Archive of Our Own

“You are not dying on me, c’mon.”

Chan is in a state of panic, Big can see his form keeping up with the teal gown-wearing paramedics. This isn’t the first time. It is almost comical how Big has managed to get himself severely injured three times in the past months. All because of Porsche. Fucking Porsche.

Big wants to speak to Chan, tell him it doesn’t hurt that bad (it does) and that he is crushing his hand (he isn’t).

The oxygen mask keeps all sound from coming out, his brain is trying to process the pain and pretend it doesn’t exist, and most importantly, he is trying to keep his eyes on Chan. That task alone is taking all of Big’s focus.

“He is fighting the anesthesia.” Someone says somewhere to Big’s right.

Chan looks up at the person, and Big’s ribcage hurts out of how much he wants to yell for those black eyes to focus back on him. Always back on him. From the other side of the pool, the gym, from the shadows of the shooting range or from the other car. Knowing Chan is looking at Big has always been some sort of anchor. Something to pull Big back into reality.

Chan nods.

Everything starts to blur.

“You’ll be fine, Big. I promise you, I’ll see you back here in a minute.” Those gorgeous eyes, so filled with concern and hope, good God Big doesn’t know what he will do if he doesn’t get to see them again.

So he sighs. And coughs. Holy shit that fucking hurts.

Chan squeezes his hand and puts it to his lips. Big thanks the heavens they aren’t checking his vitals because he can feel his heart racing. From the pain, the exhaustion and the outright love he feels for that man. However, right after the adrenaline rush subsides, he starts seeing dark around the edges.

He drifts away but not before sending a silent message to Chan: Wait for me.

*

Chan is 26 when a bloody mess of a guy is thrown at the gym by his feet.

“Make him useful.”

Big is 19 when he gets up on wobbly feet, spits the clot of blood pooling in his mouth and looks at he, who will become his world.

*

It’s pure agony.

Chan has been working under the main Theerapanyakul family for almost ten years now, so he’s had his fair share of grief and loss. But, for the most part, it has been short lived and cordial: they all know what they are getting into when they sing up for the job.

Everyone but motherfucking Porsche.

Chan sighs as he lowers his head to his chest, eyes fluttering closed. He is absolutely exhausted, his legs have long since stopped shaking but now are bouncing with anxiety. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Chan only sees Big’s bloody form behind his eyelids. He only hopes Tawan’s death was just as painful.

The house is in a limbo state, the calm before the storm. Everyone is pretending everything is fine, that since the culprit has been eliminated, no more problems shall arise. Everyone knows it is bullshit.

Chan would love to indulge in this fantasy, to pretend everything is fine so he can enjoy a small vacation.

But Big decided to be a fucking idiot and jump in front of a gun to protect another bodyguard, putting his life at risk like the stupid noble guy that he is. Chan understands the urge, he would also jump in front of a whole army for Big, but he also allows himself to hate him for being so reckless. Does he think his life is so worthless?

Chan sighs. None of that. He can’t be mad at Big when he needs him the most.

So Big did a big Oops and how he is here, spending hours on this chair as the skin around his eyes tenses tiredly, his stomach grumbles and his bladder begs for release.

Chan has no intentions to leave.

It’s been almost six hours since the surgery started, when finally a figure emerges from the operating room. At first Chan doesn’t pay it much mind, maybe an assistant has hit their limit due to the length of the operation. But then, a couple more silhouettes appear behind the opaque door.

The doctor and the two assistants seem as surprised to see Chan as he is to see them.

His knees wobble when he stands up, and they shake off their stupor at the sight.

“How is he?”

The doctor takes off her mask, the assistants do as much. How dramatic, Chan thinks but keeps his mouth shut, knowing that anger will take this nowhere.

“He’ll live.” The doctor announces.

And it’s like the heavens have parted, ripping open the sky with angelic choirs and celestial light, tearing the entire mansion apart to bless this occurrence. Chan has never been a believer of any faith, so he lets his body relax in relief instead. Big is a fucking tank, he’s made of diamonds. Everyone knew as much when he first started and he only has proven them right. Surpassing any and every expectations.

God Chan is going to kiss that bastard to next Sunday.

