Chapter Text
This is not right, the thought flashes unbidden in Phuwin's mind.
Tommy doesn’t butcher the name of the wine, doesn’t talk about himself the whole time, doesn’t place his hand on Phuwin’s thigh like some creeps Phuwin’s encountered who had absolutely nothing to themselves but the audacity. All things considered, it’s just been five minutes since they got here, but everything about this evening has beaten every and any attempt at a first date Phuwin’s ever had in the last year. Everything.
Well, except for one thing.
“It’s pretty nice, isn’t it?” Tommy asks once the waiter has left after refilling their glasses with wine, “to be honest with you, I still don’t know much around town so I had to ask a colleague for a recommendation. I was a little nervous.”
“Yes,” he smiles. Or tries to. “It is nice, indeed.”
Phuwin takes a sip of his wine and swallows the truth down with it. It’s not Tommy’s fault that he took Phuwin here of all places, the one place Phuwin has not even wandered close to for almost a year now. Fate is a funny little twisted thing - and if it wants Phuwin to land right back in the restaurant that used to be his and his exes’ place, then it is what it is. And it is not Tommy’s fault.
Besides, it’s not a lie that this place is nice.
It’s objectively nice, not too fancy that it feels pretentious and not too casual that it’s bordering on noisy and chaotic. Everything is just right, and everything is still just as he remembers - every corner and flower vase, even the sound of clinking glasses and muted chatters still feel terrifyingly familiar. Phuwin still remembers thinking then, that what a shame it was that he could never come back here. But oh boy, is fate a funny little twisted thing.
“I recommend their veal steak with hazelnut mashed potato,” Phuwin smiles at Tommy when he sees him flipping through the menu for the second time, “it’s going to change your life.”
“You seem to know this place well. Been here before?” Tommy turns to him after the waiter leaves with their order.
“Yes,” his eyes dart to the table by the window at the far left corner. Reserved. Well, whoever reserved that table better not be a couple madly in love. It’s probably not good omen to sit at a table where someone had had their break-up. “Many times, actually,” Phuwin smiles and can only hope it reaches his eyes.
“Well, understandable. It’s nice here.”
Yes, it still is.
It’s just not right, Phuwin hears himself scream internally. And this time it echoes back to him, in the form of a question: then what is?
The lesson here is to always expect that things could always get a little worse.
If Phuwin thought not right was bad, wait until he’s two-thirds through the main course and awfully wrong waltzes into the room straight to the table by the window at the far left corner, pulls one chair out and waits until the seat is taken before settling himself down to the one directly opposite.
It feels like déjà vu.
It feels like Phuwin is going to take that seat Pond’s pulled out readily, sitting across from him and be at the receiving end of his soft, attentive gaze. Pond’s going to have both of his arms crossed on the table to prop himself a little forward, as he leans in to listen, to respond to every word Phuwin is saying, and with all his frankly outrageously perfect teeth: smile. Mirth in deep brown eyes and all.
Shit.
At the rate his heart is beating, it’s going to crash itself onto his ribcage and deteriorate into a puddle of bloody, meaty, disgusting goo.
“Phuwin, you alright there?” Great. Good to know he’s not just feeling like he’s about to have a stroke but also looking the part, that even Tommy notices. “You look a little… pale there.”
Phuwin averts his eyes back to Tommy, and immediately guilt rises in him like bile. “I’m okay, just. Um, I just accidentally bit my tongue.”
That must be the dumbest thing anyone has ever said out loud, ever. But if Tommy notices anything abnormal, he chooses not to point it out. “I know you love the food, but easy there. I’m not going to ghost you if you order a second main course, I promise.”
That got Phuwin chuckling.
First dates are, from his personal experiences, tedious.
It’s always the same damn series of boring questions and answers, nothing he couldn’t find in a Tinder bio if Phuwin ever bothers reading any up. Anything and everything happening in this evening so far, Tommy included, already exceeds far beyond Phuwin’s initial expectation when Satang was convincing him to go on a date with his cousin who’d just moved back from America. Everything.
And yet, somehow, it’s not stopping Phuwin from glancing over the far left corner and feeling - quite literally - sick from whatever incredibly sour thing that’s pooling inside his stomach.
Like the law of physics, exes get hotter after break-ups.
Pond has his hair styled away from his face today - the way he always does for a special occasion. He has two top buttons of his navy dress shirt undone with its sleeves folded up to the middle of his forearms, revealing the watch he reserves for, well, special occasions - on his wrist. Said special occasion whatever it might be, obviously involves taking a very pretty boy who smiles like an angel to their place, of all places. Making him blush furiously. Making him chuckle into his fist and half-fold himself over the table because Pond is just so… funny.
What are they even laughing at? What’s so funny? When did Pond acquire an actual sense of humor that’s not just cheesy pick-up lines and niche anime references?
