Chapter Text
North and Dao had grown inseparable as the semesters rolled by. They made an unlikely pair—North, the whirlwind of messy charm and endless energy, and Dao, the quiet yet sharp companion who balanced him out in ways neither of them fully understood.
It was Dao who had came up with the idea of starting an arcade together. North had jumped on instantly, thrilled by the idea of doing something exciting and different. Yeah, since he started dating. Johan had assured him he didn’t need to work at all, but the endless loop between university classes and the penthouse they shared monotony was wearing him off. Dao, too, was starting to feel the weight of routine. Though he wasn’t exactly the hardworking type, the approaching end of their final semesters made him crave a distraction—something to make his days feel alive again.
Their "office", if one could even call it that, was a reflection of their shared love for all things fun and nostalgic. It wasn’t much of an office at all—more like a clubhouse were they liked to spend their time at. Two desks that they sometimes used for studying or organizing documents for the arcade, while the walls were plastered with colorful posters. Shelves full of figurines, astrology things and gaming consoles, creating a space that felt more like a retreat than a workplace. But they loved it that way.
North was sprawled out on the floor, a controller in his hands as he focused on the flashing screen in front of him. His fingers moved with practiced ease, but his furrowed brow and occasional sighs gave away his distracted state of mind.
North sighed as he kept on playing.
Across the room, Dao layed on the couch, a glossy textbook balanced on his knees. He glanced up at North for a second before going back to his book.
Another sigh. This one louder, heavier.
Dao’s lips twitched, but he stayed silent, turning another page in his book. The faint beeping of North’s game filled the room, a rhythm that was oddly soothing… until it wasn’t.
“What?” Dao finally asked, snapping his book shut with a soft thud. He set it aside, his voice calm but edged with mild irritation.
North immediately abandoned his game, scrambling onto the couch across from Dao. His movements were restless, his hands flying through the air as he began to speak.
“Don’t you think they’re, like, way too busy lately?” he blurted, his voice tinged with frustration.
Dao raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. Still, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—an unspoken agreement.
“I mean, I get that they have a lot of work,” North continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. “But Fah and Hill don’t seem this busy, and they’re freaking doctors! Am I being irrational? What if they’re not even working? No, that’s not fair… but it’s not like I monopolize his attention, right? You probably think I’m crazy, but—”
“North,” Dao interrupted gently, his voice cutting through the rambling. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair out of North’s face with a soft touch.
“I get it,” Dao said simply, his tone steady. “He’s also been absent-minded lately.”
“Right?!” North exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with relief. He leaned closer, his energy vibrating with the need for validation. “I’m not imagining it, am I?”
Dao shook his head softly.
North’s phone beeped. He checked it quickly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen.
“Look, he’s there again,” North muttered.
Dao tilted his head, his expression questioning. “What are you talking about?”
“Johan,” North explained, holding up his phone. “He’s going to that same place again.”
“You have him tracked?” Dao asked, more amused than surprised.
“That’s beside the point,” North said, brushing off the question. “Jo and Hit have been going to this location for weeks. They stay a few hours and then leave. When I ask, he never gives me a straight answer.”
“So that’s where Arthit’s been disappearing to,” Dao murmured, his brows knitting together.
“I don’t even know what it is,” North admitted, frustration creeping into his voice.
“Hit’s been disappearing because he has to work with Johan,” Dao said, his tone skeptical. “But I don’t see much working going on.”
Both boyfriends were clearly upset. They’d been ignored, lied to, and left in the dark for too long.
“And you want us to…?” Dao trailed off, waiting for North to finish the thought.
North’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Dao, however, understood.
“Fine, we’ll go there,” Dao decided, his voice firm. Deep down, he also wanted to know what Arthit was up to. If his boyfriend was cheating, Dao swore he’d make him regret it.
“Perfect,” North said, his eyes lighting up. “Tell them I’ll accompany you to class tomorrow. We can go and be back before the lecture ends.”
-
A few hours later, the pair had finalized their plan to fool their ‘slightly’ controlling boyfriends. When Arthit arrived to pick up Dao and drop North off, the two did their best to hide their true intentions.
Arthit entered the room and immediately reached for Dao, wrapping him in a hug that lifted him off the ground. Since pursuing his passion as a music producer, Arthit had become more focused and mature. Yet, in moments like these, he was nothing more than a lovesick golden retriever. North almost laughed at the sight.
No. They were upset with them. Dao, don’t let this dog fool you.
Dao kissed Arthit’s cheek softly before complaining to be put down.
They drove North home, waving goodbye as he headed into the building.
“So, how was your day?” Dao asked, his fingers lightly caressing Arthit’s hand as he drove them home.
“Nothing much, actually,” Arthit replied, his voice casual. “Just a day at the studio. Barely even left for lunch—I just wanted to get back to you the whole time.”