“But, right now he is unconscious. We can’t confirm when he is going to wake up.” The doctor states putting on sanitizing gel that an assistant has offered. “It’s a matter of how his body will react to the surgery and how it will recover.”

Chan nods. Of course, Big has to understand that he isn’t immortal, even if he has decided to put that theory to test three times now this month. Maybe three shots to the fucking gut will teach him.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him for the next 48 hours. Beyond that, it’s all on him.”

Chan nods again, he has lost his words. The thought of letting any sound out terrifies him, knowing it would probably be a sob. Chan doesn’t sob, he doesn’t cry or weep. Swore he wouldn’t do that again by his mother’s grave. Yet he also swore to never give his heart out again and here we are.

The doctor bows and starts walking after Chan’s grateful bow. However one of the assistant turns and puts his hand on Chan’s shoulder. “They’ll wheel him into a private room shortly, Kun Korn has decided he deserves the Bishop suite. You’ll be able to stay with him during his recovery.”

The audacity.

Baffled doesn’t begin to cover it. Chan wants to grab that kid by the collar of his smock and shake until his brain is squishy mud in his brain.

Yet again, he decides against it.

It is obvious he has been worrying over Big, after all he’s been waiting for six hours and he doesn’t look too fresh himself. He is also the head chief of all the bodyguards, so anyone can mistake his concern for duty. But apparently, he isn’t fooling anyone.

The assistant leaves.

Chan grabs his jacket from the chair next to the one he had been sitting on, and heads towards the Bishop suite.

And if he has tears down his cheeks, nobody comments on it.

*

Chan is 28 when he overhears Big telling Ken about his crush on Kinn.

He is on his way to report the last mission’s results to Kinn when the two body guards at the door talk in hushed voices. He can hear moans muffled through the walls of Kinn’s room. Big looks down to his feet, Ken places a reassuring hand on Big’s shoulders.

“One day, man.” He says in English. “Someone is gonna worship the floor you step on.”

Chan appears in front of them and Big clears his throat. He is so ridiculously handsome, and his hair is growing long.

“Remember, no hairstyle that may cover your eyes at work.” He already has chosen to ignore Big’s piercings, for some reason he can’t seem to deny Big as much as the rest.

That reason being that Big has enraptured his heart. Arm is still fixing the wall of the shooting range Chan all but demolished after the realization that, if asked, Chan would absolutely devour Big.

With a nod at the bodyguards, Chan looks at the door to Kinn’s room. More moaning. Chan shakes his head and sighs. All comments he has on the matter have already been transferred and dismissed by Kun Korn.

The next day, Chan helps Big tie his hair up in a ponytail.

*

Everything is dull and heavy, it is like the air, the sky and universe itself is a weigh thatt has been placed on Big. And no, it’s not the same type of weight like when that stupid moron Chan decides to become a blanket at crack-ass in the morning, his snores shaking Big awake.

It’s cold, rock solid and it holds Big down oppressing. Trapped by the void. He is experiencing some sort of sleep paralysis but he can’t see anything. No demon, no room. Just absolute darkness and the despair that comes with not being able to move.

Oh, this is absolutely awful.

He has to wake up.

Come on.

He has somebody waiting for him. He has to move. One leg, just- okay maybe, just a toe or one finger. Big doesn’t know to who or what is he bargaining with, but he is about to start begging when his thumb moves. Okay, he can feel what’s under it.

It’s a hand.

He knows that hand, Big could recognize those scarred knuckles anywhere, even in this weird not-asleep-but-definitely-not-awake state he is in.

Chan is here. Chan is right here and Big can’t see him or talk to him, or fucking kiss him. Which is so annoying, it’s frustrating. Big wants to scream. This is more infuriating than not being able to blow him in the middle of the woods when Chan looked so delicious in that damn shirt and bulletproof vest.

Goddamn it.

Wait, can he grow boners in that state? Maybe that will wake him up.

No, come on Big, think. Think. You have to wake up.

“Big?” Why is his voice so far away? He is right there, he is holding Big’s hand, why does Chan sound worlds away? “Big, don’t-“

What the fuck is that beeping noise? Why is it so loud? Big can’t barely hear Chan and now that stupid robotic alarm is going off. Shut up. Shut up! Where is Chan?

