⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
In the mafia world, young boys-age 18-20-are being sold as dolls to everyone who pays well. The boys are well-trained... they are no longer humans, just dolls ready to serve their master.
Kim left the mafia years ago, but on his 23r...
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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Kim ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
After a while of Chay not saying anything, Kim stands up and gently wraps his hands around Chay's legs, lifting them onto the sofa. He winks at Chay, "make yourself comfortable, beautiful. In the bedroom, I told you that you could rest but so far all we did was talk. I know that all those rules I set for you, made you tired. I promise I'll be more gentle from now on."
Kim reaches for a pillow on the other side of the sofa. He loves this one—it's not too big but not too small either, and it's soft enough to make him feel like he is floating up in the clouds. Chay will like this one, he is sure. He gives it to Chay, "here, this one's good." And maybe Chay needs a blanket as well. Kim looks around the living room, "hmm... and... are you cold?"
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Chay ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
Kim isn't talking anymore. Porchay likes that silence just looking at him, just feeling close to the one he needs to be there for. His own expression freezes again when he feels those hands taking his legs and putting them on the sofa. He is resting on it and the display of the doll is familiar, not foreign, not unknown, not unreal, but it is like finding back a piece of something really important but being incapable of totally blending with it. The wink Kim makes towards him is so intriguing. Wink. Wink. It looks like the intimacy of the eye as if his master wanted to say something through the blink, the blink which isn't puppet-like and yet he is communicating like this. Interesting.
Porchay feels speechless. Not because he likes the sofa, not because Kim is clearly taking care of him. He feels acknowledged. He doesn't even know if this word is still in his vocabulary. He feels that he is so tired, exhausted, but it's not worth a punishment or anything else. It is worth recognizing his condition, he doesn't himself acknowledge it as a real condition now. But it catches another part of his heart which was freely and widely living out of its own environment.
Porchay shakes his head, he feels warmer than he had ever felt before. "I'm good. The hoodie Kim gave me is nice." And it allows him to disappear more in that position, big and soft.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Kim ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
Kim smiles, "I'm glad. But if you get cold," he points at the arm of the sofa right next to Chay, "use the blanket, okay? Or tell me and we can cuddle," he jokes.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Chay ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
The blanket isn't really the point here. He isn't cold, he knows the blanket. "We can cuddle" is bringing all of Porchay's attention to Kim. Cuddles sound good, so good, he needs to provide tenderness or sexiness, this was how they called this. It is one of Porchay's strong desires to accomplish for Kim, even if he doesn't realize at all what it means for him, even if he still doesn't get the difference between this, whatever.