The lesson here is to always expect that things could always get a lot worse.
Phuwin learns it the second time tonight because of course he’d forgotten that yeah, he’s not invisible and just like he can see Pond in all his Adonis glory: Pond can see him too. All he needs to do is to look away from the very, very pretty boy for the first time of the night (not like Phuwin keeps count or anything,) and straight into Phuwin’s eyes. And then just like every late 90s romcoms and horror movies combined: Their eyes meet across the room.
He both sees and feels Pond’s gaze stop at his face, with the initial shock painting strikingly clear in the dark brown of his eyes. It’s quickly replaced by something else, however, something terrifyingly familiar to the feeling that’s making Phuwin’s stomach churn. He can’t quite put his finger on it at the moment.
And then, Pond looks away. Back to his pretty boy. Stares at him with his eyes soft, attentive, and warm.
Oh, he’s really going to be sick. Like sick sick. He knows a date going well when he sees it and if Pond is trying that damn hard for one then fine, Phuwin will show him one.
Thing is, Phuwin hardly even has to pretend.
He neither has to exaggerate or act like how good of a time he’s having because shocking horror, he really is having a good time. It turns out that Tommy is not just polite and tactful but weirdly funny as well, so Phuwin finds his laughter come easy. And if he wasn’t too busy glancing elsewhere the whole time, he’d probably realized it a tad sooner but damn, if Tommy isn’t a fine specimen of a man. For the first time in however long it was, Phuwin is having fun on a date.
But so is Pond.
It feels like déjà vu, like a glimpse into a very familiar scenario imprinted somewhere in his subconscious. It’s familiar down to the way Pond leans back to his chair whenever he laughs a bit too hard, the way he swirls his glass of wine around before taking a sip, eyes all the while staying attentive, soft, and warm. And as if on cue: Phuwin’s stomach swoops as if on cue, shamelessly so.
Familiarity is a scary, scary thing.
It has to be familiarity, it has to. It’s all because of these familiar… circumstances. It’s tricking all his senses and his dumb heart into thinking something is missing and the only place he could find the final puzzle piece is Pond’s stupid face, so that’s where his gaze ends up landing every single time.
Every two minutes.
Which allows him to catch just the right moment where pretty boy brings his hand up and cradles Pond’s face. What the fuck. Phuwin’s heart drops to his stomach because what the fuck. He registers less of the pain and more of the metallic taste from blood from where he’s biting his bottom lip too hard, because what the actual. Fuck.
To top it all off, Pond looks at pretty boy with the kind of adoration and indulgence that, ironically enough, feels most familiar out of all things to Phuwin in this evening so far. Except he’s not the one taking the seat across Pond that he’s readily pulled out, or being at the receiving end of his attentive, soft and warm gaze - the kind of gaze that guarantees to make everyone fall head over heels. Phuwin would know that, wouldn’t he.
Damn it. There’s a smoking hot man with tact and a sense of humor right in front of him, and yet.
“You seem distracted.” Tommy rests his chin on the heel of his palm, his eyes... knowing. Phuwin feels exposed. “Should I stop hoping for a second date now?”
He gulps.
“I’m sorry,” Phuwin’s utterly ashamed. And guilty. And pissed at himself for being so transparent that he’s about to ruin what most probably would be his only shot at a promising connection in the near future. Or forever, you never know. “I think I saw someone I know. Maybe. I think.”
“Oh Phuwin, I think you definitely saw someone you know.” Tommy would have to be an idiot to buy it, of course. He smiles and there’s kindness exuding from him in every word he speaks, but it only makes Phuwin feel all the more guiltier. “You wouldn’t stare at them so long if you weren’t so sure.”
Phuwin doesn’t really know what to do other than emptying his glass like that amount of alcohol could wipe his memories - and embarrassment - clean off.
“And neither would they.”
Oh, isn’t Tommy just straightforward. Two can play at the elaborated game of stealing glances across the room and he would have to be quite literally blind not to have noticed - even through his peripheral vision - the way Pond’s eyes latch on the side of his face in moments he thinks Phuwin isn’t looking. He really thought he did well, though, trying to pretend like he was unfazed and there wasn’t some kind of heat spreading under his skin. Or anything.
“Well, then I think you must have mistaken,” he puts his glass down, and squeezes out the last of his energy to smile at Tommy one last time before standing up from his seat. “I just need the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Phuwin belatedly realizes way past the one minute mark, that a public restroom isn’t the best place to cool his head and hide away from reality. Because it’s public. Public means anyone can walk in. And anyone means even the reality he’s so desperately trying to run from.
