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Life is neither black nor white.
There's millions of different shades of grey, forming a dense cloud. A beautifully tragic swirl of colourless life—decisions regretted, and those not yet made. It's something that Mok is familiar with. A truth he accepted long ago, when he vowed to protect his best friend with his life. No hesitation, ever. He owes it to him. And, painfully, Mok is a man of his word. He's always been, and will never stop valuing the vows he gives; the promises he makes.
It's why Rome is dangerous. Why being near him is an inevitable invitation for chaos to creep into Mok's life.
He likes to pretend it hasn't already.
The door is opened just a crack, and the sound of sappy love seeps through it like a mocking laugh right into Mok's face. He doesn't mind. In fact, he's happy for Khun Thee—Happy that the rule is abolished, and he's finally happy. That, even though Mok isn't able to anymore, there's finally someone in his life who will keep him close company.
A small smile creeps onto his lips, and really, he almost feels the urge to knock now, just to tease the two lovebirds. Just as he ponders whether to leave them be or not, there's a voice behind him—
“I didn't think my brother could be so lovestruck,” it hums, and Mok whips around immediately, swallowing.
As always, Rome stands there, self-assured front as easy as air, and the burning heat behind his gaze unavoidable with how he's staring right at him. Like he's pinning Mok down, slowly creeping forward. Always a dance of how close they can get before they burn. Mok is allowed just a little closer to this fire that is Rome every time, like a taunt, and it's maddening to the point that his head spins.
“When did you get back from Hong Kong?" Mok asks, as if that matters. Because there's nothing else he can say. He has to swallow the joy, the relief, the you came back, everything.
Like his most difficult temptation, Rome's lips tug into a soft grin as he steps closer, gaze trailing over Mok's face in a long, appreciative drag. “I missed you a lot, so I…”
No.
Mok doesn't let him finish, forcing an exasperated breath to leave him, even though he feels like screaming.
He reaches for the door, and pulls it shut, turning around to leave. Quickly. Mok has to collect himself, stay calm, before—
“Wait.” The words make Mok's body pause by itself. His legs stop working, and he stands there almost a bit helplessly. It feels harder to breathe. It's not fair. Always—Mok has always been Khun Thee's employee, his bodyguard. He takes orders from Thee. And yet one word from Rome has such power over Mok. It's humiliating.
A long silence stretches between them, and somehow, that's even worse. He can hear Rome move slowly behind him, but he's too afraid to turn around. Too afraid that looking at this alluring flame for too long will make him weak. Make him give in. And Mok can't. He isn't allowed to. Not only does he not deserve it—Rome is so far above him it's almost ridiculous—but he just can't. How is he supposed to dedicate his life to Khun Thee when his heart would choose Rome over him? Just what kind of vowed bodyguard is he?
That heated gaze is at the back of Mok's head, and he simultaneously want it to stop, and for it to never leave him. Maybe he's finally lost it.
“You look thinner.” Rome's voice is gentle. Caring. He's being genuine. He always seems to be. “You should eat properly. Don't just work all the time, hm?”
Then, finally—
“I'm graduating soon.”
Mok feels a lump in his throat. He swallows around it, blinking away the sudden wetness in his eyes before he turns, finally facing the other man. After taking a deep breath, he nods. Once. Simple. Professional. “Yes,” he confirms, because he knows. Of course he knows. How couldn't he? Rome's graduation is a time he's been counting the seconds towards, like that would help his sanity.
The way Rome is leaning against the wooden railing is dangerous. Everything he does is dangerous.
“Soon I'll find out which side of the world I'll be sent to,” the other man says, and that intense gaze is still permanently boring into Mok. A hot, burning sensation. “It could be nearby, or very far away.”
“Yes,” Mok repeats.
It's not fair. He knows this. He knows all of this—is painfully aware of the possibility that Rome could be ripped out of his reach, so that even seeing him for a few days for work would be impossible. Ever since he's first been burnt by Rome's flame, he's known. So why is the other telling him this?
