched moan he's able to draw out. Kawi is insanely turned on by it, feeling himself grow to full hardness as he takes a tighter hold of Pisaeng, drawing the fabric taut and staring down at the outline. He knows what he feels like—the soft, smooth skin, the weight of him—and he's eager to feel it now, his hands abandoning their task and moving up to where the cloth is tucked in and secured.

"Can I take it off?" Kawi asks because Pisaeng always does before he undresses him, and it makes him feel safe, so he wants to return the favour. But at the same time, he's shaking with impatience.

"Yes, yes," Pisaeng groans out, nodding quickly, his hair getting even messier where it's splayed over the pillow. 

There's no finesse to it when Kawi tucks the edge of the towel out, hastily pushing it off his hips, his desire too pronounced to drag this out any longer. And then Pisaeng is completely naked, while Kawi remains fully clothed on top of him, allowing him to see everything while Pisaeng is engulfed by darkness.

It makes his head spin to know that Pisaeng is so willingly vulnerable with him, that he's trusting Kawi to not take advantage of it. Mesmerised, he takes him in his hand, watching his own hand stroke Pisaeng's dick, the way it twitches under his attention and wettens at the tip. He twists his wrist, lets his palm slide over the head, listening to Pisaeng's moans, his laboured breath, every miniscule reaction burning itself into his mind and prickling all over his body, his head feeling light and a little bit hazy.

"Can I touch you?" Pisaeng asks, his voice deep and raspy and his fingers twitching by his side.

"Not yet," Kawi says without thinking, and the frustrated whine Pisaeng lets out in response, and the way his hips rise up as if in reflex, pushing himself up into Kawi's hold, gives him a headrush.

He needs to be closer, feel him more intimately, needs release now that he's neglected his own desire for too long, so he lets go of Pisaeng to get rid of his shirt, throwing it carelessly across the room. Pisaeng groans in protest, his hips bucking up in search of friction, and Kawi is just as desperate for it, rising up to pull his pants down and almost tumbling over when he tries to untangle them from his legs. It must be instinct when Pisaeng's hands shoot up without even seeing him, there to steady him, holding onto his shoulders as Kawi kicks the jersey off his ankles. Or maybe he just knows how clumsy Kawi is.

A giggle falls from Kawi's mouth, laughing at his own eagerness and enthusiasm and at the pure joy he feels right now. Before him, Pisaeng chuckles, his thumbs rubbing circles into Kawi's clavicles.

"Everything alright?" He asks, one hand sliding up to Kawi's cheek, cupping his face.

Kawi nods in response, knowing Pisaeng can't see but feel it. He takes his hand that is warm against his skin, kisses the tips of his fingers one by one in reverence before placing them back on the sheets. Pisaeng lets out an annoyed groan, drawing another giggle from Kawi at his frustration.

"I know, I know. No touching," Pisaeng mumbles, pursing his lips and drawing his brows together in a pout. Kawi reaches out to smooth out the crease in his forehead, bending over him to kiss it, then down to brush their lips together, Pisaeng's breath warm against his mouth. He's insanely in love with this man.

Carefully, Kawi scoots closer again and crawls over Pisaeng's body, hovering over him as he deepens the kiss, letting his tongue dip into Pisaeng's mouth to taste him, his fingers sliding into his hair and twisting into the strands as he lowers himself until, finally, he's straddling Pisaeng’s waist. They both gasp at the contact, their kiss broken as they're panting into each other's mouths, sharing the same breath. Kawi grinds down, pressing himself against Pisaeng and feeling him against his groin, his hardness, and the soft curls surrounding it. He moves as if on instinct, his hips twitching and grinding on their own accord as his fingers tuck at Pisaeng's hair and his teeth sink into his bottom lip, his world narrowing down to sensation: 

Pisaeng’s skin underneath his palms, the drum of his heartbeat against his fingertips, the salt taste of his skin on his lips when he bends down to bite at his neck, the sound of his groan as he arches against him, his hips snapping up to meet Kawi's, and his fingers flexing next to his knees—a desperate attempt to remain in control.

"Touch me," Kawi finally tells him, a command more than a plea, his voice firm and sure even though it's broken by a gasp. But all of his control slips once Pisaeng moans and his fingers dig into his thighs, one sliding down to take them both in his hand while the other grabs his butt and pulls him impossibly closer. They’re moving against each other, any rhythm or finesse abandoned as Kawi just lets himself feel, allowing himself to drown in this, them, in Pisaeng’s voice calling his name and the messy slide of their lips, until a wave finally catches him and pulls him under, his blood rushing in his ears and his mind nothing but a blinding, white haze.

After, he slumps against Pisaeng’s chest, loose-limbed and spent, his breath impossible to catch. Pisaeng’s hands slide over his back, holding him steady as he trembles, the reality of what he just did catching up with him. A laugh startles out of him, and he feels Pisaeng pressing a smile against the top of his head, his face buried in the sweaty strands, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

"You’re so fucking hot," Pisaeng murmurs, slurred and unsteady. And for the first time, Kawi believes him.