Lie. Why was Arthit lying to him?
Dao’s heart clenched, but he played dumb, keeping his tone light. “That sounds exhausting. You’ve been working so hard lately.”
“It’s worth it,” Arthit said, glancing at Dao with a soft smile. “Everything I do, it’s for us.”
Dao forced a smile, his fingers tightening slightly around Arthit’s hand. “You’re too sweet.”
Arthit chuckled, his thumb brushing over Dao’s knuckles. “Only for you.”
They continued the drive in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a warm glow over the car’s interior. Dao leaned his head against the window, watching the streets blur by, his thoughts a mix of affection and suspicion.
-
At the apartment, North stepped out of the lift and into the penthouse. He found Johan asleep on the couch, still in his suit, his laptop open beside him. North approached quietly, intending to kiss Johan’s sleeping form, but the taller man stirred awake, pulling North into his lap and stealing a kiss.
“You seem tired. We should go to sleep,” North said softly.
Johan didn’t respond, instead resting his head on North’s shoulder. “Was the office okay?” North asked, his voice gentle.
“Office all day,” Johan murmured, his tone weary. “Everything’s a bit hectic. I just miss you. Should I start taking you to the office as my recharge?”
North flushed, embarrassed but pleased. Still, a small part of him bristled. Johan wasn’t in the office all day. He was somewhere else—somewhere North wasn’t allowed to know about.
“Go take a shower,” North said, masking his annoyance with a smile. “I’ll make dinner, and then we can rest, okay?”
Johan nodded, giving North another soft kiss before heading to the bathroom. North watched him go, his smile fading as he turned toward the kitchen. Something wasn’t adding up, and he was determined to find out what.
-
North and Dao stepped out of the cab, squinting at the unassuming building in front of them. It was tucked away in a narrow alley, its exterior giving little away. The matte-black façade bore no signage, just a discreet brass plate with the word *Eclipse* etched into it. North adjusted his oversized spy sunglasses, grinning like he was about to star in a secret-agent movie. Dao, however, was already regretting letting North talk him into this.
“Why the sunglasses again?” Dao muttered, pulling his hoodie tighter around his head.
“Spy vibes, Dao. Spy vibes,” North replied, his voice dripping with excitement. He nudged Dao forward. “Come on. Let’s see what they’re hiding in here.”
They pushed through the heavy double doors, stepping into a dimly lit space that immediately oozed a seductive, vintage charm. The interior was a stark contrast to the nondescript exterior. Plush velvet booths lined the walls, their deep crimson upholstery glowing faintly under the golden light of ornate sconces. A small stage sat at the far end, framed by thick velvet curtains that looked like they’d seen their share of whispered secrets and sultry performances.
The air smelled faintly of polished wood and a hint of something sweet, like spiced rum. It was the kind of place you’d imagine coming alive at night, filled with hushed conversations, soft laughter, and the low hum of jazz. But now, in the early afternoon, it was eerily quiet. Chairs were stacked neatly on tables, and the stage was empty. A lone figure stood at the bar, polishing glasses with a practiced ease.
The woman behind the bar looked up as they approached. She was striking, with sharp cheekbones and a short, stylish bob. Her dark lipstick and crisp white shirt paired with a black vest added to the speakeasy aesthetic. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in their ridiculous sunglasses and hesitant steps.
“We know. We’re not here for drinks. We’re here… for information,” North said, lowering his sunglasses dramatically like he was in a noir film. Dao groaned internally, stepping slightly behind his friend to avoid being associated with the theatrics.
The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in mild amusement. “Information? This isn’t exactly an intel agency, kid.”
“Well,” North began, undeterred, “we were curious about this place. You know, what kind of bar it is, what you do here, that sort of thing.”
Her expression softened, but there was a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. “We’re a speakeasy-style lounge,” she explained. “We specialize in craft cocktails and live performances. Jazz, blues, sometimes even a bit of burlesque. At night, it’s a place for people to unwind and lose themselves for a while.”
Dao nodded, his gaze wandering over the room. It was easy to imagine the space transforming into a lively, smoky den at night. “Sounds… unique.”
“Unique is the idea,” the woman replied, leaning against the bar. “We try to keep it exclusive. Not just anyone can walk in. You need an invitation or a recommendation.”
North leaned forward, his elbows on the bar. “So, do you get regulars? Like, say, two guys who come in often? Maybe with other people?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” North said quickly, flashing another grin. “Just curious about the crowd. You know, trying to get a feel for the vibe.”
Dao cleared his throat, stepping in before North could dig them into a deeper hole. “We’re not from around here,” he said smoothly. “We’ve been hearing about this place and thought we’d check it out. It’s just… really impressive. The setup, the exclusivity. Must be hard to run something like this.”