Before Mok can voice any of this—he wouldn't have been able to anyway—Rome suddenly steps closer.
It's a dangerous, sudden movement, even though Rome is walking slowly. The heavy, thick silk rope that has tied them together for so long slacks between them as the distance between them closes, and Mok swallows, gaze following the other man's face. There's still a respectable amount of space between them—nothing inappropriate—but it doesn't stay professional for long. “Can you come with me?” Rome asks, and despite everything inside of Mok yearning to, he doesn't even let himself consider the possibility.
“I can't,” he says instead. Firm.
Rome's face twists a little. The aloofness that usually surrounds him quickly melting away, revealing the more honest person beneath it. He's scowling, jaw set. “Mok,” he tries, but they shouldn't be doing this. They can't be doing this.
“I work for Khun Thee,” Mok says, trying, really trying to put an end to this. “My job is here. I wasn't… Trained to be anyone else's right-hand man.” If only that was all they're talking about right now.
Now, Rome almost looks angry. Or perhaps it's something else.
“Stop acting like your life isn't yours, will you?” His voice is a little breathy, mask slipping from his face, desperation seeping through. They can't do this.
Mok swallows, taking a breath to ground himself, trying so desperately to keep a straight face. To stay calm. Unaffected. But he's already beyond that point.
So, he speaks again, voice cracking at the edges, “but it's not.”
And that's that.
Quickly, Mok turns. No more delays. No more chances for Rome to pull him in. No more opportunities for these painful contacts with fire. He starts walking down the hall in quick strides, gritting his teeth, keeping up the act. No matter what—It's better for Rome to think he doesn't feel the same. To think that this isn't what they were meant to be.
“What if you went with me as someone else?” Rome asks, and Mok's brain screams at his body to keep moving.
It doesn't.
“Not as my bodyguard. Not as someone who works for ARSENI,” Rome continues, like it's really that easy. Like there's nothing else to worry about. “Could we go together then?”
Mok feels his chest tighten. Of course he knows what Rome is asking him. He knows what he's suggesting. No, what he's offering. The other man is laying it out on a silver platter for Mok to take, but it's not that easy. It can't be that easy, it's never been that easy. He turns around to face Rome, and parts his lips, as though to say something. Yet, no words leave him, and he shuts his mouth again. What would he even say? He can't lie. But he also can't say that, if that was possible, he wouldn't hesitate to say yes. He can't say that a part of him would follow him anywhere as long as he asked.
Suddenly, Rome steps closer again. A constant game of chasing, and Mok faintly wonders how long Rome will tolerate having to chase him at all. Perhaps he'll grow tired of it soon.
His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden scent of expensive cologne. So close that it burns a little in his nose.
Rome is crowding him, stepping closer until Mok's back connects to the wall behind him, and suddenly the entire estate feels tiny. The space around them shrinks until only they remain. Them and the wall Rome all but pushed him into, one arm next to Mok's head, faces so close that he can feel Rome's breath on his lips.
“Just tell me…If you feel anything,” the shorter man says, staring him down. “If you feel the same, I'll take care of the rest.”
Every instinct in Mok's body is telling him to finally grab at Rome's ridiculously expensive shirt, and pull him into a kiss. To kiss him until they're both breathless, panting, weak in the knees. He wants to. He wants to, because Rome manages to make it sound so easy. Like Thee doesn't exist, like Master doesn't exist, like Mok's vow doesn't exist. He makes it sound like they could just be together, if Mok finally admitted to this connection between them. Just like that.
A part of him wants to believe him. The other part knows it can't be that easy.
But life is neither black nor white, and Mok is simply at his limit.
A shaky breath leaves his parted lips before the tension melts out of him in one go. It's such a relieving sensation that he nearly lets it distract him from the matter at hand: He grabs for Rome's collar, surprising the othe man visibly, before he pulls him in.
Their lips don't meet slowly. They've been waiting too long.