He sees Pond approaching through the big mirror by the sink before he stops right next to Phuwin, and starts washing his hands nonchalantly like they’re just two strangers coincidentally ending up in the same place at the same time. Which, okay, they technically are. Just that said stranger is his ex. Said same place just so happens to be the very restaurant they had the first and last date and many, many in between. Said same time being them both on a very, very well-going date. And not with each other.
Because they’re strangers, technically. And Phuwin technically doesn’t have to feel the strong urge to physically disappear at this very moment.
Right, he realizes. Why must he?
“Long time no see.”
Pond looks visibly surprised, his eyebrows raised so high like he didn’t think Phuwin would dare break the silence first. How very presumptuous of him, Phuwin clenches his teeth. What does he take him for? What does he take himself for? That he’d be enough to make Phuwin lose his composure?
He does manage to respond a few seconds later, however. “Have you been well?”
“Not as well as you are, apparently.” He says, acutely aware of his tone. And technically there's no reason for him to sound like that. So he tries to fix it, because Phuwin is a full-grown adult who’s perfectly capable of having a civilized conversation. “You seem… well, Pond.”
“You too, as you always do.” Pond doesn’t smile and Phuwin’s not angry in the first place, but it sounds placating for some reason. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well. It’s a very good place for a date, after all,” Phuwin hears the words escape him even before his brain registers what it is that he wanted to say and no, oh God, no. “Seeing that you still bring yours here.”
How many times must it have been? How many dates has Pond brought here, how many pretty boys have sat on Phuwin’s seat for Pond to stare lovingly at and let touch his face? Something is slipping out of his grip like sand from the gap between his fingers, and all Phuwin can do now is stand and watch.
Pond scoffs, almost in disbelief. “And what about you?”
“What about me?” He snaps.
“Or was that gentleman not your date?” Pond smiles, almost wickedly and if Phuwin didn’t know better, he’d be tricked by the possessive edge in Pond’s voice. “Just another close friend? Or a friendly client? That you invited to our place?”
“I didn’t pick the place,” Phuwin doesn’t know why he feels the need to clarify, but he does so before he realizes it. Why must he explain himself like he did something wrong?! “And there’s no such thing as ours anymore, Pond. We, us, ours, whatever.”
He’s not sure if he’s telling Pond all that, or himself. Nevertheless, Pond looks unconvinced. And for some reasons, hurt.
For a long moment Pond doesn’t say anything. No one says anything. And then Pond steps closer, his presence looming. And closer. Until he’s got both his hands planted on the edge of the countertop to trap Phuwin between his arms.
Fuck.
Phuwin finds himself having to employ the last bit of restraint not to bring his arms up and cling onto Pond’s neck, because familiarity is a scary, scary thing, and he’s still drawn to Pond’s body, almost magnetic. Despite the alarm blaring at the back of his mind like a weak, weak animal sensing danger, only a tad too late because it’s already fallen into a death trap.
He’s absolutely mortified.
Ever more so when he can smell Pond from this proximity, the mix of his spicy cologne and something entirely Pond makes Phuwin’s stomach twist.
“So he’s really your date.”
“Yeah, and why do you care? You have yourself a lovely companion too,” Phuwin tries to ignore the way Pond’s gaze drops from his eyes down to his nose, then his lips. It’s already hard as it is to even speak when it feels like Pond’s eyes are pinning him dead frozen where he is. “You should get back to him already. Let me go.”
To Phuwin’s surprise, Pond actually stands up straight and retrieves his arms. Phuwin’s free to go as he so wishes.
“Then go,” Pond crosses his arms in front of his chest now, gaze still on Phuwin and intent. “If you go, then I’ll get back to my companion .”
His stomach twists. For some reasons Phuwin would rather die before wanting to unpack: he absolutely hates that idea. Of Pond going back out there, to the very, very pretty boy that smiles like an angel.
“Should I, Phuwin?”
Oh, he’s going to be sick.
Like sick sick.
He’s going to hell for this.
Because the next thing he knows, they’re already locked in the nearest stall and Pond’s pressing him so hard against the door that he feels like he’s going to pass out from the lack of oxygen. If the mind-numbing kiss is not going to do that first, that is. Pond is kissing him, his lips fervent against Phuwin’s own and oh, they are going to hell for this.
It’s almost fascinating how it’s been so long, but their lips still mold against each other like muscle memory, and it still feels this right. Pond tastes like red wine and whatever chocolate dessert he must have had a bite of before following Phuwin in here, intoxicatingly sweet with a hint of bitterness that drives Phuwin insane from the sheer desire to have more of.
So he does just that.
He kisses Pond the way he knows he shouldn’t but oh boy, does it feel good. And Phuwin is running on autopilot right now, all he knows is that yes, this feels good. He wants more of this. More of Pond’s mouth on his neck, more of Pond’s hands on his skin.
Pond’s hands are on his skin.
Shit.