The woman relaxed a fraction, clearly enjoying the compliment. “It’s a challenge, but worth it. The hardest part is keeping the performances fresh. I’ve got regulars who come here expecting to be wowed every time.” She sighed, rubbing her temple. “Speaking of which, I’m short an act for Thursday. My usual performer canceled last minute, and I haven’t found a replacement yet.”
Before Dao could even process the conversation, North’s mouth was already moving. “You’re in luck!” he exclaimed. “We’re performers. We came here just for that. We can do the show.”
Dao’s head snapped toward North so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “We’re what now?” he hissed under his breath.
The woman looked intrigued, her arms crossing over her chest. “You’re performers?”
“Absolutely,” North said, his confidence unwavering. “We’re versatile too—singing, dancing, whatever you need. We’ve got it covered.”
Dao’s jaw tightened, his mind racing for a way to salvage the situation. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered reluctantly, forcing a smile. “We… do.”
The woman studied them for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright. If you’re serious, I’ll take you up on it. But don’t waste my time. Thursday at 9 PM. Be here early for sound check.”
“Done!” North said, extending his hand for a shake.
She took it, her grip firm. “Name’s Lyra, by the way. Don’t let me down.”
As soon as she turned away, Dao rounded on North, his voice low and sharp. “What the hell was that?”
North grinned sheepishly. “I panicked! She was suspicious, and I thought if we gave her a reason for being here, she’d stop asking questions.”
“By volunteering us to perform? Are you insane?” Dao hissed, his hands clenched into fists.
“Relax,” North said, patting Dao’s shoulder. “How hard can it be? We’ll just figure something out.”
Dao glared at him, but Lyra returned before he could respond. “Anything else you’re curious about?” she asked, her tone casual.
North shook his head quickly. “Nope, that’s it. Thanks for the opportunity, Lyra. We won’t disappoint.”
Dao forced another smile, his stomach twisting with dread. As they left the bar, he couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “I’m going to kill you, North. Slowly. Painfully.”
As soon as they stepped outside, Dao exploded.
“What the hell were you thinking, North?!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the quiet street. He turned to his friend, arms flailing in exasperation. “Perform? Us? Are you out of your mind? We’re not performers! I don’t even sing in the shower, and you just volunteered us to entertain a room full of strangers in *that* place!”
North, unbothered by Dao’s outburst, raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, calm down. You’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting?!” Dao’s voice pitched higher, his hands gesturing wildly. “You dragged me into this ridiculous spy mission, made me wear these stupid sunglasses, and now we’re booked for a Thursday night show at a speakeasy! I’m not overreacting—I’m underreacting!”
North rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Will you stop yelling for a second and think about it?”
“Think about what?” Dao snapped, his eyes blazing. “How to fake my own death so I don’t have to go through with this?”
North stepped closer, his expression serious now. “Johan and Arthit have a *scheduled meeting* on Thursday, remember? They’ve been lying to us for weeks. And guess what? I’d bet anything they’re planning to come here. Probably with someone else. Who knows what they’re doing?”
Dao’s anger paused mid-boil, his brows furrowing as he considered North’s words. “You really think they’re coming here?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
North nodded firmly. “I’m sure of it. And now, thanks to me, we’ll be here too. Front and center. If they’re up to something, we’ll know.”
Dao’s lips twitched, a dangerous glint sparking in his eyes. “So, you’re saying we’ll have the perfect opportunity to catch them in the act?”
North grinned, his mischievous energy contagious. “Exactly. And when we do, they’ll regret ever lying to us.”
Dao crossed his arms, his smirk widening as the plan clicked into place. “Alright. Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No half-assing it. If they’re going to lie to us, we’re going to make them *pay.*”
“Now you’re talking,” North said, clapping Dao on the back. “This is going to be fun.”
Dao shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping him. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Maybe,” North said with a wink. “But you love me for it.”
Dao rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his smirk. They weren’t just going to catch their boyfriends red-handed—they were going to make it a night neither Johan nor Arthit would forget.
-
Johan leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie slightly as he glanced at Arthit across the sleek, modern desk. The dim lighting of the office accentuated the sharp lines of their tailored suits, both men effortlessly exuding power and control despite the weariness in their eyes.
“Did you tell Daotok we’ll be out late?” Johan asked, his voice low and smooth, though a hint of amusement played at the corner of his lips. “Or will the wife beat you?”
Arthit snorted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, the cocky grin he always wore firmly in place. “I did. And for your information, he doesn’t beat me. He just… strongly suggests I keep him informed.”
“Strongly suggests,” Johan repeated, arching a dark brow. “Sounds like a euphemism for being whipped.”