“His brain activity is spiking.” And who the fuck is that? Is that a woman? Who is she?

“Big-“

Chan I can hear you, I can feel you, I’m right here. Please.

Help me.

“Big!”

Chan!

“Stop.” The woman again, Big hates her already. “He is waking up.”

*

Big is 23 when Kinn introduces Tawan as his partner. The family seem okay with it, since Tawan’s background is clear enough: no prior dealings with any rival group, no known connections to the minor family. He is clean. Filthy clean.

Big almost bursts his knuckles open against the punching bag that night.

Chan is there to patch him up, no questions asked. And Big could almost cry. Almost. Chan is always so reliable, so strong and steady. He is a lighthouse in the chaotic tides that drive the Theerapanyakul household. He always knows what to say, what to do. Kun Korn’s trusty right hand man to keep the bodyguards in shape and ready.

And Big’s heart, although shattered, sparks up when Chan’s speaks with that soothing voice of his.

“I think you could use some rest.” Chan pats his arm. “Come on.”

Big nods and obliges, however he is unable to look at Chan’s eyes.

Have they always been this big? This attentive? These pools of never ending stars?

*

It’s nothing and all at once.

Similar to how they say the universe was born: there was nothing, not even light, not even nothing. And then everything. Time and space and atoms, and light, and movement, and stillness. And it’s all so overwhelming that after spending all his brainpower to open his eyes, Big closes them again and frowns.

The light is warm, but it is definitely not Big’s room or Chan’s. The light overhead resembles a chandelier and Big’s first instinct is to weakly duck away as it looks like it will fall on him.

That first thought is quickly overwritten by the sudden feeling of Chan’s hand on his. Gripping tight at the sudden spasmodic movement. And then it goes back to being a tender and welcoming touch, grounding and reassuring, just like Chan himself. He just overflows in every aspect of the word, he has so much to give always. And it is all for Big.

Big has always been greedy.

He has so much to tell him.

Tawan. Vegas. Porsche’s younger sibling, the Yakuzas, and the Italians, and the minor family.

And I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.

But that damn mask is covering his face, and suddenly he can breathe too much, and he needs that stupid thing out of the way so maybe he can kiss Chan, but his hands seem to not be cooperative right now, one of them trapped by Chan’s grip and-

“Careful.” So that’s the woman. Doctor Daisy. Big remembers her from where he got a bullet in his arm. And from when he fell off a bike. Yeah Big owes her like a whole house by the beach just for how many times she’s brought him back. “Let me help you with that.”

The mask first lowers the input of air before is being removed.

Big has long since stopped caring about Daisy and the damn mask, turning his head he has found Chan’s eyes, just as he remembered them, looking back at him. That gaze that is only for him, adoring and soft  and private. Big only gets to see it after Chan has had him in any way they both wanted. He calls him good boy with those eyes. Chan’s good boy.

“Don’t’ cry.” Big rasps out. It is barely a sentence, and it barely registers as words.

But Chan sniffles and looks away momentarily. Dr. Daisy doesn’t seem to notice, and if she does, she pays no mind to it, busy checking Big’s vitals and fiddling with her tablet.

Big wants to say so much, but not while they have company, since all that will pour out of his mouth is going to be for Chan’s ears only. So, for now, he squeezes Chan’s hand as hard as he can manage, and nods his head.

Again, Dr. Daisy doesn’t seem to give a fuck. “Welcome back to Earth.” She deadpans. “Your vitals seem steady enough, but you've had a rough wake up. You didn’t have to rush, buddy. Everything is good in the family.”

Big closes his eyes. At least Big almost dying had been worth it. “They got Tawan?”

Chan clears his throat before Dr. Daisy can even catch a breath. “I’ll fill him in later.”

Oh he will be filling something in later, alright.

Dr. Daisy seems pleased enough in her stoic type of way. She looks down at her tablet and back at Big. “In a few minutes someone should pop-up to check on the wounds. They were nasty shots, even with the bulletproof vest, the fucker got too close.”

Great. Chan didn’t need to know that. Big feels as if he had done something bad at school and the teacher was telling his parents about it. Which is fucking ironic given that Chan is not his dad. Well, he has called him Daddy after an hour of edging, though.