“You’re going to kill me,” Phuwin doesn’t know since when Pond’s got his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants, but realization only hits when he’s already has both hands creeping inside Phuwin’s shirt and on every surface of skin he can reach. “You are killing me.”
Pond makes a point to shut him up by diving back to his lips, kissing him wet and filthy. As he should. Phuwin gladly lets Pond have a thorough, thorough taste of his mouth, caring pathetically little about the noises escaping him that he’d otherwise be horrified to hear himself making. Or the way his jaw is starting to hurt from being kept open to welcome Pond’s intrusion. The way Pond’s hands are going up and down to alter between kneading his ass and gripping around his waist so hard he’s sure it’d bruise.
Phuwin already has an idea where this is going, if Pond unbuttoning his shirt to have more access is any indication.
“We can’t,” Phuwin pants, and it doesn’t sound convincing to even his own ears, not when his hands are still threaded into Pond’s hair to hold him close where he’s sucking lower, and lower down his chest. “Pond, not here.”
“Not like we’ve never,” he says between heated kisses. “In here.”
Unfortunately, that is true.
But Phuwin not having enough self-respect to stop Pond from fucking him in a public bathroom stall, doesn’t mean Tommy and pretty boy don’t deserve any. He’s almost amazed at himself that he can still afford to think, let alone care about that right now, when Pond’s mouth is on him. Character progression, he thinks. Kind of.
In a perfect scenario where Phuwin’s character had developed into anywhere near a respectable human being with morals, he’d stop. He’d push Pond away, reminding him that they shouldn’t be doing this because they’d broken up and moved on with their lives, with whom might very well be their potential partners right on the other side of this door waiting for them.
Unfortunately, he’s not made it so far yet. He’s only a sorry excuse of a human being, so the prospect of having sex with his ex still manages to make his mouth dry and water at the same time.
“At least we should- Pond. ” Phuwin has to pull Pond up by the hair to forcefully remove Pond’s mouth from his skin. He’s not sure if it’s more painful for Pond or himself to do so. “Let them know.”
Pond leans forward to rest his head against Phuwin’s, and the low grunt he lets out makes Phuwin blood furiously rush south. He’s still being held a precarious distance away from Phuwin’s lips, but that doesn’t stop his wandering hands from finding their way to Phuwin’s nipples, and oh, if Phuwin hasn’t lost it completely yet, Pond is going to make sure he will. He rubs one with his thumb and twists the other between his fingers, forcing Phuwin to lose what’s left of a breath he still has into the most desperate, high-pitched sound he’s ever heard himself make.
“Come to the entrance in ten,” he says, voice thick with blatant want, “I’ll bring the car around.”
Phuwin doesn’t have a single second to be guilty about the flimsy excuse he told Tommy, or wonder what happened to pretty boy.
Pond seems particularly eager to keep those thoughts off of him - or any thought at all for that matter, because his hand almost never leaves its place on Phuwin’s thigh throughout the fifteen-minute ride back, fingers digging into his flesh just on the edge of making it hurt. They don’t say a word, not even when they make it inside the elevator which, to Phuwin’s relief, is empty, because it doesn’t seem like even the presence of some strangers would be enough to stop Pond from having his mouth on him.
Phuwin catches a glimpse of himself in the reflective wall.
If Pond isn’t kissing the shame out of him right now then maybe Phuwin would mind way more about the way he’s looking so fucked out even before they get to the fucking part, with his hair all tousled up and half of his buttons undone again (seriously, since when?!) Too bad the prospect of Pond having him all kinds of messed up only manages to make his knees buckle and his body go limp in Pond’s hold, his mind failing to stop himself from reacting a little less enthusiastically to every of Pond’s touches.
Hell, he can’t even register anything past the joyous ding of the elevator or recall how they’ve gotten inside of Pond’s apartment, okay? It’s all hands and lips and tongues one second and in the next, Phuwin already finds himself sandwiched between the sturdy surface of the door and Pond and oh, he still hasn’t learned to be indifferent to sharp jawlines and tones chests after all, he realizes.
“If you want to stop,” Pond murmurs against the wet patch of skin he’s just sucked marks on, “now is your last chance.”
Sure, there’s a door he’s quite literally being plastered on and it’d take no more than five seconds to be on the other side of it, Phuwin knows. And Pond would stop if he says so - that he also knows. However, funny as it is: with the last possibility of a way out offered, Phuwin’s never been more aware of how trapped he is and more importantly, how not even a single cell in him wants to escape. Seriously, they’ve barely made it past the threshold and half of his clothes are already stripped clean off, and Pond’s saying stopping is still an option?
“Cut the nonsense,” Phuwin never knew he could be standing absolutely still and yet so out of breath, until he has to form intelligible words with both of Pond’s hands on his ass and Pond’s thigh between Phuwin’s own as if their owner’s intentions weren’t clear enough, “use your mouth elsewhere more useful.”