“Hey,” Arthit shot back, pointing a finger at him. “At least I don’t have to track my boyfriend to know where he is. He tells me everything.”
“Everything?” Johan asked, his tone skeptical as he leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re saying he doesn’t keep any secrets?”
Arthit hesitated for a fraction of a second, then waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here before I start spilling my entire life story.”
Johan smirked but didn’t push further. He stood, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease. “Fine. Let’s go.”
They left the office together, their polished shoes clicking against the marble floor as they made their way to the parking lot. Outside, the air was crisp, and their cars—gleaming symbols of their wealth and status—waited for them under the soft glow of overhead lights.
Arthit whistled, giving Johan’s car an approving once-over. “You still driving that thing? Thought you’d have traded it in for something flashier by now.”
Johan glanced at his sleek black Aston Martin, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Why would I? It’s perfect.”
“It’s boring,” Arthit countered, unlocking his bright red Lamborghini with a flourish. “Where’s the fun? The personality?”
Johan’s gaze slid over to Arthit’s car, his expression unimpressed. “Personality? That thing looks like a neon sign screaming ‘look at me.’”
“Exactly,” Arthit said, grinning as he slid into the driver’s seat. “That’s the point.”
Johan shook his head, amused despite himself. He climbed into his car, the engine purring to life with a refined growl. Through the open window, he called out, “Try not to blind anyone on the way there.”
“Try not to bore them to death,” Arthit shot back before revving his engine and peeling out of the lot.
Johan chuckled quietly to himself, steering his car smoothly out after him. The two sports cars roared down the street, a striking contrast to the otherwise quiet night.
As they headed toward the venue, the playful banter faded into a comfortable silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. They had work to do, but tonight wasn’t just about business—it was about ensuring the empire they’d built remained untouchable.
-
North fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, his silver-shimmered hair catching the soft backstage lighting. His usual bravado seemed to falter as he glanced nervously at Dao. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he muttered, shifting on his feet.
Dao rolled his eyes, the golden foils streaking his straight hair glinting as he turned to face his friend. “Maybe it was,” he agreed, his tone dry. “But now we’re doing it.”
Their outfits were striking, almost otherworldly. The tight-fitted black suits accentuated their figures, the sharp tailoring hugging their frames and leaving their small waists on full display. The silver and gold accents on their respective suits shimmered under the light, adding a touch of extravagance to their already stunning appearances.
Beneath the suits, they wore no shirts—just intricate jewelry harnesses that crisscrossed over their torsos, the chains glinting with every movement. The craftsmanship was impeccable, each link a testament to the obscene wealth of their boyfriends. Their makeup was subtle but flawless, with just a hint of gloss on their lips that made them look almost ethereal. Together, they looked like they’d stepped out of a dream—an image of beauty and mischief.
North peeked out from behind the curtain, his eyes narrowing as he spotted their targets. “Right! Look at those dickheads,” he hissed, his nervous energy replaced by indignation.
From their vantage point, they could see Arthit and Johan lounging in the VVIP section. Both men looked effortlessly handsome in their tailored suits, their postures relaxed as they sipped their drinks. Two younger men sat with them, talking animatedly and leaning in just a little too close. Dao’s jaw tightened when he noticed two women arriving at the table, giggling and setting down more drinks before lingering for a moment, their intentions clear.
“Unbelievable,” Dao muttered under his breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“Right?” North said, his voice low but seething. “And they think we’re just gonna sit at home and wait for them like good little housewives.”
Their mutual annoyance was interrupted when the owner swept into the backstage area, her eyes lighting up as she took in their appearance. “You guys look amazing!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “The performance must be perfect.”
“It will be,” Dao assured her, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.
North nodded, his confidence returning as he struck a pose. “We’ve got this.”
The owner smiled, clearly satisfied, and left them to prepare. As soon as the door clicked shut, Dao turned to North, his eyes narrowing. “You’d better not mess this up.”
North smirked, flipping his hair dramatically. “Me? Mess up? Never.”
Dao sighed, glancing back toward the stage. “Just remember why we’re doing this.”
North’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry. They’re not getting away with this.”
-
The room fell into a hushed anticipation as the lights dimmed, casting a sultry glow over the stage. A soft instrumental began to play—the unmistakable melody of "Natural" by Zayn. The slow, hypnotic rhythm filled the air, wrapping the audience in its intoxicating pull.
From behind the velvet curtains, North and Dao emerged with an effortless grace, their every step deliberate and poised. The vintage microphones stood waiting for them, the old-school aesthetic adding a timeless allure to the scene. They each approached their mic, their movements fluid and charged, exuding a confidence that bordered on magnetic.