Dr. Daisy removes the sheets from Big’s body, which makes him shudder at the sudden change of temperature, his hospital gown resembles more of a robe, which is pulled slightly to the side to reveal his bandaged stomach. And down his hip. Dr. Daisy checks the bandages, some browning at the edges, and taps away in her tablet.

Big purses his lips into a grimace and tries to cover himself up. “I-“

“I really don’t want to know.” Dr. Daisy cuts. “You have a habit to attract injury, which is both a blessing and a curse for me.”

“Tell me about it.” Chan mumbles, and Big wants to fulminate him with his eyes, but if he telepathically kills Chan right there and then, he won’t have anyone to kiss.

So, he rolls his eyes and lets Dr. Daisy finish. “Anyway, consider this my last warning: you either move into, and stay under Kun Kim or Kun Tankhun’s wing; or I’ll ask Kun Korn to kick you out himself.” Dr. Daisy puts her hand in her pocket. “We can’t afford to let you die, Big.”

“I agree. You are the best body guard we have.” That’s Chan who has suddenly lost all his finesse, and clumsily jumps into the conversation. “I’ll make sure he recovers properly, depending on his condition I myself will report the results to Kun Kinn and Kun Korn.”

Dr. Daisy sighs but she again, doesn’t disagree. “Big, I am not kidding, one more of this.” She points at his stomach. “And there will be no more Big to speak of. No more. Got it?”

Chan clutches his hand with such strength, he almost breaks Big’s pinky.

“I understand.”

Dr. Daisy nods to both Big and Chan before turning to leave. “Ten minutes.” She says before closing the door behind her.

She knows.

Fuck.

Well, not that Big really cares now that he has Chan all by and to himself again.

The IV drip connected to his hand hurts a little when he removes his hand from Chan’s hold and raises his arms to reach for Chan, who takes two seconds too long to respond.

He leans down a little to let Big place his arms around his shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You scared the living fuck out of me, bastard.” Chan whispers his voice dripping with hurt. He comes a little lower, enough to rest his forehead against Big’s. “Never do that shit again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I've got that.” Big’s eyes are softly closing and he rubs his nose against Chan’s straight, sculpture-like. “I’m not the biggest fan of the whole being awake but sleep, thing.”

Chan pulls away a little but Big pulls him closer again. “What do you mean?” Chan uses his hand to keep some sort of leverage for their position, but the other comes to cup Big’s cheek.

“Just before waking up, I could hear you. I-I could feel you.” Big can’t wait anymore, so he starts pecking Chan’s face. First his nose. “You were holding my hand, you brave little shit, and I felt it.”

He kisses Chan’s palm. “So, I wasn’t dreaming, you moved.” Chan whispers as his thumb traces Big’s lips.

Big kisses the thumb too. “I wanted to scream. I couldn’t move. I had to let you know I was okay, that I was there.” Big pulls away a little and completely rests his head on Chan’s hand. “I was begging you to help me. And you did.”

He maintains eye contact with Chan. Those big, beautiful eyes. Big is going to write research papers, novels, poems about them

“You brought me back, Chan.”

Chan swallows his shaky breath.

“Kiss me.”

Chan does.

*

Chan is 32 when the second family and the Italians come to meet at the house. All of them. He is to stand behind Kun Korn and stay alert for any suspicious movement that may arise during the meeting.

He’s done this before –a myriad of times, actually – but he still thinks it’s unwise to have so many dangerous and valuable men gathered around the same table. Something is bound to go south. And Chan could bet his left testicle it will be Vegas. Still so young, and yet so eager to eat the world raw with bloody gums.

“Pete, you will stay the furthest in the back, I want you to watch and learn mostly. Do not shoot first.” Pete, two years into the job and a quick learner, seems a bit too on edge. “Pol, Arm, you know what to do if anyone simply breathes at Kun Tankhun wrong.” Both of them nod.

Ken and Big await orders.

“Listen to me closely.” The couple take a step towards their mentor, hands clasped in front of them. Atta’ boys. “Kinn and Kim are the most valuable assets of this family, if you so much as see a resemblance of physical threat against them, you shoot. Got it?”

“Yes, chief.” They both reply.