He will have to seriously question Pond's rather interesting interpretation of elsewhere useful at a later point, but maybe not right now when the last of his ability to think is escaping his body at the same speed Pond’s descending to his knees. As though worried that alone wouldn’t do the trick, he catches Phuwin’s zipper between his teeth and pulls it down, down, down - all the while still staring straight into Phuwin’s eyes like he’s determined to watch Phuwin lose it real time. Pond doesn’t have to wait for long to see that happen, because him mouthing wetly at Phuwin’s cock through his boxers is apparently all it takes to make every cord and string in Phuwin’s useless pile of mush for a brain snap one after another.
“Pond,” he sobs. “Pond. ”
It’s frustrating. It’s not enough.
The layer of cloth sticks to his skin sloppily, providing the last barrier between him and Pond’s skillful mouth and no, no. It’s not enough. He can’t take this any longer. He can’t resist the jerk of his hips nor the pathetic moan of Pond’s name he lets out, and fine, Phuwin is not proud of himself, okay? But it does get Pond chuckling low against his thigh and yanking his boxers off, so maybe the shame is worth it. Definitely worth it.
“So eager,” Pond gives the leaking tip a teasing lick, “you always were.”
He coaxes one of Phuwin’s legs out of his pants and over his shoulder, then sinks deep in. Phuwin moans loud when his cock hits the back of Pond’s throat and fuck, he would die before he admits that he almost cums right there when Pond grabs either side of his hips, forcefully pulls him forward and as a result making his half hard cock go impossibly deeper in.
Such a pleaser Pond is, Phuwin vaguely thinks in a rare moment of clarity. Such a warm invitation for Phuwin to wreck his throat, and wouldn’t it be just plain rude to turn Pond down? So he throws his head back and starts pushing himself slowly into Pond’s welcoming mouth, until Pond pets his thigh to encourage him to go harder.
This is dangerous, the alarm in Phuwin’s brain goes off again.
He’d probably hear it more clearly if the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of Pond’s mouth weren’t so damn loud and having him a little fucking insane. It’s not Phuwin’s fault that he finds it more than easy to ignore whatever danger his subconscious is warning him against and simply give in, because judging by the way Pond’s pressing the heel of his palm on his own erection for some much needed relief: it seems like he’s more than willing to take .
Phuwin doesn’t get to relish the unbidden waves of pleasure for too long, however.
“What the fuck,” he hisses when Pond suddenly pulls away with an obscene pop just right when Phuwin’s starting to losing control over the pace of his hips. He can’t help but shudder when the cold air hits his leaking cock, the tight heat of Pond’s mouth around it just a second before so dearly missed. All he needed was just one more second.
“Easy there,” Pond soothes him with sleazy strokes after setting Phuwin’s leg down, lips red and shiny, “I have better plans.”
Step one apparently being Pond scooping Phuwin off his feet in one swift movement, so sudden that Phuwin is left with no choice but to wrap his legs around Pond’s waist for stability. Being carried by Pond always makes Phuwin feel some type of way, especially when the destination is the soft sheets that smell so much like Pond’s heady scent.
Would he call that a plan? Probably not. But is it better? Yes. Yes it is.
He only notices once Pond’s hovering over him now, however, that the man is still infuriatingly completely dressed. Not a single strand of hair out of place, not even a wrinkle on his crisp dress shirt. The only thing betrays their little fun just now is Pond’s spit shiny lips, which Phuwin finds utterly unfair.
“You’re overdressed for the occasion,” he tugs at Pond’s shirt with one hand while the other flies straight to the buckle of his belt, “off.”
Phuwin props himself up on his arms once Pond’s momentarily off him to get rid of his own clothes. He shamelessly watches Pond undress because he’s at the point where shame and dignity don’t matter in the very least - if he had any in the first place, that is. Plus, it’s not a daily occurrence where one gets to see a fine, fine man in all his naked glory. Well it used to be, but not anymore. It hasn’t been for more than three hundred days now, so if he wants to watch Pond get naked then he’s going to fucking watch Pond get naked, okay?
The mere sight of Pond still knocks the wind out of him.
Fuck, back then Phuwin never understood why Pond could wake up at six sharp every morning for the gym and would rather skip a dinner party than a chest day, but he kind of gets it now. Not like he’s never seen Pond’s body before, but this is not something possible to get used to. Or maybe one could get used to it in more than a year’s time, but Phuwin wouldn’t know that would he.
“You’re staring,” Pond’s face splits into an arrogant grin, and Phuwin can’t even be mad. He has all the rights to be arrogant.
“Should I not?” He challenges.
“You can do more than just stare, you know.”
