Tender gangster

Downpour

"You'll stay outside. Don't you dare go inside, no matter what happens."

When Kinn's order sounded like a thunderclap, you didn't even think for a split second that this was also part of his concern: if a fight broke out, you definitely wouldn't be the first to be shot.

You take the order and wait outside the closed club. Pete and a couple of other bodyguards are with Kinn now.

You look up at the sky, which is being slowly covered with gray creeping clouds. It's not a good prospect if it rains. There's not even a decent canopy to hide from the downpour.

Heavenly water falls on the city within half an hour. And now it's streaming through your short, dark hair, gathering in droplets on your manly cheekbones. The strong body, dressed in the uniform, seems indestructible. Muscles were already flexing beneath the subtle, restrained elegance of the dark suit. Cold water runs down your broad shoulders and gets trapped under the jacket. Your gaze, usually piercing and wary, now seems to be softened a little by the rain. The lips, usually tightly compressed into a line, opened slightly, inhaling the moist, fresh air brought by the thunderstorm.

The rain continues to pour, turning the streets into stormy rivers, but you have to remain steadfast. In a way, you are also like this element, ready at any moment to descend on those who dare to threaten Kinn. Except your master ordered you to wait. And you know very well what insubordination is fraught with. But if the price of the question is Kinn's life— you're not giving a damn about his orders.

Achoo!

Heck! That's all that was needed!

Your shoes were soaked through. It's starting to get chilly. You hear the sounds of footsteps inside the building, and soon through your fused eyelashes you make out the face of Kinn, who unceremoniously grabs you by the shoulders and rudely chastises you:

"Tell me, at what point did you get your brains blown off?! Couldn't you take shelter from the downpour inside?"

"You ordered me to stay outside... achoo!.. So I stayed."

Even through the roar of the rain, you can hear the gnashing of his teeth. And then Kinn grabs your elbow and leads you into the car, into the back seats.

It's warm. It's finally warm. Water drips from you onto the brown skin inside the cabin. Kinn signals the driver to get a spare set of clothes, underwear and shoes out of the trunk — these are always available in case Kinn urgently needs to change his suit.

When they start driving on the way home, the partition between you and the driver is lowered, and then a new order is given by Kinn:

"Take off your clothes. You're going to wear this.

"But..." the items are clearly worth your annual salary.

"Are you going to argue with me? Or are you hoping to stay in the hospital with pneumonia for a couple of weeks or more?"

"No, Khun Kinn."

"No what?"

"I wasn't going to get into the hospital."

"Good. Take off your clothes."

Kinn's order is not unreasonable. In clothes and shoes soaked to the skin, even in the heat, there are chances of a serious cold.

The wet cloth clinging to your body is difficult for your hands to handle. Having Kinn watching you closely doesn't make it any easier. When you're in your underwear, you reach for your trousers, but Kinn stops you by grabbing your wrist:

"What? Are you saying your underpants aren't wet?"

Heat rushes to the chiseled cheekbones.

"Uh... could you turn away?"

"No."

Kinn's cheeky eyes and equally cheeky smile leave no compromises. Do you want a show? Okay. You'll have a it.

It's not at all difficult for you to make a look with a haze. And also defiantly bite his lower lip. Ironically, the appropriate music starts playing in the cabin, and the lights become dimmed. Deliberately, slowly, the fingers slide to the elastic band. In the flickering light playing on your skin, the outlines of strong, trained muscles appear. You take your time, letting Kinn's gaze linger on every curve, examine the dark triangle in your groin, and then see everything else. A spark of excitement lights up in your eyes, covered by a penumbra.

You can hear Kinn swallowing hard, shifting his legs and connecting them more tightly.

I see, Khun Kinn. But it serves you right.

When you reach for clean underwear, you deliberately spread your legs, forcing Kinn to look away first. Then you hear a hoarse:

"Get dressed quickly. We'll be there soon."

Finally, the little show is coming to an end. You're warm, cozy, and having a little fun. And also managed to teach this cheeky asshole a little lesson. And maybe tonight he would need to relieve the tension with another escort toy-boy. Let it be. You hardly care about that. Almost.