Khaotung walked down the hallway towards First's room, balancing a tray of first-aid supplies and bandages in his hands. He knocked softly on the door, his nerves getting the better of him.
"Come in," came First's commanding voice from inside.
Khaotung entered cautiously, pushing the door open. The room was spacious, but its décor was elegantly minimalistic. Grey curtains hung over the windows, black furniture was arranged around the room, and the wooden flooring gleamed softly under the sunlight streaming through the partially open blinds.
First sat on the edge of his bed, his arm in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He glanced up from a document he was reading, his expression stern.
"Put the tray on the side table," First ordered, his tone crisp and authoritative.
Khaotung moved quickly to comply, carefully placing the tray down on the side table. He turned back to face First, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Take off my shirt," First instructed bluntly.
Khaotung's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
"I don’t like repeating myself. Take off my shirt and change the bandages," First said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Khaotung muttered under his breath, "Geez, why are you so grumpy all the time?" He shot a fleeting glance at First before starting to unbutton his shirt.
"Now, open the strap from my neck and try to remove my sleeve," First directed, his tone unwavering.
Khaotung followed the instructions, carefully working to remove First’s shirt. As the garment came off, Khaotung couldn’t help but notice the sight before him. First’s chest was marked with a constellation of scars amidst smooth, golden skin and well-defined muscles. Khaotung’s gaze lingered for a moment before he focused on the task at hand.
"If you're done staring at my chest, you can change my bandage now," First remarked dryly, making Khaotung startle slightly.
"I wasn’t staring at your chest. I was looking at your scars," Khaotung retorted defensively.
"Sure," First smirked knowingly, an eyebrow raised.
Khaotung began unwrapping the old bandage, revealing the swollen, bruised arm beneath. Guilt gnawed at him as he inspected the injury, a stark reminder of his own role in causing it.
"It really is broken," Khaotung observed quietly, his voice tinged with remorse as he gently cleaned around the injury with cotton.
"Why, did you think I was lying?" First raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Well, it’s just... it’s pretty bad," Khaotung admitted, glancing up briefly before resuming his work.
Their gazes locked for a moment, and Khaotung inadvertently applied too much pressure while cleaning. First winced in pain, causing Khaotung to mutter an apology.
"Be gentle," First admonished, his voice deep and strained.
"It’s hard to focus when you’re staring at me like that," Khaotung admitted, trying to keep his voice steady while concentrating on the bandage.
"Why? Are you scared?" First teased with a smirk, his gaze still fixed on Khaotung.
Khaotung smirked back, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he applied a bit more pressure than necessary. "Oh, I’m just trying to see how you handle a little discomfort," he said with playful defiance.
"Ow, I said be careful," First grunted through clenched teeth, his irritation growing as Khaotung’s actions became more forceful.
Khaotung’s smile widened slightly. "Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to be gentle, but I guess I’m very bad at it." His tone was light but carried an underlying edge of challenge.
YOU ARE READING
You're Mine, I'm Yours
Aléatoire"Khautong, a university student and part-time worker, accidentally collided with the Mafia boss while riding his bike. As compensation for breaking the boss's arm in the accident, Khautong was coerced into working for him. Determined to end his invo...
