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Mok didn’t know whether he should feel grateful or just throw himself out the window.
Grateful, yes, because the Arséni family had given him everything. But also fed up. Very fed up.
His boss, Theerakit Kian Lee, had been obsessed with Aran less than a day ago… and now he’d changed his mind and was fixated on a photographer: Peachayarat Janekit.
Mok didn’t dislike Peach; he seemed like a sensible young man. But Thee’s whims were pushing him to the edge of collapse.
The problem was that Thee had no intention of hiding his emotional chaos. He was sitting in his armchair, mesmerized by a soap opera, when suddenly he called Mok over as if he’d had a divine revelation.
Mok approached and straightened up.
—Yes, Mr. Thee.
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Thee ordered:
—Tell the channel to keep airing the same soap opera.
Mok nodded, used to ridiculous requests by now.
—Ah, and send a bouquet to Aran tomorrow.
—What flowers, sir?
—You choose. And put a card.
—…Yes, sir.
Thee smiled, still glued to the soap opera, adding with suspicious cheer:
—And for Peach, chocolate. The most expensive. The more bitter, the better. Make it peach-shaped.
The triumphant smile on Thee’s face shone as if he’d just done something incredibly clever.
Mok took a deep breath. A very deep breath.
Maybe even the saints were tired of him.
—Should I add a card too? —he asked, in the most neutral voice he could muster.
—Yes, but I’ll write it myself. —Thee puffed out his chest, proud—. “Do it yourself.” That’s what I’ll put. So clever.
Stupid, Mok wanted to say.
But for the sake of his job—and his sanity—he just gritted his teeth internally.
—Anything else, Mr. Theerakit? —he asked, with borrowed patience.
Thee finally looked away from the screen, as if it were a huge sacrifice, and stared at him with the same seriousness used to announce major news.
—Do it right away, okay? That’s all.
Mok nodded… though for a moment his eyes drifted back to the screen.
The actress was gazing at her love interest as dramatic violins swelled in the scene.
"Just hearing your name makes my heart beat…"
Mok tilted his head, almost amused.
—Which heart would beat just from a name? Right, boss? —he asked with a small smile, looking at Thee.
It was inevitable.
It was the first time—in all the years he’d worked for him—that his boss had decided to write a card himself.
A card that wasn’t about business.
That wasn’t a threat or protocol.
A card… for a photographer he’d met only hours ago.
Maybe it was too soon.
Ridiculously soon.
But Mok was almost certain: Theerakit Kian Lee was in love.
And even if that meant more chaos for him…
he couldn’t help but feel a little tenderness.
Mok carefully, still wearing that small smile, walked out of the room. He closed the door gently behind him, as if he didn’t want to break the strange moment he had just witnessed.
But as soon as he turned on his heels, the smile vanished.
The hallway was empty.
Completely empty.
Not a single guard, normally stationed at the entrance.
No deep voices echoing in the background.
No sound of boots or radios.
Nothing.
Mok frowned.
Weird. Too weird.
Thee never left his room unguarded, not even when watching a dramatic soap or in one of his chaotic moods. Security was an absolute priority.
Mok stepped forward cautiously, eyes scanning the silent hallway.
The familiar alertness—engrained in him long before working for the Arséni family—kicked in immediately.
Something was off.
He slid his hand to his waist and drew his gun with precise, almost automatic movements.
But just then, he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind.
Instinct took over.
In a swift motion, Mok grabbed the wrists, spun the person around, and slammed them against the wall, aiming at their throat before they could breathe.
And when he saw who it was… he froze.
Then let go immediately.
—Khun Rome… what are you doing here? You should be in Russia! —Mok exclaimed, shocked, heart racing. God… the Arséni family was going to kill him one day.
Kritdanai Rome Arséni, Thee’s younger brother and… well, his “boyfriend.” Though, truthfully, he wasn’t much different from his capricious older brother. Just younger, prettier, and more dangerous in other ways.
Rome brought a hand dramatically to his chest, feigning offense.
—Ohhh, Mok, I come to see my boyfriend and this is how you greet me… how cruel of my boyfriend.
Mok closed his eyes for a second.
Not a single Arséni could act normal. Not one.
—Khun Rome —he said, lowering his gun, still breathing heavily—, I almost shot you.
Rome smiled, completely self-satisfied, as if that had been part of the plan.
—That’s why I like you so much —he murmured, stepping closer than necessary, eyes sparkling—. Because nobody could nearly kill me with such elegance.
Mok felt his soul leave his body.
And he still had to deliver flowers, chocolates, cards, and now… explain that Rome Arséni had just appeared in Bangkok unannounced.
His day had just gotten three times more complicated.
—You’re supposed to be in Russia with your father —Mok said, trying to regain composure—. What are you doing here? I should tell Mr. Thee.
Mok turned to head back to Thee’s room, but didn’t make it two steps.