Instead, they crash into eachother like waves. Mok leans forward into the kiss, chasing soft lips until Rome shoves him back against the wall with his eagerness. He finally tugs his hand out of his pocket, grabbing at Mok's hips, his waist. Nothing about them is patient. Their kiss deepens, tongue pushing past Mok's lips, licking into his mouth. A fast, eager push and pull until Rome's nose knocks rather harshly into Mok's glasses, and the former lets out a breathy chuckle into the kiss.
They part reluctantly, noses brushes more than once before Rome finally gives Mok some breathing room. Not that he wants it. What is he doing?
The arm on the wall next to him moves, and then a hand slowly slips his glasses off, folding them neatly. Rome's grin is intoxicating as he stares him down, gaze hot and heavy. Mok swallows as the other drags the frame of his glasses down his throat, the cold metal almost making him shiver.
“You still haven't said it,” Rome whispers, moving the glasses upwards, and pushing them against Mok's bottom lip. His mouth opens slightly, and Rome tracks the motion with a dark gaze.
He wants to say it. He wants to, he wants to, he really does. But his head is spinning, and Rome's cologne is burning in his lungs, and he can't speak.
The metal frame continues pushing at his lip while Rome stares at him, toying with him, teasing him. Something he's awfully skilled at. “It's easy. Just admit it, Mok,” he hums, almost like he's taking pity, voice soft, even as that sinful gaze snaps back up to meet his. “I feel the same for you, Khun Krit. Say it. I love you.”
Mok's lungs stutter, mind malfunctioning.
The grin on Rome's face widens.
“Or did kissing me once break that smart mind of yours?” he asks teasingly, leaning closer, their noses brushing again as he watches the way Mok's glasses tug on his lip. “All I want is to hear it.”
Perhaps the kiss did break him, because Mok catches the frame of his glasses with his teeth, pressing his tongue against the metal. He watches the way Rome's pupils dilate, and then the way his gaze snaps up again, meeting his with a surprised hunger. Someone could hear them—someone could see them. But the world is neither black nor white, and maybe Mok can still be a man of his word if he breaks one promise. Just this once.
“I…” He swallows, voice quiet. “I feel the same for you, Khun Krit.” His eyes almost flutter shut when Rome pushes even closer, as though trying to absorb the words. “I…I love you.”
The admission doesn't hang in the air for long.
Mere seconds after it leaves Mok's lips, his glasses are suddenly discarded, and before he has the mind to complain, Rome shoves him into the wall so violently with a kiss that he lets out a soft grunt. A tongue quickly licks back into his mouth, and this time, Mok meets it with his own, arms slowly creeping up to wrap around the other man's shoulders, one hair in Rome's perfectly styled hair. He's always wanted to mess it up.
That pesky hand on his waist is pulling his shirt out of his trousers, and Mok swallows the saliva in his mouth. He's not quite sure whose it is anymore.
“Khun—Khun Krit,” he breathed between kisses, gently tugging at the other's hair, putting distance between them.
Rome looks…Wild.
His pupils are blown wide, his lips are wet, and pink. He's staring impatiently at Mok, with his eyes wide, like he's confused why they're stopping. An overeager hunting dog ready to eat its prey. Mok shouldn't be so happy to be the meal. He's stronger—he could easily turn things around.
He doesn't.
“We're still in the hallway. Let's stop here,” Mok whispers, and he's embarrassed by the breathiness of his own voice.
For a moment, Rome looks disappointed, a frown creeping onto his face. However, it's quickly replaced by an ever-growing grin, and oh, Mok doesn't have a good feeling about this at all. “You're right. The hallway isn't a good place to be doing this, is it?” Rome hums, squeezing Mok's hips once before letting go, and instead grabbing his wrist. “Let's go, then.”
There's no time for Mok to process what is happening before he's dragged towards one of the luxurious bedrooms. Rome's luxurious bedroom.
As soon as they stumble inside, the door slams shut, and Mok is once again pinned against a surface.
Rome doesn't even attempt to hold himself back anymore—His hands tug and push at Mok's clothes until he's shirtless against the cold wood of the bedroom door. A tongue drags down his throat, to his collarbones, and everything is spinning.
