✨️Porchay is a math teacher who is wearing clothes considered as feminine for society. He has to face the rejection of some people, making him move out from schools✨️
He is beginning at a new place where the students are in a complicated environment...
(Hiiii🥺✨️💗 how are you ? I hope good, I am sending so muuuuch warmth 🥹 our teachers are here, hope that you will love it 🫂✨️ rake care 💗 love you 💗)
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“What the hell are you doing here?” Kim asks first, not glad to see them.
“Thank you for welcoming us.” Tankhun sighs looking weirdly at them.
“I said why?” Kim asks, looking extremely more disturbed by their presence. Porchay just walks next to him, squeezing his arm softly.
“You didn't answer. We need you for this event Kim.” Kinn explains.
“And so? You decided to find the address of my boyfriend! And to come here, as if it was normal?”
“Kim…” Tankhun pouts lightly.
“Should…should I let you talk?” Porchay whispers to Kim and the soft voice of his boy is bringing calmness to him.
“No.” He answers, putting his hand around his waist and looking straight at his brothers.
“Kim…will you come?”
“If I go, will you just get out of here?”
“We will.” Kinn says, making Tankhun angry.
“Then, you can go away.”
Prochay watches as those men are walking out of his apartment. Kim sighs when the door is closed. He sighs and turns immediately to his boy.
“I am sorry…babe…”
“P’Kim…what happened? Can you tell me?”
“If only…you let me…use your thighs as pillows, please…” He pouts softly.
Porchay giggles and gets rid of his trousers under Kim's surprised expression. He sits on the bed and taps his leg. “Come here my love.”
Kim mostly runs to him. He settles himself in the middle of Porchsy's tight, his head resting on his right leg. The boy caresses his hair, relaxing him a lot.
“My family are…fuckers…” He simply says, feeling unwell to have to explain thus so fast to Porchay.
“I will need…more…”
“Well you know rich people…kinda thriving thanks to the economy, becoming richer and richer and not minding what they destroy.”
“Are they…investing?”
“They do.”
“And what gave you the need to become a teacher?” Porchay asks, curious, his hand not stopping from caressing his hair.