Rome grabbed his wrist and hugged him from behind, pressing close as if Mok were his personal refuge.
—You didn’t even greet me properly and you’re already going to Phi Kian… —he murmured, in a hurt tone he knew how to wield—. He’s not going to die for not seeing me.
He buried his forehead between Mok’s shoulder blades, as if that were his natural place.
—I came to see you —he whispered—. Is that wrong?
Mok felt his whole body tense.
Not out of rejection.
Out of fear.
Out of responsibility.
Out of how completely Rome disarmed him with a single phrase.
—Khun Rome… —he said softly, trying to sound firm—. You can’t just show up like this. Without warning. Your family will come looking for you. And if Mr. Thee finds out…
—Ay, Mok… —Rome tightened his arms around his waist, almost leaning his full weight on him—. Stop calling everyone by their titles when we’re alone. I missed you, you know?
Mok closed his eyes.
Yes, his day had just gotten three times more complicated.
And his heart too.
—At least tell me you didn’t run away from Russia and that your father let you come —Mok said, turning his head slightly, trying to look at him—. I don’t want more trouble. I still have Thee’s errands to do. And they’re quite a few.
Rome pressed his cheek to Mok’s back, moving like a cat seeking affection.
—Mok… —he dragged his name out in that tone that always weakened his knees—. I didn’t run away. Well… not completely.
Mok frowned. His heart skipped half a beat.
—What do you mean, “not completely,” Khun Rome?
—It means… —Rome made an invisible pout at the nape of his neck— that I told my father I needed “air.” And he let me be absent from training. He didn’t ask where I was going. Technically… I’m not lying.
—Rome… —Mok could already feel the migraine creeping in.
—Also —Rome continued, with no guilt at all—, you’re part of my priorities too. I came to check if you’re okay.
—I’m fine —Mok replied, trying to sound dry, but Rome knew him too well.
—No —Rome whispered—. You’re not fine. You have that voice… the voice of “my boss is pushing me to the edge but I endure because I’m perfect.”
Mok almost snorted through his nose.
Since when did Rome read him so easily?
Rome squeezed him gently, warmly, confidently.
—Let me stay with you a little. Just a little. Before Phi Kian starts yelling for me.
Mok sighed.
Between flowers for Aran, chocolates for Peach, incomprehensible cards, and his runaway-from-Russia boyfriend… yes, his life was a mess.
But one he, for some reason, wanted to protect.
—Why does every Arséni have to be dramatic? —Mok muttered, unable to help himself.
Rome behind him let out a soft chuckle, the one that always disarmed him a little.
—It’s genetics, love —he replied, as if it were an undeniable scientific fact—. Drama, beauty, and money. They come together. A full package.
Mok rolled his eyes.
—I prefer if you stick to just the first part —he replied, with gentle irony.
—The drama?
—Yes. The drama. It’s the only part you really can’t avoid.
Rome pressed his lips, briefly, to Mok’s neck. A short, innocent touch. But enough to send a pleasurable shiver down Mok’s spine.
—If you weren’t dramatic… —he whispered, low, almost vulnerable—. You wouldn’t be here with me. I wouldn’t have run all the way from Russia just to hug you like this.
Mok clenched his teeth, trying not to betray his heart.
—Rome… you’re making this very difficult.
—I know —Rome said, smiling against his skin—. But so are you, Mok. Because you always welcome me… even when you say you shouldn’t.
Mok exhaled. Deeply.
A strong, disciplined man, defeated by a hug.
—Five minutes —he finally conceded—. Then you go greet your brother before he thinks you’ve been kidnapped.
Rome smiled so brightly Mok could almost feel it.
—Five minutes… and a kiss —he bargained brazenly.
Mok closed his eyes.
Definitely, the Arséni family was going to kill him.
But Rome came first.
—Five minutes —he repeated firmly—. And if you ask for more, I’m going to Thee.
Rome opened his eyes as if Mok had just threatened to send him straight to Siberia.
—That’s low, Mok! —he exclaimed, pressing closer to his waist, dangerously dramatic—. How can you use my older brother as a weapon?
Mok raised an eyebrow.
—It works, doesn’t it?
Rome looked offended… but delighted. It was the kind of expression that shone between theatrical annoyance and sincere admiration.
—You’re cruel to me —he whispered, as if his heart was about to break—. Beautiful, but cruel.
Mok exhaled, amused despite himself.
—Four minutes and fifty seconds —he warned.
—You’re already counting down! —Rome shook him slightly, indignant.
—You’re wasting time.
Rome froze for a moment, looking at him with eyes that always managed to destabilize his soul.
And then, with a softness that contrasted with all his usual drama, he murmured:
—Give me a kiss before our… minutes are up.
Mok swallowed.
Of course.
The Arséni family would kill him.
But Rome came first.