North tilted his head, letting his silver-highlighted curls shimmer under the low light, his lips brushing the mic as he began to sing. His voice was smooth, warm, and inviting, a velvet ribbon weaving through the room. Dao followed, his golden streaks catching the spotlight as he leaned in, his voice a perfect harmony, soft yet commanding. Their presence was electric, a carefully orchestrated blend of sensuality and artistry.
Their bodies moved in sync with the music, every shift of their hips or roll of their shoulders exuding an almost hypnotic allure. The subtle sway of their figures, combined with the way their voices intertwined, created a performance that was as much a visual feast as it was an auditory one. The audience was spellbound, their eyes glued to the stage.
The possessive men in the VVIP section looked ready to snap. Johan’s jaw ticked as he leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming against the table. His usual composure was slipping, a storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. Arthit, on the other hand, looked seconds away from getting up, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly it seemed it might crack.
“I swear to god, if one more person looks at him like that—” Arthit muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
As the music swelled, North and Dao began to close the space between them, their movements mirroring one another. Their gazes locked, the chemistry between them palpable. Then, as the instrumental break hit, they leaned in—North tilting his head slightly, Dao following suit. The kiss was soft, lingering, and deliberate, a moment that sent a collective gasp rippling through the audience. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a statement, a carefully executed move that left the room breathless.
Johan and Arthit were anything but calm. Arthit’s jaw dropped, his shock quickly replaced by a mix of jealousy and anger. His grip on the table tightened, his knuckles turning white.
Johan’s reaction was colder but no less intense. His dark eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a hard line. The kiss had been deliberate, a calculated move, and he knew it.
“They’re doing this on purpose,” Johan said through gritted teeth, his gaze narrowing.
As the song continued, North and Dao slipped off their jackets with agonizing slowness, revealing the intricate body chains that adorned their skin. The jewelry sparkled under the lights, drawing attention to the smooth curves of their necks and the planes of their chests. The audience couldn’t tear their eyes away, and neither could Johan or Arthit—though their expressions darkened with every passing second.
“They’re dead,” Arthit muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl.
Johan’s gaze never wavered from North, his tone icy as he replied, “They know exactly what they’re doing. And they’re going to regret it.”
The performance reached its crescendo, the duo’s voices blending in a hauntingly beautiful harmony. Their movements became bolder, their expressions a mix of playful and sultry, their eyes flicking toward their boyfriends with a knowing glint. It was a game, and they were playing to win.
Arthit’s usually carefree demeanor was nowhere to be found—his brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze trailed down Dao’s lithe frame, taking in the way the fitted suit clung to him like a second skin, accentuating every graceful line of his body. The sparkling chains across Dao’s chest shimmered with every subtle movement, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. And that’s what made Arthit’s blood boil. He wasn’t the only one looking.
Other eyes—hungry, admiring eyes—lingered on Dao, and every second of it felt like a personal affront. Arthit’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to remain seated, his fingers drumming against the table in an effort to keep his composure. But the jealousy gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting. Dao was his, and the thought of anyone else daring to even think otherwise made his pulse spike.
Johan, meanwhile, sat perfectly still, his usual icy composure barely masking the storm raging beneath. His dark eyes burned as they followed North’s every move—the way his silver-highlighted curls caught the dim light, the soft sheen of gloss on his lips as he sang with that maddeningly smooth voice. Johan’s fingers twitched, his hand curling into a fist on the table.
North looked like a goddamn vision, and Johan hated it. Not because North wasn’t breathtaking, but because everyone else could see it too. The way the crowd’s eyes lingered on him, the way their expressions shifted from awe to something darker—it was infuriating. Johan’s possessiveness churned in his chest, battling with the undeniable heat coursing through him. North knew exactly what he was doing, and Johan wasn’t sure whether he wanted to drag him off that stage to kiss him senseless or lock him away from prying eyes forever.
The performance ended, leaving the room buzzing with applause and murmurs of admiration. Johan and Arthit barely noticed, their attention fixed solely on their boyfriends as they disappeared backstage.
Backstage, North and Dao exchanged triumphant grins, though their flushed cheeks betrayed their nerves.
“That was perfect,” North said, his voice still tinged with adrenaline.
“Perfectly dangerous,” Dao replied, his smirk widening. “They’re going to kill us.”
“Let them try,” North said with a shrug, though his playful tone couldn’t quite mask the flicker of apprehension in his eyes.
Business waited for no man, not even one on the verge of losing his sanity. Johan’s voice was clipped and cold as he turned to their clients, forcing himself to focus. Arthit, too, tried to mask his frustration, though his usual easy charm was noticeably absent. The meeting dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as their minds wandered back to the stage.
Johan’s gaze flicked toward the bar every so often, his composure slipping just enough to betray his distraction. There, sitting with an air of smug satisfaction, were North and Dao. Still in their performance outfits—minus the jackets—their jewelry caught the light with every movement, accentuating their smooth, glowing skin. They looked like they belonged there, exuding confidence and elegance as they sipped their drinks.