He would love to do more than just stare, thanks for asking - but Pond’s hands and lips are on him again after he’s done with his clothes and come back on the bed with a bottle of lube and condom. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much to push Phuwin right back to the edge where he just was and so before he knows it, Phuwin already finds himself choking on a moan, clawing at Pond’s neck and back when he decides to pay ample attention to Phuwin’s nipples. He sucks one into his mouth to graze it with his teeth, the other poor nub not being treated any more gently because Pond pinches on it like he intends for it to hurt and absolutely revels in the way Phuwin shudders from the sharp twinge prickling through his skin.
See, the thing is Pond knows Phuwin likes it when it hurts just a little, enjoys the way piercing pain heightens his sensitivity and sends him straight to overdrive. He knows it, so he makes the most out of it. It’s infuriating. It’s mean. Phuwin loves it.
He arches up and into Pond, letting him take care of all the spots he knows would punch the breath out of Phuwin - mainly every sliver of skin on Phuwin’s neck, and his nipples which he’s pretty sure are now dark red and swollen, painfully hard after all the attention they receive. It’s deliberate torture, but it’s also the convenience that comes with fucking someone he used to date, he guesses. Pond knows how to touch him just right. Pond touches him right.
It’s convenient, see?
That’s why he’s letting Pond lick a stripe down his body and take the tip of his cock back into his mouth - thank fuck - to suckle on it noisily for just a few seconds before grabbing his thighs and pushing them up, nearly folding Phuwin in half in the process. Pond doesn’t tease and quickly settles himself in between Phuwin’s legs, and Phuwin knows that’s when he should bring his hands to the back of his knees and hold himself open to Pond. See? They’re like a well-oiled machine. How convenient is that.
“Oh, what do we have here,” Pond’s voice gets a whole octave lower - in a way Phuwin thought would be impossible, when the stretch of his rim gives in easily to Pond’s tentative press. “On the first date? Really?”
Phuwin wants to open his mouth and clarify. He doesn’t know why he must, but he wants to. He wants to tell Pond that no, that was just a bit of harmless fun he had this morning because only on weekends could he enjoy long, relaxing showers, and no, he’s not that desperate. Not on the first date. But that wouldn’t sound terribly convincing right now, would it, when Phuwin’s practically wailing with his back arched off the sheets, his whole body shaking at every lick and thrust of Pond’s tongue on where he needs him most.
Oh, Pond’s pissed.
Phuwin kind of gathers three lube slicked fingers inside him later, the ruthless intrusion made extremely easy by spit and Pond’s skillful tongue. He curls his fingers at the angle he knows too well would send Phuwin’s entire body into uncontrollable convulsions, attacking his prostate with dead-on precision while his other hand busies jerking Phuwin off in tandem. The only chance for a breath Phuwin gets is when Pond only stops for a second in between in favor of spreading his fingers, making room for his tongue to join in the fun, pushing deeper inside than what should be possible and oh, Pond’s definitely pissed.
“Pond. Too much,” Phuwin’s arms are giving in from where he’s holding himself open, his thighs already burning from the flex but unfortunately for him and his sanity: Pond looks nowhere near done. Fuck, he’s going to fucking cum on Pond’s fingers. He’s going to cum and pass the fuck out at this rate. He’s so close, he’s-
Not coming. Because Pond doesn’t let him.
Pond yanks his finger out just then and bites hard on the inside of his thigh before moving up to Phuwin’s lips, lube-sticky hand grabbing hard on his jaw to force his mouth open so he can push Phuwin’s mess into his mouth, making him taste himself on Pond’s tongue. He gags on it, his entire body still shaking violently from the orgasm brutally snatched out of its grip at the last second but Pond couldn’t care less. He shoves his fingers into Phuwin’s mouth, and fucking chuckles when Phuwin feels his eyes start stinging with tears.
He’s mean. Phuwin loves it.
Pond is kneeling above Phuwin with his knees on either side of his head now, retrieving his fingers but Phuwin only gets two second before he’s stuffed full again. Phuwin’s jaw is growing tired from being forced open too long, his saliva is collecting and pooling out from the corners of his mouth but all he can think about is how good Pond looks - brows furrowed and his lips bitten red, eyes dyed dark with desire as he slowly feeds his cock into Phuwin’s mouth. Again, he’s not proud of himself, okay?
Pond thrusts shallowly until he’s fully hard, and Phuwin is mortified to find himself being pushed to near coming again just from having Pond hot and heavy on his tongue. He would like to think he has more dignity than that, but then he sees Pond bite at one corner of the condom packet and tear it open with his teeth and guess what? Phuwin’s entire body violently throb from anticipation, dignity be damned.
“Tell me, how did you want to be fucked?” Pond pushes Phuwin’s hair away from his eyes, his other hand slowly jerking himself off with a generous amount of lube, “on your first date? Hm?”