—I’m working —he said, putting his glasses back on with military precision—. I’m not going to kiss my boss’s brother.
He adjusted his black gloves, straightened up, and returned to “professional mode” in two seconds.
—Hurry up —he added—. You’ve got four minutes and forty seconds left. And I still have to choose a bouquet. What flowers should you give a model?
Rome, already dramatic by nature, frowned so hard it was practically sculpted.
—What do you mean, a model? —he stepped forward, arms crossed—. Don’t you love me anymore? Or why are you giving flowers to a model?
Mok looked at him steadily.
—Rome…
—Don’t call me Rome like that! —he huffed, now clearly irritated—. What model? Why flowers? Why you? Why now? Why while I’m hugging you?
Mok inhaled deeply.
So many bullets he had dodged in life.
So many mafiosos.
So many dangerous Arséni men.
And yet… nothing had prepared him for the childish jealousy of Kritdanai Rome Arséni.
—They’re not my flowers —he finally clarified—. They’re your brother’s. For Aran.
Rome blinked once.
Twice.
But he didn’t stay still for long.
—And who’s that? —he asked, leaning closer, eyes narrowed—. Is he prettier than me?
Mok looked at him with a calm that only held because he had spent years training it.
—Rome…
—No, no, no —Rome pointed a finger at him, dramatic—. Answer me. Is he prettier than me? Just say yes or no. If you say yes, I’ll go back to Russia immediately.
Mok raised an eyebrow.
—You’re not going back to Russia, not even if your father ties you to a plane.
Rome crossed his arms, offended.
—That doesn’t answer the question!
Mok exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was negotiating with a bomb about to explode.
—Rome… Aran is a model. Obviously he’s handsome.
Rome opened his mouth.
Shock.
Pain.
Betrayal.
Emotional catastrophe in 3… 2…
—“Obviously handsome”? —he repeated, clutching his chest—. You say “obviously”! You never say “obviously” to me!
Mok almost laughed. Almost.
But he held himself back.
—Rome, you are… Arséni.
Rome looked at him, confused.
—What does that mean?
—It means you guys come programmed to be handsome —Mok replied with absolute seriousness—. It’s unfair to compare you to a normal model.
Rome blinked.
His chest puffed out.
His ego too.
—Ah… well —he said, regaining his color—. That makes sense.
—Done with the drama? —Mok asked.
Rome pressed against him again like a clingy koala.
—Depends —he murmured against his shoulder—. Are you going to keep telling me I’m prettier than everyone?
—You have four minutes and twenty seconds left —Mok repeated.
Rome smiled, fully satisfied, with that dangerously charming air he seemed to have inherited equally from his actress mother and mafia father.
—I’m the son of an actress and a mafia boss —he declared, chin lifted—. You can’t expect me not to be dramatic and terrifying.
Mok looked at him for barely a second, with just enough patience to avoid pushing him out of the mansion.
—I’m your boyfriend, right? I already know what to expect from you —he replied, adjusting his black gloves with a calm nobody else could maintain around Rome.
—Mok, please… I can always say something worse —Rome said, proud, as if it were a special skill.
Mok exhaled.
—You’re wasting time. Four minutes and ten seconds —he repeated—. And you wanted a kiss?
Rome stepped closer, invading his space with the precision of someone who knows all of his limits… and exactly how to ignore them.
—I want it all, love. The kiss comes in the package.
Mok almost smiled. Almost.
—When I finish choosing the flowers for your imaginary model, maybe.
—Imaginary? No, he exists —Rome said.
Mok shot him a look that could kill.
—Three minutes and fifty seconds. And if you keep this up, I’ll send you straight to Thee.
Rome brought a hand to his chest.
—Betrayal… in my own territory!
Mok shook his head, resigned and in love at the same time.
—You treat time like you have plenty —he muttered, letting the complaint sound softer than intended.
He glanced around once more; the hallway remained strangely empty, silent, as if someone—or something—had decided to gift them those seconds.
Then, without another word, he removed his glasses with a swift motion, grabbed Rome by the collar, and pulled him in with a decisiveness that left Rome breathless.
And he kissed him.
Rome barely had time to smile against his mouth before surrendering completely to that unexpected, trembling, urgent kiss—one that tasted of both permission and punishment. His hand instinctively slid to Mok’s waist, holding him as if those seconds were worth gold.
The world was a silent, empty hallway.
And Mok, for once, stopped counting the time.
As their lips moved in unison in a frenzied dance, Rome's hand slid down Mok's waist, caressing his buttocks through his tight pants. He squeezed gently, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse their bodies into one.
Mok moaned during the kiss, feeling Rome's hardness against him. His own member stiffened, pressing against the fabric of his pants.
When they broke the kiss, both were panting heavily, their foreheads touching.
"Fuck, I needed that," Rome exclaimed, his voice ragged, his eyes glazed with desire.