Arthit’s grip on his glass tightened as he watched Dao laugh at something North said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The way he leaned against the bar, his slim frame relaxed and inviting, made Arthit’s jaw clench. He could feel the stares from others in the room, lingering too long on Dao’s exposed skin, and it made his possessiveness flare dangerously.
Johan was no better. His eyes narrowed as North tilted his head back, the movement drawing attention to the curve of his neck and the glint of the chains across his chest. Johan’s fingers twitched again, his restraint hanging by a thread. North’s carefree demeanor, his effortless charm—it was maddening. Johan knew the performance had been a calculated move, a deliberate push of boundaries, and it was working. Too well.
“Are we done here?” Arthit’s voice was low, his tone betraying his impatience as he glanced at Johan.
“Almost,” Johan replied, his voice tight. He forced himself to focus on the final details of their discussion, his words clipped and efficient. But his gaze kept drifting back to the bar, his thoughts consumed by the infuriating, irresistible figure waiting for him there.
When the meeting finally concluded, both men stood abruptly, their movements sharp and purposeful. Johan’s expression was unreadable, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. Arthit, on the other hand, looked ready to snap, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a simmering intensity.
As they made their way toward the bar, the air seemed to crackle with unresolved tension. North and Dao noticed them immediately, their expressions shifting from smug satisfaction to something more cautious. They had won this round, but the game was far from over.
The pair of men, confident and unaware of the storm brewing just a few feet away, stepped closer to Dao and North. Their smiles were casual, but their intentions were clear as one of them leaned slightly toward Dao.
“Can we buy you both a drink?” the man asked, his voice smooth and self-assured.
Dao and North exchanged a glance, their disinterest evident, but there was a flicker of amusement in their eyes. They knew exactly who was watching.
Before either of them could respond, they caught sight of their boyfriends at the far end of the room. Johan and Arthit had just finished shaking hands with their clients, their gazes now locked onto the scene unfolding at the bar. The shift in their expressions was subtle but unmistakable—a dangerous calm overtaking Johan’s features, while Arthit’s jaw tightened, his posture stiffening.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” came a low, firm voice.
The man reaching toward Dao froze mid-motion, his hand stopped by Arthit’s iron grip. Arthit’s usually playful tone was gone, replaced by something cold and commanding. His dark eyes bore into the man, leaving no room for argument.
Johan stepped forward with calculated precision, his movements sharp and deliberate. He tossed a few bills onto the table beside North and Dao, his eyes never leaving the men who had dared to approach them.
“We’re leaving,” Johan said abruptly, his voice clipped and icy.
The pair of men hesitated, clearly thrown off by the sudden shift in energy. Dao and North didn’t bother hiding their smirks as they slid off their stools, their movements languid and deliberate, as if to prolong the tension.
North leaned toward Johan, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “You could’ve let them buy us a drink first,” he said, his voice laced with mock innocence.
Johan’s hand found North’s wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. “You’ve had enough attention for one night,” he replied, his tone low and edged with possessiveness.
Meanwhile, Arthit placed a hand on Dao’s lower back, guiding him toward the exit. “I hope you had your fun,” he murmured, his voice tight with restrained emotion.
Dao glanced up at him, his golden-streaked hair catching the light as he smirked. “You’re not mad, are you?”
Arthit’s lips twitched, but he didn’t answer. The intensity in his eyes said enough.
As the four of them stepped out into the night, the tension between them crackled like a live wire. North and Dao might have been the ones in control on stage, but now the tables had turned—and they knew it.
The sleek black car cut through the quiet streets, its engine a low, steady purr against the backdrop of the city’s glowing skyline. Johan’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles pale against the smooth leather. He hadn’t said a word since they left the bar, his jaw set and his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
North, sitting in the passenger seat, shifted slightly, his silver-highlighted curls glinting under the soft glow of the dashboard lights. He could feel the tension radiating off Johan like a storm about to break.
“You’re mad,” North finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was a nervous edge to it.
Johan didn’t respond immediately. His dark eyes remained on the road, but his jaw tightened further, a muscle ticking at the side.
“Mad?” Johan echoed after a moment, his tone low and dangerously calm. “Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it, North.”
North bit his lip, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break through. “It was just a performance,” he said lightly, leaning back in his seat. “You can’t seriously be jealous.”
Johan’s grip on the wheel tightened, and he glanced at North, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “Jealous?” he repeated, his voice dropping a notch. “Do you think I enjoy sitting there while every man in the room undresses you with their eyes? While you sing like that, move like that—”
North tilted his head, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “Like what?” he asked, feigning innocence.
