He Won't Love You Like Me

The minute Porsche walked through the front door of Theerapanyakul's compound, he was greeted by Kinn's dark, dangerous eyes, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stared at him with murderous intent. Still, Porsche masked a brave face, ignored him despite his rapid pulse rate, and walked toward the conjoint bathroom. He had no time for Kinn's shenanigans tonight.

Kinn stood up in one quick motion, stalking toward Porsche. "Where were you?" he asked, arousingly low and deadly—it sent shivers down Porsche's back. Kinn cornered him like a predator cornering its prey, and Porsche took a step back and another—and another—and another before his back collided against the bathroom door. He gulped. Kinn looked furious, and he didn't know why. They fought earlier because it seemed that despite the months of them together, Kinn didn't trust him and didn't have faith in him. "Who the fuck were you with?" Kinn snapped, bringing Porsche back to reality.

Porsche flinched; Kinn had never spoken to him like that before. No matter. He straightened his shoulders and frowned. "What's gotten into you?" he asked, despite the tightness suddenly appearing in his throat. Kinn could be intimidating when he wanted to. It was sort of hot—mostly hot. Porsche cleared his throat before wrinkling his nose when he caught a touch of liquor coming from Kinn. He leaned in and said, "You smell — have you been drinking? " Kinn said nothing; he only stared at Porsche with challenging, piercing eyes. Porsche sighed and relaxed his shoulders. "Look, I just went out for a drive, okay?."

"You went with Vegas, didn't you?" Kinn asked—accused—before he clenched his fists.

Porsche did go with Khun Vegas.

He didn't see anything wrong with it, though. Unlike Kinn, Vegas was nice to him and always treated him like an equal—he trusted Porsche and regarded him like a dear friend or a brother.

At least, that was how it felt.

"Answer me!" Kinn snarled when Porsche did not answer, his eyes burning with wrath, and he trembled, seemingly trying to keep himself from really lashing out.

Porsche's whole body heated up like wildfire. This was the first time he had seen Kinn fuming in a piping-hot rage. It was intoxicating in a sense—sexy and delicious. At that moment, Porsche realized that he enjoyed an angry Kinn; maybe he loved an angry Kinn.

Porsche tried to keep his face void of any shameless emotions and answered, "So what if I did?"

Kinn descended close to his face and knitted his eyebrows. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from him?" He breathed fire and liquor into Porsche's face.

Porsche knew that he was treading on thin ice, and yet part of him wanted to see just how far Kinn would go with this obvious jealousy.

"Why should I listen to you?" Porsche asked, folding his arms and tilting his head straight—a challenge.

Kinn gritted his teeth. "Porsche."

Porsche nearly moans at the mouthwatering drag of his name in Kinn's mouth. If he waited a little longer, he would probably drop to his knees and beg Kinn to take him apart like a desperate slut.

"Vegas doesn't treat me like I don't matter; he trusts me," Porsche said.

It appeared Kinn was on the verge of insanity—of losing it. Suddenly, as quick as lightning, he reached out and snatched Porsche by the neck in a biting grip. Porsche struggled, his fingers instinctively reaching out to grab at Kinn's hold. He choked on his spit, his eyes doubled with terror, and his cock twitched with arousal. "Kinn—what are you doing?" he asked with panic and a slight moan, trying to catch his breath when Kinn tightened his grip on him.

Kinn pressed his body up against Porsche's body and inhaled his scent, probably drinking in his fear and excitement. "I give everything, and this is what you turn around and do?" He grits out into Porsche's face; his words were mean and biting.

For a split second, Kinn's eyes lowered, seemingly wounded, before his grip tightened to the point of pain.

Abruptly, Porsche's hardened cock died down. What was Kinn talking about?

"I don't know what you're talking about." Porsche struggled to breathe, this time really trying to pry Kinn's unrelenting fingers away from his neck.

Despite a worrisome look flashing across Kinn's face, he didn't seem to care about Porsche's struggles. Instead, he said in a cruel tone, "How long has this been going on?"

Porsche frowned and gasped for air. "What the fuck—I don't know what you're talking about!"

Slowly, Kinn released the pressure from Porsche's neck despite keeping a firm grip on him. "Tell me," he said, using his other hand—his fingers—and ghosting them over Porache's clothed cock, and then he snatched it—tight and painful. "How long have you been lying?"

"Kinn," Porsche whined and jerked his hip.

It is rather difficult to explain; however , Porsche's body seized with weakness, with his knees trembling and his lips shuddering. It appeared as if Kinn's dangerous gaze strangely compelled him, and he discovered himself completely embolized while deeply longing and craving more of Kinn's harsh touches.

Kinn descended, his lips an inch away from Porsche's. "Does Vegas fuck you like how I do?" he whispered.

Wait a minute. Porsche's eyes double. All this time, Kinn thought he had been cheating on him with Vegas?! A slight chuckle left his lips. "Yeah, I think you need to sober up." He gasped a shuddering thing when Kinn unbuckled Porsche's belt and dropped his jeans to the floor in a quick motion. "Kinn."

"You know he won't love you, right?" Kinn said, his voice shaking when he grabbed Porsche's cock, then gave it a tight squeeze before he started stroking it—quick and fast with madness. "He won't touch you like me either." Then Kinn kissed him, pressing his long-neglected lips against Porsche's soft, gasping ones, and kissed him with all his tongue and spit in a ravenous display of possessiveness. "He won't fuck you like me."

"Ah, Kinn."

In a daze, Porsche closed his eyes and pressed his body—ablaze with passion—deeper against his lover's before a strange noise left his mouth, and he climaxed, his hot seed spreading all over Kinn's hands, some reaching on his shirt and his trousers.

When he came down from his high, he leaned his whole body weight into Kinn before he pressed his face in the crock of Kinn's neck and said, "I'm not cheating on you, idiot."

Kinn stiffened. However, he wrapped his arms around Porsche's waist, holding him and hugging him. He kissed Porsche's hair and inhaled with his eyes closed. "You better not," he said in a frightening tone—one that implied no leniency or second chances. "Or else..." Kinn tightened his hold, his fingers tightening inside Porache's hair until it stings. "I will not spare you or him."

"Will you kill me?" Porsche asked in a whispered tone; he couldn't help the slip of his tongue.

"No," Kinn answered. "But there will be consequences. Am I clear, baby?"

Porsche swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and he shivered from head to toe. He wasn't frightened earlier; he was now, though. So slowly, he nodded and answered in a whispered tone, "Yes."

It seemed that Kinn had a darkness to him that Porsche was yet to discover.

The End.