Mok nodded, still reeling from the sudden intensity of the moment. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from the back of Rome's neck, his fingers tracing the warm skin of his lover. “Two minutes and forty seconds left,” Mok recalled, his voice low and husky, still trying to regain the control that Rome always snatched away without even trying.
Rome smiled against his skin, as if that were the most romantic answer Mok could give him.
“Are you still going to tell me the time?” he whispered, kissing his cheek, then his jawline. “And if we forget about Thee… and go to your room… I’ve missed you so much. And from what I can see, you’ve missed me too.”
Mok closed his eyes for a second. God. Yes, he had missed him.
Yes, he wanted to take him to his room.
Yes, he wanted to forget Thee, the flowers, the card, the novel, the empty hallway, everything.
But he couldn’t.
“Rome…” he whispered, opening his eyes and resting his forehead against the mobster’s. “I can’t. Not now. I have too many responsibilities to fulfill.” If Thee finds out you're here and I disappeared with you… she'll kill me. And then she'll kill you. And then she'll kill me again.
Rome twisted his lips, still holding him, still too close, still smelling too good.
"Responsibilities, yes… but there are other things you need to do too, darling," Rome murmured, snuggling into Mok's neck as his hands roamed his back, savoring the feel of his lover's body beneath his touch. "Like taking care of you. And right now, all I can think about is undressing you and penetrating you deeply."
Mok shuddered at Rome's words, his resolve wavering under the onslaught of desire. He knew he shouldn't, but the growing tension between them was impossible to ignore.
Rome let out a low, dark chuckle, his warm breath brushing against Mok's skin like a dangerous caress.
"Please, darling?" “Tell me what you need,” he murmured, barely brushing his lips along the line of Mok’s neck. “Give me twenty more minutes and I can make you feel good, okay? It’ll be quick, I swear.”
Mok felt an immediate, irrational urge to agree.
Twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes with Rome were enough to forget the world… and to lose his job, his peace of mind, and probably half his lifespan.
He pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath, trying not to let Rome manipulate him with that soft voice and that warmth that ran down his spine.
“I don’t need that right now,” Mok lied with all the dignity he could muster.
Rome laughed again, softly, provocatively.
“Mm… yes, you do. I’m sorry.” He kissed the edge of Mok’s jaw, right where he knew Mok went weak, and with his free hand touched Mok’s erection through his clothes, making him gasp in surprise. “It’s pretty obvious you need me.”
Mok closed his eyes for a moment.
Good heavens.
Why did he have to love someone who knew exactly where to squeeze to disarm him?
"Rome…" he whispered, placing a firm hand on his waist, more to push him away than to pull him closer. "I told you five minutes, not twenty-five."
"Five isn't enough for anything."
"It is for me," Mok replied, though his voice trembled slightly. "And… you've already used half of it trying to corrupt me."
Rome smiled, satisfied, as if every second of Mok's loss of control was a personal victory.
"Then I'd better make the most of what's left, right?" he whispered before brushing his lips against Mok's, tempting, slow, soft. "Because when I leave again… you're going to regret not asking for twenty."
And the problem, Mok thought as his hands instinctively gripped Rome's back,
was that he was probably right.
As Rome's lips brushed against Mok's, he felt surrender inexorably drawing him in. Every argument, every protest, vanished beneath the skillful caress of his lover's mouth. Five minutes stretched into an eternity; each passing second, a countdown to inevitable defeat.
Rome's hand slid lower, possessively squeezing the bulge in Mok's pants.
"You're so hard already," he purred, his hot breath against Mok's ear. "I could make you come right here, right now, and you'd beg me for more."
Mok stifled a groan, his breath catching in his throat as his body reacted before his mind could. His hips moved treacherously, seeking more warmth than he should allow, more closeness than he could afford.
"Stop…" he managed to whisper, though it sounded more like a plea than a command.
His fingers dug into Rome's shoulders, not to draw him in, but to stop him. Or to stop himself.
Rome barely lifted his head, his lips still dangerously close to Mok's.
He had that smile.
That damned smile that said, "I know exactly how I make you feel."
"Are you sure?" he asked softly, gently, as if he weren't intentionally disarming him.
Mok took a deep breath, trying to regain control, trying to remember how to speak, how to function, how to be a normal person when Rome touched him.
"…Yes," he whispered, though he didn't sound convincing at all.
He swallowed, looking away for a second to avoid meeting those eyes that could ruin him completely. I'm working, Rome. I can't… I shouldn't…
Rome rested his forehead against Mok's, caressing his waist with a gentleness that didn't help matters at all.
"But you want to."
Mok closed his eyes, clenching his jaw.
The worst part was, he was right.
He was always right when it came to him.
"That doesn't matter," he murmured, his voice tense. "I can't now. Not here."
Rome slid a hand down his back, slowly, patiently, almost tenderly.
