Trapped in Kismet [KinnPorsche] [Kinn x Porsche]

Part 9: The Day After

How did things turn out this way?

One second Porsche's life was relatively put together: he had a good job at the bar, he had his casual line-ups ready to go when he needed to release pent up stress, and he had a brother who loved him.

Nothing was missing.

Sure, he didn't have parents, a viable relationship or money; but those were technicalities.

But staring at himself in the wide-length mirror of the hotel suite's bathroom he found himself in, Porsche had no idea how to compute the view.

"What the fuck did I do...?" Porsche remarked to his own reflection.

His fingers curled onto the cool sink top to have a stable grip as he leaned forward to stare at the imagery glaring back at him.

This was not him.

The thoroughly shagged out man was not Porsche Kittisawat.

The bruised, hickey covered skin, his plush lips, and wild black hair strewn all over were not him. Well, the hair probably was a norm. He never woke up looking so delectable. It literally sent shivers down his naked body in recollection of how he got like that.

The memory of a pair of smirking lips that were planted to every inch of his body, worshipping his chest and his neck as evidenced by the darkening marks (Kinn had a chest kink he thought amused), those long, pale fingers that maneuvered, manipulated, and manhandled him – the 3 M's.

He never let any man do that to him since Somchai.

Porsche prided himself in always maintaining control over his encounters, especially sexually.

He let Kinn Theerapanyakun handle him. He just conceded everything to Kinn the moment the man made him cum on just his fingers, flipped him over and demanded he call himself beautiful.

What sorcery was that?

And now, waking up when the need for bathroom relief came; he had barely recognized himself as he went to wash his hands. Porchay would probably call him the token 'oblivious' one when it came to these situations.

He always threw himself head long and never thought about the consequences.

It was why he got hurt. It was why he could never trust this to be more than a one time.

That thought stabbing more than anything else. It made his heart harden once more.

The sweet words Kinn had whispered to him the night before at the party, the touches that were gentle and firm, and that requirement of affirmation to his own self-worth. They meant nothing when morning came. Kinn had said they would talk. What was there to talk about?

Morning was already there, and dread filled Porsche like ice to his veins. He didn't want to look at Kinn. He didn't want to be rejected. Not again.

He was a contract. Purchased and used.

You sold yourself for 50,000 Baht...what a cheap lay Porsche, a voice that sounded like his ex's echoing in his head.

He had been distracted by the golden necklace that glinted around his neck now, mockingly like the tattoo imprinted on his back and those sneaking smiles. Why had Kinn gotten him jewelry? Even if it was for a one-time date, was that normal behavior? He doubted it. The tall tales the escorts that popped by the bar always complained about their dates being so cheap.

Was it because Kinn was a man of clear power, wealth, and prestige that Porsche had to fall in line to that standard? The clothes, the necklace, it was just an appearance he had to play.