Johan’s jaw clenched, and he pulled the car to an abrupt stop at a red light. The sudden stillness amplified the tension between them. He turned to face North fully, his dark eyes blazing.
“Like you own the damn room,” Johan said, his voice quiet but laced with heat. “Like you know exactly what you’re doing to me. To everyone.”
North’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered, leaning closer to Johan. “You’re overreacting,” he said, his tone softening, though his cheeks were flushed.
Johan leaned in as well, his gaze unwavering. “Am I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because all I could think about was how much I wanted to drag you off that stage and remind you exactly who you belong to.”
North’s breath hitched, his playful demeanor slipping as Johan’s words sank in. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
The light turned green, and Johan straightened, his expression unreadable as he pressed down on the accelerator. The car surged forward, the tension between them simmering just below the surface.
North glanced out the window, his reflection staring back at him. His heart was racing, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Johan’s possessiveness should have annoyed him, but instead, it left him feeling exhilarated, a warmth spreading through his chest.
“You’re impossible,” North muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to his words.
Johan’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, but he didn’t reply. The city lights blurred past them as the car sped through the night, onto their apartment.
-
The ride to their building had been suffocatingly silent, the only sound the low hum of the car’s engine. Arthit’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his jaw set in a hard line. Beside him, Dao sat quietly, his arms crossed, his golden-highlighted hair shimmering faintly in the passing streetlights.
When they arrived, Arthit killed the engine without a word, stepping out of the car with sharp, deliberate movements. Dao followed, his smaller frame almost gliding out of the passenger seat, but he didn’t speak either. The tension between them was thick, a palpable force as they entered the building.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside, the enclosed space amplifying the charged atmosphere. Arthit’s broad shoulders loomed as he stood in front of Dao, his back to the control panel as the doors closed.
“You’re quiet,” Dao finally said, his tone light but edged with defiance.
Arthit didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, pressing the button for their floor with more force than necessary. His eyes remained fixed on Dao, his dark gaze intense and unyielding.
“Do you think that was funny?” Arthit asked, his voice low and rough, a dangerous calm to it.
Dao tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That was the last straw. In a flash, Arthit moved, closing the space between them in one swift motion. His large hand gripped Dao’s wrist, pulling him forward with enough force to make him stumble slightly. Dao’s back hit the mirrored wall of the elevator, and he looked up at Arthit with wide eyes, his smirk faltering.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Arthit growled, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper, darker. His free hand braced against the wall beside Dao’s head, effectively caging him in.
Dao’s heart raced, but he refused to back down. He lifted his chin, his golden eyes meeting Arthit’s with a spark of defiance. “It was just a bit,” he said, his voice steady despite the rapid thrum of his pulse.
Arthit’s grip on his wrist tightened, though not enough to hurt. “A performance where you let every bastard in that room think they had a chance with you,” he shot back, his tone dangerously low. “Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
Dao blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the raw emotion in Arthit’s voice. “They didn’t matter,” he said softly, his smirk replaced by something gentler. “None of them did.”
Arthit’s jaw clenched, his dark eyes searching Dao’s face for a long moment. His hand released Dao’s wrist, only to trail down and settle at his waist, his fingers splayed possessively over the fabric of the fitted suit. He adored this man, Dao was perfect.
“They better not have,” Arthit muttered, his voice rough but quieter now. His forehead dipped forward, resting against Dao’s. “Because if they think they can even look at you like that, they’ll have to deal with me.”
Dao’s lips twitched into a small smile, his hands coming up to rest against Arthit’s chest. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, his voice tinged with affection.
“Maybe,” Arthit admitted, his lips brushing against Dao’s temple as the elevator chimed, signaling their floor.
The doors slid open, but neither of them moved immediately, the weight of Arthit’s words hanging in the air. Finally, Dao pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softening as he looked up at Arthit.
“You should know who my heart belongs to,” his voice barely above a whisper.
Satisfied, Arthit stepped back, his hand still resting lightly on Dao’s waist as they exited the elevator together, they were now alone.
As the door to their apartment clicked shut, Arthit didn’t waste a second. In one swift, fluid motion, he scooped Dao off the ground, his strong arms wrapping securely around the smaller man’s waist. Dao gasped, his hands instinctively gripping Arthit’s broad shoulders for balance, but the sound was quickly swallowed by Arthit’s lips crashing against his.
The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if Arthit had been holding himself back all night and was finally letting the dam break. Dao melted into it, his fingers threading through Arthit’s hair, tugging just enough to elicit a low growl from the man holding him. Arthit pressed Dao against the nearest wall, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating between them.
“You drive me insane, I adore you Dao.” Arthit muttered against Dao’s lips, his voice rough and breathless. His hands roamed over Dao’s body, the fitted suit doing little to hide the curve of his waist or the softness of his skin beneath.