"Okay," he whispered, finally loosening his grip. "I'll listen." He paused, and his smile returned, softer, more dangerous.
"But don't expect me to give up so easily when my other five minutes are up."
And Mok knew that, with him, five minutes would never be enough.
“Go to Thee’s… I’ll go to my room and run the errands,” Mok said, trying to compose himself, now with a huge erection straining against his trousers.
He put his glasses back on, sighed deeply, and tried to regulate his breathing, reminding himself that there were still flowers to choose, chocolates to send, and cards to deliver.
Mok watched Rome walk away, his steps confident and determined despite the underlying tension between them. He couldn’t help but admire Rome’s broad back, the way his black suit clung to his powerful physique.
He walked toward his room, glancing at the arrangements, but his mind wandered once more to Rome’s provocative caresses and passionate whispers.
The memory of their lips meeting, so intense and hungry, made his member twitch once more in his trousers. He bit his lip, wishing the desire would subside.
Back in his room, he tried to focus on the bouquets, the colors, which flowers would be suitable for a model. But every time he chose a white rose or a lily, his thoughts inevitably returned to Rome, to the softness of her skin, to the warmth she left behind with every touch.
"Which flowers will be your favorites, eh, Khun Rome?" Mok murmured to himself, resting an elbow on the table and running a hand over his face.
He imagined Rome receiving the bouquet, the way his smile would light up his eyes, the way he would tilt his head to smell them, and a slight warmth rose in his chest.
"Maybe… something elegant, something that suits him," he continued thinking. "Orchids, yes, or tulips… something that says 'sophisticated but not boring.'"
Mok sighed, and although he tried to concentrate on the arrangements, his thoughts inevitably returned to the feeling of Rome embracing him, their fingers intertwined, and the touch impossible to ignore.
"Although… anything that gives him a reason to smile… maybe that will be enough," he murmured, carefully selecting the colors and shapes, trying, in vain, to push his mind away from the memories and desires Rome had left within him.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face, exhaling air heavy with both frustration and amusement. “Flowers, done… now for the chocolate…” he muttered, almost to himself. “God, Theerakit Kian Lee, you have so many suitors…”
He slumped into the chair in front of the selection of chocolates, eyeing the shiny, expensive wrappers as if they were petty enemies. Each choice seemed more complicated than the last: it had to be bittersweet and peach-shaped… and with the unspoken obligation that it had to be perfect for Peachayarat Janekit.
Mok rolled his eyes and muttered with a hint of irony,
“Why can’t she just give them a bouquet and be done with it? Why does everything have to be so dramatic?”
After a few hours, he managed to finish his orders: carefully selected flowers, impeccably wrapped chocolates, cards ready with the perfect message.
Mok slumped into the chair, exhausted but satisfied. His shoulders slowly relaxed as he loosened his tie, releasing the pressure that had been tightening around his neck all day. With a deep sigh, he undid the top buttons of his shirt slightly, letting the cool air brush against his skin and help soothe the heat Rome had ignited within him without even touching him again.
He leaned back slightly, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure. Every muscle in his body seemed to remember Rome's touch, the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his presence… and Mok knew there was no way to erase it from his mind, even if he wanted to.
"Damn it…" he muttered to himself, somewhere between frustrated and amused. "How can one person disarm you like that without even trying?"
But, despite everything, a small smile touched his lips. Because even if Rome drove him crazy, Mok wouldn't change a second about that.
Mok opened his eyes, a wry smile playing on his lips as he acknowledged the lingering pain between his legs. Three hours had passed, and yet the evidence of Rome's effect remained, stubbornly present.
He adjusted himself discreetly, trying not to draw attention to the prominent bulge in his pants. With a sigh, he stood up and began walking toward his bathroom, his mind already imagining how to relieve the tension that consumed him.
Upon entering, he caught a fleeting glimpse of himself in the mirror: flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and a noticeable erection. He removed his shirt and headed for the shower.
Under the warm spray of the shower, Mok closed his eyes and let out a trembling sigh as the water cascaded over his hot skin. His fingers found their way to his erect member, encircling it with a moan of desire. He stroked it slowly, reveling in the silky texture of his penis as it throbbed in his hands.
Memories of Rome's skillful touch flooded his mind: the way those strong hands had squeezed his buttocks. Mok's breath caught in his throat, his hips moving instinctively against his fist as he imagined Rome's face above him, lips parted and eyes burning with desire.
"Damn it, Rome...!" he gasped, quickening the pace of his thrusts.
He pictured Rome kneeling before him, tongue peeping out to lick the drops of pre-seminal fluid forming at the tip of his penis.
Mok's imagination ran wild as he pictured Rome kneeling, gazing at him with those piercing dark eyes. Rome's warm breath brushed against Mok's sensitive skin, sending shivers down his spine. Those full lips, so close to where he needed them most...