Big is sporting a frown that only serves to make him look like a hunter ready for the chase of his life. Chan calms himself down, this stupid infantile crush has gone for way too long and gotten the worst of him.

“You have mine and Kun Korn’s full permission to bear any short range fire arms necessary. Shoot first, ask later.”

The guys look at each other, the pride and joy of the bodyguards of the Theerapanyakul family. They are calculating, perfectionist, efficient and rational. They are also viciously cruel if Chan tells them to be. They are perfect killing machines. But Chan, irrevocably, has a favorite. Big’s wit is beyond comparison, he is not as impulsive as Ken and the way he can open people like a surgeon and analyze everything about them, pick and choose each movement; is nothing short bur terrifying. Big is a menace.

Chan is 32 and so stupidly, childishly in love it makes his teeth grit at night.

*

Just like breathing. Just like dancing. Just like swimming in calm waters under the August sky, Chan could kiss Big for hours.

He has done that already, actually. He loves nothing more to have that man stripped bare in front of him. Take his time making Big moan, writhe on top of his bed, holding back his laughter when Chan kisses his nipple, because it tickles. To have Big smile when Chan bites his way down his thighs, when he calls Big a good boy, his pretty boy, his beautiful prince, yes my love, yes my beauty, harder my dearest slut?

Now, Big’s lips don’t seem to match up their normal pace, and that’s alright, that is more than fine. Chan can do slow, he can drag his tongue across Big’s mouth, he can take his time inside and let Big suck his tongue as if he had been starving, and as slowly as he needs to. Big comes out for air and Chan kisses down his neck, back up to his cheek and dives right in again.

Big moans softly when Chan’s tongue invites itself in again.

Chan can wait for Big. He has waited for Big.

There is no rush,

Until there’s a knock at the door.

They part swiftly, although reluctantly. Chan tries to help Big lay down again, he was almost completely sitting down during their make out and he didn’t even complain. Chan’s brave boy. However, now he is grimacing as he is lowered down again. He’s put too much strain in his abdomen.

“Come in.” Big says after a little cough.

The nurse bows and the pair return the greeting. Big seems in better condition already, which makes a punch of light bloom in his chest. Happiness. It is pure happiness. But, Chan is still worried Big overdid himself just now.

The nurse leaves all her materials at the bedside table and sits by the bed, mimicking Chan’s stance at the other side of Big’s torso. She gently asks if she can pull the sheets off, and lowers the fabric until it shows Big’s bandages again. Nothing else.

Chan needs a second.

The bandages have become bloodier in the span of ten minutes. Guilt invades him like a swarm of wasps, stinging him all down his spine in a shudder. Big doesn’t seem in much pain, as he lets the nurse rip the bandages very slowly.

“Well, it’s all old blood, son.” She sounds so soothing, like a congee when you have a fever. “I know it looks scary, but you’ll be fine, look.”

Big does.

Chan turns his gaze away.

He is not squeamish in the slightest. Chan has killed too many people to count, has seen blood and bone and has not even blinked an eye. Has been there during torture and extortion and everything under the sun.

But, they weren’t Big.

“Such pretty stiches. You’ll be up in a jiffy!” She declares, as she wipes the wounds. “Three? Oh dearest me, you must have been in a lot of pain.”

Chan turns to look at Big who reluctantly nods just once. “It was manageable.” He tries to smile, but the discomfort is clear in his expression.

The nurse, curated by the years and experience doesn’t even have to look to know. “We’ll be done soon, son.” And with that she pats the wounds dry and starts to grab clean bandages.

Chan helps her unravel them, and then puts his hand under Big, to help her wrap them around his torso.

“You know sonny,” she continues. “I’ve been in this house for over two decades now, and I’ve seen all sorts of things. But never someone surviving three bullets to the gut.” She points at the ceiling. “Someone must not want you up there too soon.”

Chan can’t help it. He is reserved, privacy and secrecy at its finest. But he hasn’t slept in what feels like weeks and Big is right there, breathing, awake and smiling. “As so does someone down here.”

Big turns to look at him and Chan could just about do anything. Big just has to give him a look and it is like spinaches to his Popeye: he feels invincible. Maybe that’s what was going on behind Big’s heroic act. Or maybe Big is too good of a person to have any motivation other than to save everyone.