“I didn’t- oh God ”
The rest of Phuwin’s explanation, or clarification - however you want to call it - gets punched out of him into whines and breathless gasps. Pond doesn’t bother giving him any sign after arranging himself between Phuwin’s legs, he just crams nearly half of his length inside in one forward push and Goddamn it, the stretch against his walls is making Phuwin delirious. He squirms at every inch entering but with Pond holding him in place by the hips, Phuwin has nowhere to run.
He does not want to run, anyway.
Well at least Pond is still merciful enough to allow him some time to adjust once he’s all bottomed out, hips flush against Phuwin’s ass. He leans down to kiss Phuwin slow and deep, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as though to soothe after biting it raw, and it’s gentle. It’s intimate. Phuwin’s not sure if he’s still allowed to love it.
Instead, he brings his legs up to wrap around Pond’s waist, urging him closer from where his ankles lock behind Pond’s back and that’s when Pond starts moving. It takes a few tantalizingly slow strokes before he picks up his pace, ramming his length inside Phuwin with more conviction and proving again that it truly doesn’t take much to render Phuwin into a moaning mess, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s fisting into the sheets beneath him.
“So good for me,” Pond brings one of Phuwin’s ankles to his lips and mouths at it, his free hand grabbing Phuwin’s other knee to keep him wide open. “Only me.”
Something about Pond’s only me wanders close to a too dangerous territory for Phuwin’s comfort but he doesn’t think with his big brain anymore, Pond makes sure of that. All warning he gives Phuwin is an ironically chaste press on his lips before he grabs Phuwin by his waist, and quite literally yanks him down his length.
The thing about Pond is that he’s rough. And insanely strong.
He thrusts up hard in tandem with the rhythm he’s forcing Phuwin down his cock, reaching deeper inside than possible and stretches Phuwin thin. Phuwin’s last coherent thought before he loses it and starts screaming that Pond’s going to kill him like this, is that everything about Pond is so deceptive. He kisses gentle but fucks mean, he holds Phuwin’s hand through it like a romantic but doesn’t hesitate to leave bruises where he knows damn well can’t be covered, he calls Phuwin pretty, precious then flips him, arranges him, throws him around like a doll of his free use.
He makes Phuwin think he’ll finally get to come this time, like this - face buried in the fluffy pillow that’s gotten damp from his sweat, ass held up in the air with Pond pounding into him in long, measured strokes - but no, because everything about Pond is deceptive and he’s fucking mean. Just when Phuwin feels the first wave of the orgasm that’s been building up in him with every punishing snap of Pond’s hips, Pond pulls out and squeezes hard around the base of Phuwin’s leaking cock.
Phuwin starts crying.
The feeling of being a hair’s breadth away from sweet release and then having it yanked out of his grip pushes the tears at the corners of his eyes right out, big drops rolling down his cheeks like a broken dam. He wants to complain, he wants to curse, but every word he wants to say escapes into a chain of meaningless babbles and it’s too much, too much, he can’t do this anymore. In the end the only thing Phuwin manages is just lying there, limp and pathetic like a ragdoll, letting Pond flip him onto his side and gather him into his arms from behind.
“I don’t want it to end. Not yet,” he whispers into Phuwin’s ears then nibbles on his earlobes like a teething puppy, “I’m not done with you yet.”
It wasn’t rare even back then for them to have some sorts of intermission when it got too intense for both, because believe it or not, fucking - or in Phuwin’s case, being fucked - is a workout on its own. Phuwin could use a break - sure, thank you very much, but it’s never been at the expense of his own orgasm.
But it’s not exactly a break like this, isn’t it, with Pond is pressed skin-on-skin behind him to wreck Phuwin in a totally different way once he deems Phuwin’s caught enough of a breath. He replaces the pillow and lets Phuwin rest on his arm instead, the other reaching to the front to start playing with Phuwin’s chest again. He rubs and flicks Phuwin’s swollen nubs in turn, kneading on his chest then runs his hand down Phuwin’s tummy to placate his painfully hard cock with some languid strokes, just because he can. Not so slow that it makes Phuwin even more pissed than he already is, but not nearly fast enough to bring him back to his high.
See the thing is, Pond knows. Pond knows Phuwin wants to be indulged in soft kisses down his nape and sweet touches where he wants them most just as much as he loves being manhandled like a play thing, and see. That’s why having sex with an ex is not a totally bad idea. Phuwin is not saying it’s good, okay? It’s not a good idea, but, well. It’s good.
“Princess,” Pond’s voice is raspy like sandpaper, and it sends chills down Phuwin’s spine. “Keep them tight for me, will you?”
There’s no mistaking what Pond’s talking about from the way his hand is caressing Phuwin’s thigh with feather light touches. He can’t help but whine: “It’s going to chafe without lube, you idiot.”