With a groan, Mok inserted two fingers into his anus, opening himself up as he continued to stroke his aching member. He moved his hips, stimulating his fingers in time with the thrusts of his fist. The double sensation was almost unbearable.
In his imagination, Rome's tongue swirled around Mok's anus, exploring and teasing until it penetrated the muscular ring and slipped inside. Mok cried out, bracing himself with his free hand against the tiled wall as he struggled to maintain his balance amidst the overwhelming pleasure.
Mok was lost in his fantasy, furiously thrusting his fingers into his dilated anus while stroking his throbbing member. He was so engrossed in the vivid images that he didn't hear the door open behind him.
"Fuck, Mok...!" The deep, husky voice sent an electric shock through him.
Mok's eyes snapped open, and he saw Rome standing in the steamy bathroom, a ravenous expression etched on his face. Drops of water clung to Mok's skin, glistening in the dim light.
For a moment, they stared at each other, the tension in the air thick with unspoken desire. Then, without a word, Rome quickly stripped off his clothes and walked slowly toward his boyfriend.
Mok's heart pounded as Rome's intense gaze locked onto him, reveling in the sight of his lover lost in pleasure. Without a word, Rome moved with predatory grace, closing the distance between them until he was right behind Mok.
A large hand settled on Mok's hip, its fingers digging in possessively as Rome pulled him closer, pressing him firmly against his body. Mok felt Rome's hardness pressing insistently against his rear, heat radiating from his skin like a brand.
Rome's other hand encircled Mok's erect member in a firm grip that made him gasp. His fingers tightened, stroking it in time with Mok's frantic rhythm.
"You didn't expect me to catch you like this, did you?" Rome growled, his voice husky and whispering into Mok's ear as he continued to stroke the slick penis with his fist. "Thought you could indulge your fantasies in private?"
His other hand slid lower, his fingertips brushing against Mok's dilated entrance, following the trail of his earlier self-stimulation. Mok moaned, his hips involuntarily arching against Rome's touch.
“You were enjoying it, weren’t you?” Rome accused, his hot breath on the back of Mok’s neck. “Getting turned on just thinking about my tongue in your ass, my lips around your cock…”
He punctuated each obscene word with a flick of his wrist, squeezing Mok’s member almost to the point of pain.
“Tell me, baby, did you imagine it was really me here with you?”
Mok gasped as Rome’s fingers explored his entrance, but instead of giving in to the touch, he turned his head to nibble hard at Rome’s jaw.
“Maybe so,” he gasped, his voice low and sensual. “Maybe I wanted to imagine you watching me, judging me for masturbating.”
Mok arched his hips against Rome’s grip, his member throbbing with anticipation.
“But if you’re really here, why don’t you show me what you’ve got instead of just fantasizing about it?” “—Mok challenged, his eyes flashing with defiance as his body trembled with desire.
He leaned back further, arching his back to give Rome a better view of his wet, eager hole.
So go ahead, Rome. Show me what you’ve got.”
Rome’s eyes flashed with primal desire at Mok’s audacious challenge. He released Mok’s cock with one last provocative squeeze and turned him to face the wall.
“Not so fast, baby,” he whispered huskily, pressing Mok’s chest against the cold tiles. “Before I bury my face in that sweet ass, I want to taste every drop of your cum.”
His hands roamed over Mok's body, pinching a nipple, moving down to caress his testicles.
"I want to taste you, feel you tremble as you surrender to me." Rome nibbled Mok's shoulder, easing the sting with a lick. "So you're going to stay still and let me enjoy this, understand?" With that, he dropped to his knees, his hot breath brushing against Mok's trembling orifice.
Rome's tongue slid in, licking Mok's cleft with slow, deliberate strokes, circling his throbbing entrance. Mok's head fell back, a guttural moan escaping his throat as he felt that expert muscle exploring, teasing.
"Fuck, yes!" Mok exclaimed, digging his fingers into the tiles as he struggled to maintain his balance amidst the onslaught of pleasure. "Like that... Don't stop."
Rome complied, his tongue penetrating deeper, overcoming the initial resistance to slide into Mok's intense heat. Mok's back arched, his hips rocking back with each thrust of that mischievous tongue. The sensation was overwhelming, almost painful, but in the best possible way.
"That's it, take it all."
Mok's cry echoed in the bathroom as he rubbed himself against Rome's face, his member throbbing with the need to ejaculate.
"Kritdanai, please!" he begged desperately. "I can't... I'm going to..."
Rome redoubled his efforts, sucking on Mok's anus and penetrating him with his tongue. The additional stimulation proved to be the final straw. With a hoarse cry, Mok collapsed, his orgasm engulfing him like wildfire.
Thick jets of semen splattered the tiles, some even reaching Rome's cheek as he continued licking Mok's throbbing anus. Despite this, Rome maintained his relentless pace, determined to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from his lover.