The nurse smiles as she finishes her work. “Well, that is also always good.” She packs up quickly, smoothing the sheets back up Big’s body and even tucks him in. “Love is all we have.”

And with that she bows, but before she leaves she points at the remote sitting at the bedside table just behind Chan. “If you need anything at all, press the round blue button in the center.”

After that, they are alone again.

Big reaches out with the IV attached arm, and Chan takes his hand without hesitation. He gestures with his head towards the sheets, and smugly says. “She tucked me in.”

Chan chuckles, his free hand coming to pat his hair.

“Wanna join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

*

Big is 27 when Porsche joins their lines.

Fucking Porsche.

Kinn’s charity work and now personal body guard. He hasn’t even graduated college for fucks sake, and he walks the walk like he owns the place. Big wants nothing more than to squish that peanut brain of his between his fingers.

Porsche thinks this is a fucking game, that he gets to wear cool clothes, a free gym subscription, free housing, and gets to shoot cool guns.

Big has lost people. For fuck’s sake he almost lost his own fucking arm.

And he is expected to teach him?

“I’m not like you, Chan.” He says as he exhales the smoke from his cigarette. “I can’t be patient, especially not to a pedantic asshole like him.”

Chan rips the cigarette from his mouth and rolls his eyes at Big’s whine “come on, really?”. He steps on the bud and closes his eyes at the night sky. Big swore to Chan that he would quit smoking last year, and well, he failed. So, this year Chan is helping him by only letting him have one drag at a time.

And it’s working. Big doesn’t feel like smoking if it means it’ll get wasted. How does Chan manage to find him though? Every time he is out for a smoke, he has to check three times to confirm Chan isn’t around. However, he always seems to be.

Lately, he has been leaning into Chan’s attention. It is indulging and Ken has been a big enabler too. Maybe the little shit is ratting him out to Chan. But Big can’t find it in him to care. Chan is just so responsible, and down to earth, and solid and secure and confident, and it makes Big feel less alone.

Even if there are dozens of people in the house, only in Chan’s eyes he feels seen.

“He’ll find out soon enough what the fuck he has walked himself into.”

Big has long since forgotten what the sea smells like, but if he tilts his head back a little like this, and inhales softly like that, just behind Chan’s back. There’s a resemblance to what being underwater feels like: as if time has stopped.

“Let him enjoy while he can.” Chan turns, back against the railing.

Big is 27 when he first jerks off to that image a few hours later: imagining sucking Chan off in that balcony, right outside the bodyguard’s pool, while he calls him mine.

*

Chan catches Big up all that’s happened while the night settles between them.

Tawan, Vegas, Ken. Fucking Ken.

Big tunes out after that and Chan quiets down, understanding the betrayal in Big’s expression. He had shared things with that guy. He was the first one to know about his crush on Kinn, the first to come console him during his heartbreak, and then again the first to know about Chan.

“Dude, I knew it. I could tell since I got here.” The bastard had said. “I have a talent to know people’s deepest secrets.”

Dipshit.

Ken had been his roommate, he had worn his boxers more than once mistakenly and have laughed about the size of his dick, they had had karaoke nights, and Ken had taught him English, and he wanted to be a doctor, and they almost got matching tattoos, and-

No.

No time to reminisce. Big had almost died for the fucker and his head had been served on a silver platter. Big got to live. Big got to wake up and face the man he loved, and carry on his duties as a guard. They both got what they deserved.

“Hey.” Chan successfully snaps Big out of it. “You good?”

“Peachy.”

“I’m sorry.” Chan says and also faces the chandelier softly tingling in above them.

“Don’t be.” Big simply said, keeping his emotions at bay was always hard around Chan. He had never learned to. “What else?”

“Pete has gone on a vacation.”

Big turns to Chan which hurts like hell, so he returns to lay on his back.

“Pete?” Chan shrugs. “On vacation?” Chan shrugs again.

“Apparently so, Kinn even checked with his grandma, and he seems to be taking some time off.”

Big really doesn’t want to think about it too much, knows it won’t do much of a difference since is basically stuck inside this suite for months until he fully recovers. However, there is something that just doesn’t feel right about Pete going on holiday right after everything blew over.