“Just a little bit, I promise,” Pond doesn’t give up. He never does. “I’ll lube myself up.”
He takes Phuwin’s silence as permission to go, and well. Phuwin does think Pond deserves some rewarding at least for fucking him so good, but Pond doesn’t neglect him in favor of his own pleasure. He slips his hardness in between Phuwin’s thighs and and starts thrusting in short, quick strokes, brushing against Phuwin’s balls and the underside of his dick with every sloppy slide. It’s slippery, it’s wet, it’s already overwhelming as it is but Pond makes sure even Phuwin’s cock gets enough attention, wrapping it in his lubed palm and doesn’t complain about some sudden jerks of Phuwin’s hips into the warmth of his fist when Phuwin loses it a little.
“You’re so good, so good,” Pond growls low and Phuwin swears he can feel the rumble of his chest from where they’re still pressed together like a crisp origami fold, “no one compares.”
There’s an implication there somewhere, Phuwin vaguely realizes but that’s all he can manage at the moment. Whatever it is, though, it’s making Phuwin automatically clamp his thighs even tighter together and Pond’s reaction is almost instantaneous. He’s groaning hot right against Phuwin’s ear, increasing the pace of his hips and his hand around Phuwin at the same time and God, if he comes now from being thigh-fucked he’s going to kill Pond dead. The friction is getting dangerously delicious and even the wet, sticky sound of Pond’s cock sliding in and out, in and out is driving Phuwin closer to the edge, but he doesn’t want to come like this. No, he can’t come like this.
“In me,” he chokes on his own words, shifting in Pond’s arms to turn his head around to meet his lips. He reaches one hand down to hold his cheeks apart and open and just in case he didn’t make himself clear enough, Phuwin repeats right against Pond’s lips: “In me, Pond.”
“Fuck,” Pond was never one with a potty mouth even during fights or nasty, nasty sex. Being able to tear apart his usual composure fills Phuwin with a strange sense of pride that’s not exactly making him any prouder of himself. “Desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”
Phuwin chants a chain of slurred yes, yes, yes and it’s not just to spur Pond. He means it, he’s desperate and if Pond doesn’t put him out of his misery right now, Phuwin would even kneel and beg if that’s what it takes. Lucky for him, he doesn’t need to go that far yet because Pond bottoms out in him in the next breath, so forcefully it pushes Phuwin forward a little.
Pond pulls almost all the way out again, until only the tip is caught on Phuwin’s rim, then slams back in so hard that Phuwin actually feels like he’s going to break in half. He keeps him still with a hand on his hips, fingers digging to Phuwin’s flesh so he can screw that much harder into Phuwin, forcing Phuwin to take like it’s the only thing he’s good for. It makes Phuwin feel so used, like he’s just a fucktoy desperate to serve Pond’s pleasure and God, he’s mean. Phuwin loves it.
“Is this how you want to be fucked?” Pond speeds up then, rutting into Phuwin without any regard to him eventually drooling uncontrollably onto the sheets, or him mewling too much, too much brokenly like a helpless plea. “Is this how you want him to fuck you?”
Phuwin wails, feeling tears gather in his eyes again. It’s building up to what might be the most intense orgasm he’s had in a long, long while - he can feel it, heat pulling in the pit of his stomach deliciously - and yet in the midst of it Phuwin still somehow for some God knows reasons he’s not capable of figuring out yet, feels the need to explain.
And so he does, the words slipping out of him before he knows it: “No, no. Just you.”
Pond fucking chuckles.
And he suspects he must have done something incredibly right because Phuwin gets rewarded generously with a series of very, very well-aimed thrusts then, and oh, Pond is no longer pissed. Phuwin gets to feel so good, and so much that it only takes a couple of well-timed tugs on his leaking cock from Pond’s hand and he’s coming.
“That’s right princess,” Pond fucks him through it, still insistent with his agonizing pace. “Make a mess for me.”
But it just, it just doesn’t end.
He’s coming once but it feels like he’s come three times in the last hour, which, well, he technically should have. Phuwin hears himself cry then cry out Pond’s name, shock after shock rolls through him for minutes that feel like eternities and it still doesn’t stop. His entire body is convulsing uncontrollably from the sheer force of it, so intense that Phuwin almost misses Pond letting out the most delicious moan against his neck. Almost.
Oh, Phuwin realizes. Pond’s coming.
In the end, it takes another while of Pond holding him and murmuring sweet nothings into his ears until the pressure in his lower belly subsides. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he runs his hand through Phuwin’s dampened hair, “I’ve got you.”
For some reason, the thought that comes to Phuwin’s mind before his body gives in to bone-deep exhaustion, is that he’s safe.
Familiarity truly is a scary, scary thing.