When Mok's climax subsided, he lowered his hand to tangle his fingers in Rome's hair, gripping the damp strands tightly.
"That's enough," he gasped, his chest heaving with exertion. "I think you've had enough fun for now."
Despite his words, Mok's thighs trembled, still sensitive from his intense orgasm. He knew he wasn't ready for Rome to stop touching him just yet.
"But don't think this means you're getting away easily," he warned, his tone playful. "This isn't over."
With that, Mok turned to Rome, a seductive smile playing on his lips as he gestured for him to stand.
"Now it's my turn to return the favor," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Mok knelt before Rome, his hands tracing the other man's muscular thighs as he gazed at him with half-closed eyes.
"Let me taste you," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.
Without waiting for a response, Mok leaned down and slid his tongue along Rome's shaft, from base to tip. He savored the salty taste of pre-seminal fluid, moaning softly with pleasure. Then, he cupped his lips around the head and gently sucked, circling the sensitive glans with his tongue.
"Mmm, you taste so good," Mok murmured against Rome's skin, his breath hot and wet. He began to move his head up and down, taking more of Rome's penis into his mouth with each movement. His hands gripped Rome's buttocks, pulling him closer as he struggled to penetrate him deeply.
Rome's reaction was immediate and visceral. A guttural groan escaped his throat as Mok's warm, wet mouth enveloped him. His fingers tangled in Mok's hair, guiding him further, urging him to take more.
"Fuck, Mok!" Rome gasped, his hips thrusting forward on their own.
"Your mouth feels incredible..."
As Mok continued to suck and lick, Rome began to lose control. His penis throbbed in Mok's mouth, and the first drops of precum leaked out, coating Mok's tongue. Rome squeezed Mok's hair tighter, and his head fell back as he lost himself in the pleasure of Mok's caresses.
“If your colleagues could see you now,” Rome gasped, his voice hoarse with excitement, “if they could see their boss’s right-hand man, sucking my cock… if they could see how good you look with your mouth on my penis… Do you like this, baby?”
Rome’s words were a mixture of teasing and encouragement, his accent intensifying with passion. He reveled in the power dynamic, knowing he held Mok’s pleasure in his hands. And judging by the eagerness with which Mok was attending to him, Rome was pleased to discover that he, in fact, enjoyed this role reversal.
Mok hummed in response, and the vibrations sent a pleasurable tingle through Rome’s member. He redoubled his efforts, sucking harder and faster, desperate to bring Rome to climax.
Rome’s self-control snapped like a frayed rope before the force of his impending orgasm. With a hoarse roar, he thrust forward, his penis hitting the back of Mok's throat as he collapsed.
A thick spurt of semen erupted from its tip, coating Mok's tongue and the back of his mouth in scorching heat. Rome's hips jerked erratically, gripping Mok's hair tightly, almost hurting it, as he experienced the waves of his climax.
Finally, with a shuddering gasp, Rome's limp member slid from Mok's lips. He slumped against the wall, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
Mok stood, his eyes fixed on Rome's flushed face as he approached. Rome, still panting, looked up at him with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity.
"Well?" Mok asked with a sly grin. "Are you going to let me ride that impressive cock of yours, or do I have to beg?"
She knelt again, but this time, instead of taking Rome's penis in her mouth, she kissed the tip, sticking out her tongue to taste the trace of her own saliva mingled with Rome's essence.
"I want to feel you inside me again," Mok murmured in a low, persuasive voice. "Fill me up and show me who's in charge here."
Roma's expression softened, a tender smile replacing the lascivious glint in her eyes. She reached out to caress Mok's face, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone.
"My love," she whispered, her voice full of affection. "I could fill you a thousand times and you'd still be in control. Your desires, your needs, always come first for me."
She helped Mok to his feet and pulled him close for a deep, passionate kiss. When they finally broke apart, Roma's gaze was intense, filled with adoration and longing.
“I missed you too,” he admitted, his voice breaking with emotion. “More than you can imagine. Now, let’s go to bed. I want to feel your weight on me, lose myself in your warmth and your scent.”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Mok took Rome’s hand and led him toward the bedroom with a confident, purposeful stride. Once inside, he turned to Rome with a sly smile on his lips.
Mok wasted no time in claiming what was rightfully his. He grabbed Rome’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress, straddling his lover’s hips with a triumphant grin.
“Now let’s see who’s in charge here,” Mok teased, his voice commanding. He rubbed his backside against Rome’s already hard erection, reveling in the sensation of being desired so intensely.
Mok reached between them, grasped Rome’s member, and positioned it at his entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, he lowered himself, taking Rome deep inside him with a groan of satisfaction.
"Ah, yes... Perfect," Mok purred, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he settled himself atop Rome's thick member. He began to move his hips, setting a steady, intense rhythm that left Rome panting and arching beneath him.