“So, wait,” Big starts, and Chan blinks his tiredness away. “Pete went on a suicide mission into the Minor Family’s Manor. Got the information, sent it to Arm, and yet nobody has seen him since he got in?”

Chan yawns turning to face Big. “Yup.”

“Chan, nobody has seen Pete after going to the minor family.” Big urges.

Because Chan is supposed to know this stuff, everything that happens regarding the bodyguards is his jurisdiction. That’s his job he is been doing for a decade.

However, he can tell Chan has settled for the night, his body already lax. “He will be fine, he is the Nation’s Boxing Champion. Not to mention a killing machine. He has dealt with the likes of the Minor family’s goons before.”

Big pretends that Chan’s words calm him down, but what really does it for his sleep to kick in (which is stupid because he has spent an entire day sleeping) is Chan’s arms wrapping around him. Ah yeah, the first stage of the Chan-Blanket. Big tries to snuggle both away and closer, until he is comfortable with his hands on top of Chan’s arm.

“Rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Chan tries to kiss Big’s temple with his eyes closed and, obviously, misses. “Good night, Big.”

Big has lost his frown, and he is one foot into dreamland when he replies with. “Night, Channie.”

Which only proves that Chan is already beyond this world, since the last time Big called him Channie, he had been pushed against a wall and made to cum untouched.

*

“Fucking told you so.”

Chan rolls his eyes, he really doesn’t have the time for this. The engine rumbles as he speeds to keep up with the van where everyone is getting ready. There’s rustling from the other end of the line, but Big doesn’t say anything else. And any other day, Chan would play along and tease him, or ask him how he is doing, or be a good…boyfriend? Friend? Fuckbuddy? Whatever.

But today, he’s just had it.

“Yeah, you are the smartest and I’m a big dumbass. Listen I have to hang up, since I have shit to take care of.”

Which he regrets immediately. However, everyone is already jumping from their respective cars, Arm patiently waiting for his instructions, so Chan makes a mental note to make it up to Big later. After slapping himself in shape, Chan disconnects the Bluetooth mic of his helmet, takes it off and walks to his men.

“I want Arm up in the second floor. Sniper. Pol, you cover him.” The guys nod and Arm takes the sniper rifle out of its case. “Ice, Jet, your teams will cover the wings, I don’t want anybody in, and you only let our people out.” They also nod and leave.

They all know what comes next, Big, Ken and Pete with me, but neither are with them now and Porsche is –has to be- somewhere with Kinn. So it’s Chan against whatever is in the front lines of this mess.

Chan let’s himself think of Big as he loads his gun.

He has a minute before Arm and Pol get in position.

Their headsets aren’t on yet.

“Fuck it.”

Chan mutters and grabs his phone. A reward after five years of top-notch work done with all the guard’s numbers as he was their chief now. He had treasured that phone with his life. 

“Babe, I’m sorry I snapped.” He starts his voice note. “I will be back before you know it. Wait for me, my brave, smart boy.”

He turns off his phone.

The headsets beep alive in his ears.

It is fucking show time.

*

Chan is 34 when he first has Big in his bed.

Another perk of being loyal to the Theerapanyakuls for more than a decade and a half: having a solo room. No fancy stuff or walk in closet, but he gets his own wardrobe and own bathroom and that is more than a lot of people his age and rank have.

He keeps his furniture simple, his colors neutral: black and white. So Big’s silver earrings glimmer in his bed like stars in a bedroom of dullness. Big is made of diamonds and they are all laid out for Chan to admire.

Lounging on top of Chan’s navy blue bed sheets, Big is still giggling after all the kissing. As always, by the pool. Chan can’t remember what they were talking about, something relating to sailing, to going for a small trip together. Big knows how to sail, and Chan could go to the end of the world with him.

It is such a marvelous sight: Big with a big grin on his face, with his cat eyes blown with lust, legs opening wide for him. Chan thinks he is dreaming or that he is seeing things, that he has gone absolutely off the rails.

But then Big is pulling him in, wrapping both legs and arms around him, moving his hips to grind against Chan’s dick.

Chan moans into their kiss. Big chuckles and lays down flat again, lips sore but always smiling.

“Make me yours".

*

“Chan!”