One hand moves up to squeeze at Mok's chest as Rome bites and sucks at the skin of his throat, while Mok's hands hold onto the other man's hair for dear life.
They lost shirts and trousers by the time they finally reach the bed—Rome had him pinned against the mirror for two whole minutes while licking down his spine, and tugging off the last of his clothes. Mok's entire body is tingling, and he doesn't even complain as he's pushed onto the plush, ridiculously large mattress. His vision is a little blurry, but he can still make out the huge grin on Rome's face as he approaches the bed himself, one knee planting itself between Mok's legs far too casually.
“Do you know…,” Rome breathes, leaning down, and kissing up his stomach, “how difficult it was to hold back?”
Mok swallows, head falling back against the sheets, hand once more finding the other's hair. “You've been holding back? I'm curious to see what your letting go looks like.”
Apparently, his words were a mistake.
Rome immediately straightens before he leans over him, blocking out the light with a chuckle. His eyes are half-lidded as one hand presses at Mok's hips, and the other grabs his face.
“You're about to find out,” he drawls, fingers squeezing the skin he's touching like he wants to make sure the touch lingers on Mok's body.
They're a mess of wet kisses, and Rome guides them further up the bed, until they reach the headboard. “Turn around,” he hums, voice scratchy, and it's so sexy that Mok can't even pretend not to listen. His face pushes into the pillow a little as he settles on his stomach, and he feels it burning with embarrassment, feeling Rome's gaze drag over his body. He barely has to touch him to make Mok shiver, and it's the most humbling thing the bodyguard's ever experienced.
Rome slicks up his fingers so quickly that Mok barely registers it happening. Wet kisses trail down his spine, and before he knows it, he's muffling his moans with the help of a pillow that smells like the sinful man behind him.
No negative thoughts dare to enter Mok's mind anymore, because he's not letting anything take this from him—the way Rome's free hand trails up his side, his teeth nip at his shoulder, and his fingers open him up slowly. Mok is leaking onto the sheets, and usually, he'd feel ashamed. He should feel ashamed. But how can he, when Rome's hand is speeding up, and suddenly those perfect lips are mouthing at his ear?
“Good?” Rome breathes, like he doesn't know what he's doing to him, and Mok can only respond with a muffled cry.
When the other's fingers pull out with an obscene noise, and Rome gently nudges at his shoulder to turn him back around, Mok goes willingly. Even though he's leaking, and flushed, and absolutely not put together in any way. He looks up at the other man, and can't help reaching out and grabbing Rome's face, pulling him into another, deep kiss.
His legs spread, pulling upwards as Rome positions himself.
Both of them let out loud moans as he sinks in, their kisses barely coherent anymore.
Rome starts slowly, one hand gripping at Mok's thigh while the other is resting next to his head on the pillow for balance. His hips move steadily, and Mok has only half a mind to continue licking into Rome's mouth, trying to keep quiet. He manages for only a measly minute before that evil, evil, dangerous man above him grins into the kiss, and pulls away to suck marks into his chest, and collarbones. Without anything to muffle them, Mok's moans echo in the room, and if he wasn't so distracted by the ever quickening thrusts, he'd worry someone might hear them.
But Rome's own whines and grunt sound just below his ear now, and everything's more than okay. Mok moves a hand back into the other's hair while his other hand grips at Rome's back tightly, nails digging into the skin.
It doesn't take either of them long to finish.
Mok's orgasm crashes into him first, violently, and he arches beneath Rome with a silent scream, face scrunched up with pleasure. His fingers dig harder into the other's scalp, and back, and perhaps that's Rome's tipping point, because he follows soon after.
He slowly lowers himself on top of his lover as they catch their breaths for a moment, chests heaving, lips parted with desperate pants and gasps.
“I love you,” Rome whispers into the hollow space of Mok's neck, and all he can do in response is stare at the bed's canopy with blurry vision.
What is he doing?
Life is neither black nor white, Thee and Rome aren't mutually exclusive, and Mok is really exhausted.
“I love you too… Khun Krit.”