Rome's hands roamed over Mok's bare back, his fingers sinking into the smooth skin as he gazed in wonder at the expanse of his chest. "Oh my God, I love these gorgeous pecs," he groaned, his thumbs brushing against Mok's nipples, making them harden beneath his touch.
Rome's gaze traveled down, reveling in the sight of Mok's toned abdomen, the subtle indentation of his navel, the tantalizing V that sloped down to his expectant buttocks. "Every inch of you is pure perfection, my love," Rome praised, his voice thick with desire.
Mok's rhythm intensified, his hips thrusting forward in time with Rome's rising strokes. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with his ragged breaths and husky moans.
Rome's hands slid down to squeeze Mok's buttocks, kneading his firm balls as he guided his movements. "That's it, take what you need," he encouraged, his voice tense with pleasure. "Use me, fill me up..."
Their bodies moved in perfect sync, each thrust bringing them closer to climax. Mok's inner walls contracted around Rome's throbbing penis, heralding his imminent orgasm.
With one last powerful thrust, Mok sank to the bottom, his orgasm engulfing him like a giant wave.
Rome followed Mok into ecstasy, reaching his own climax as Mok's velvety walls contracted around him. He threw his head back, a hoarse cry escaping his throat as jet after jet of his semen pumped into Mok's spasmodic canal.
The intensity of their shared pleasure left them both breathless and trembling. Slowly, Rome's hips stopped, his already limp member still nestled in Mok's warmth.
Mok leaned forward, resting his forehead against Rome's, their chests heaving in unison.
"I need to clean you up," Rome murmured, kissing his cheeks.
Mok tilted his head, letting Rome gently guide him to the towel he had prepared. Their fingers barely touched as he took it, and a small, nervous laugh escaped Mok.
"Always so meticulous," he whispered, as Rome delicately dried every inch, as if afraid of breaking something fragile inside him.
Rome smiled, his breath still slightly ragged, and brought his forehead close to Mok's again.
“I just want you to be okay… that you’re not in any pain,” he said gently, his voice filled with care and affection.
Mok placed a hand on his chest, feeling both of their heartbeats racing.
“Too late, I can’t feel my legs anymore,” he murmured, his laugh weak and broken by exhaustion.
Rome looked at him tenderly, a spark of amusement in his eyes, and helped him lie down on the bed, supporting him gently.
“Then let me hold you,” he said, carefully pulling him close.
“What did Thee say when he saw you?” Mok asked, resting his head on Rome’s shoulder, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Rome tilted his head, thoughtful, a playful smile playing on his lips.
“Ohhh… not much,” he replied, with that disarming calmness that always charmed him. “he just gave me a strange look, like he knew something was wrong, but she didn’t say anything.”
Mok raised an eyebrow, trying to guess whether "he said nothing" meant silent chaos or contained disaster.
"He didn't say anything to me... or is that what 'not much' means?" he asked, his voice half incredulous, half amused.
Rome shrugged and rested his cheek against Mok's head.
"I think he was more worried about you staying with me than anything else. Although, yeah… he probably thought I'd escaped from Russia, like always," he said, with a mischievous tone that Mok knew all too well.
Mok sighed, a mixture of exasperation and tenderness in his voice.
"My boyfriend's a spoiled brat, that's the problem," he murmured, resting his forehead against Rome's chest.
Rome chuckled softly, his nose brushing against Rome's hair.
"Spoiled? Me?" he asked, feigning offense, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Never!"
Mok glanced at him sideways, a small, crooked smile playing on his lips.
"Yeah, you… you always get what you want just by looking, sighing, or pouting."
Rome puffed out his cheeks dramatically, as if Mok had just insulted his entire being. “That’s not true!” he protested, though his voice softened as he felt Mok pull him closer. “I just… have a natural talent for being pampered.”
Mok rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as he hugged him tighter.
“Let’s just rest for a while… didn’t you say you missed me? Then hold me, your brother is driving me crazy,” he whispered, resting his head on Rome’s chest.
Rome smiled, letting Mok snuggle closer, and carefully wrapped his arms around his waist, as if afraid that a sudden movement would break the spell of the moment.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice soft and warm. “I missed you so much. So much.”
Mok closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Rome’s body envelop him, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.
“Then stay here,” he murmured. “Just for a while… without talking about anything else.”
Rome rested his cheek against Mok's hair and nodded, smiling against his head.
"Nothing else... just us."
"That sounds perfect," Mok replied, managing a relaxed smile for the first time all day.
They stayed like that, in silence, listening to each other's heartbeats and feeling the world fade away for a moment. Every hug, every sigh, every gentle touch of hands or cheek seemed to stop time.
Rome brushed his lips against Mok's forehead, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down his spine.
"I promise I won't let go," he whispered. "Not even for five minutes."
Mok smiled against his chest, letting that promise fill him with calm.