Dao’s golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled back slightly, his lips swollen and his breath uneven. “Good,” he whispered, his tone laced with teasing. “Maybe you’ll think twice before trying to control me next time.”
Arthit chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through Dao’s chest. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, his grip tightening on Dao’s thighs as he lifted him higher. “If anything, I’ll make damn sure you never pull a stunt like that again.”
Before Dao could respond, Arthit’s lips were on his neck, trailing heated kisses along his jawline and down to the sensitive spot just below his ear. Dao shivered, his breath hitching as he tilted his head to give Arthit more access.
The world outside their apartment ceased to exist. It was just the two of them now, their movements a symphony of desire and unspoken promises. Arthit’s lips found Dao’s again, softer this time but no less intense, as if he were savoring every second.
Dao’s hands slid down Arthit’s chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. “You’re so possessive,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement and something deeper.
Arthit pulled back just enough to meet Dao’s gaze, his dark eyes blazing. “And you love it,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Dao didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against Arthit’s in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, a challenge and a surrender all at once.
Arthit carried him further into the apartment, their bodies never parting, the air between them charged with electricity. The door remained closed.
-
The sleek black car glided into Johan’s private parking garage, the hum of the engine fading into silence as he turned it off. The dim, ambient lighting of the space cast long shadows across the polished vehicles, but Johan’s focus was entirely on the man beside him.
North had been quiet during the ride, a rare occurrence for someone usually so animated. But his silence wasn’t submission—it was defiance, the kind that made Johan’s jaw clench and his blood simmer.
Without a word, Johan stepped out of the car, his movements calculated and sharp. He rounded the vehicle and opened North’s door, extending a hand. North took it hesitantly, his glossy lips pressed into a faint pout.
Johan didn’t let him walk far. Instead, he gripped North’s waist and lifted him effortlessly, setting him down on the cool hood of the car. North gasped, his hands instinctively grabbing Johan’s arms for balance.
“Johan, what—”
“Quiet,” Johan interrupted, his voice low and commanding, his dark eyes locking onto North’s. He stepped between North’s legs, his hands sliding up to grip his hips firmly. “You’ve been testing my patience all night.”
North’s defiance flickered for a moment, replaced by a glimmer of amusement. “Oh? I thought you liked a little challenge.”
Johan’s lips curved into a smirk, but his eyes burned with intensity. “There’s a difference between a challenge and outright provocation, North.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against North’s ear, his voice a dangerous whisper. “And you’ve been provoking me all night.”
North shivered, his breath catching as Johan’s hands moved to his thighs, squeezing just enough to make his intentions clear. “Maybe I wanted to see how far I could push you,” North replied, his voice soft but teasing.
Johan chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating between them. “Congratulations,” he said, his lips ghosting over North’s jawline. “You’ve succeeded.”
He tilted North’s chin up, their eyes meeting in a charged silence before Johan closed the distance. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a claiming rather than a request. North melted into it, his hands sliding up Johan’s chest to tangle in his dark hair.
The cool metal of the car hood beneath him contrasted with the heat of Johan’s touch, every movement precise yet unrestrained. Johan’s lips left North’s, trailing down his neck, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“Do you have any idea what you did to me up there?” Johan murmured against North’s skin, his voice a mix of frustration and desire.
North smirked, his fingers tugging gently at Johan’s hair. “You looked like you were enjoying the show to me.”
Johan pulled back slightly, his gaze dark and unwavering. “Enjoying it? No. Enduring it? Barely.” His hands tightened on North’s hips, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush. “Do you know how hard it was not to drag you off that stage?”
North’s teasing demeanor faltered, his cheeks flushing under Johan’s intense gaze. “You could’ve tried,” he said, his voice quieter now, the defiance softening into something more vulnerable.
Johan’s smirk returned, his lips brushing against North’s in a feather-light kiss before he pulled back just enough to whisper, “I don’t try, North. I take.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with promise, as Johan captured North’s lips again, his grip firm and possessive. The garage was silent save for the sound of their breaths and the faint rustle of fabric as Johan pressed closer.
The moment felt suspended in time, a storm brewing beneath the surface, ready to break. Johan’s hands slid lower, his touch sending shivers down North’s spine.
But he stopped just short of taking it further, pulling back with a sharp inhale. His dark eyes bore into North’s, his lips curling into a smirk that promised this was far from over.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Johan said, his voice calm but laced with intent.
North’s breath hitched, his pulse racing as he nodded, his usual bravado momentarily eclipsed by the sheer force of Johan’s presence.
Johan helped him off the hood, his hand never leaving North’s waist as they headed toward the elevator. The tension between them was palpable, every step echoing with unspoken anticipation.
The night was far from over.