Big sits up, with less struggle now. After a couple of weeks, he has have major improvements. Like, impressively so. The nurse has taken all the credit since it’s her spicy mango recipe which has healed his stomach. Unlikely but Big eats it like it is divine nectar. And well, since he started eating more fruit, Big has even been able to walk around the room a bit, so yeah, magical mango for the win.

Chan had also rewarded him nicely for being so strong and Big had let him pamper him. Long baths, never ending kisses and praises.

Now, Chan is opening the suite door, bandages around his arms and legs done on site before being sent back to the house. Miraculously without limping, Chan gets closer. His eyebrow has also been patched up and his lip is still bloody from biting his tongue in a fight, but he is smiling.

Big is opening his arms to Chan before he even registers the movement.

Chan falls on him.

A thorn of pain stabs Big in the gut but it’s not that bad, it fades quickly enough as the anxiety that has been building for hours slowly dissipates from his body, turning lax. Like a thin layer of filth has been washed away.

Chan smells like dirt, smoke, blood and of cologne. Always that citrus aftertaste. Big buries his nose into his hair and inhales. There is nothing so familiar in a world as that lemon and sandalwood scent. Big want’s to wrap himself around that smell like a blanket.

“I’m sorry.” Chan muffles against Big’s chest.

“Shut up.” Big chastises him, he is holding him so tight he is afraid he’ll rip Chan by the seams like a teddy bear. “You never have to apologize to me.”

Chan chuckles, its vibrations sending Big’s heart into a frenzy of adoration. “I love you.”

Big freezes.

Tears prickle behind his eyelids as he blinks to meet Chan’s eyes.

He had imagined champagne and a starry sky, the sea as their back purring softly, sand between their toes. He had imagined Chan resting his head on his lap, happy and tipsy and looking at him with those very same eyes. A little paradise. Big would have said it first, as he has always been the one to take the first step.

And then they’d go back to the resort and fuck like animals all night.

Instead he got a hospital bed, with a ridiculously big chandelier, three bullet wounds in his stomach. And a bloody Chan, smiling victoriously, face filled with joy as he pulls away from their embrace and take Big whole. His tone sincere, his heart open in front of him.

Frankly? Big wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I love you too, idiot.” Big moves until he is basically sitting on Chan’s lap at the edge of the bed. “Fucking idiot. And you gave me grief for worrying you.” He buries his nose in Chan’s broad shoulder.

Chan’s ridiculously enormous hands trace Big’s spine. “I love you.”

“And of course you turned off your fucking phone. You didn’t even think to call me afterwards? It has been a whole fucking day! Twenty-six hours, you idiot. You selfish, imbecile. You prick. You asshole.”

Chan kisses his temple. “I love you.”

And Big starts sobbing into the crook of Chan’s neck.

*

Big is 27 when he wakes up in Chan’s bed for the first time.

He knows he’ll be back tonight, and the next. After what that man did to his body last night, Big has a hard time believing he’ll get tired of it soon. So he stretches as long as he is, his arm bumping into Chan’s chest which Big has apparently used as pillow for the night.

With a small exhale, Chan looks down but, given their angle, chooses to sit back against the head of the bed.

“Morning.” He greets.

Big nods and hums, before sitting in front of Chan. He feels no shame, no regret, just a placid peace all over his body, which he didn’t think he’ll get back after abandoning his hometown and the sea.

“Didn’t take you as a cuddler.” Chan states, his hand moves as if it was itching to reach out, but ultimately stays put on Chan’s lap.

Big takes it, holds it up and compares sizes. “You know what they say about big hands.” He comments. “I mean, you prove the saying right.”

That seems to amuse Chan enough to snort. He has such a lovely smile, Big thinks for the ninth time. All pearly white teeth, charming and soulful and genuine. Chan had smiled after their first kiss, had smiled when Big begged to come on his fingers, smiled when Big told him harder, faster, right there, don’t stop.

“And I didn’t take you as the smiling type.” Big says, interlocking their fingers.

Chan sighs. “I guess we just have a lot to learn about one another.”

“Is that a challenge?” Big asks raising his eyebrows.

By the way Chan’s gaze shifts, Big knows he won’t have to way until the evening to have Chan’s dick in him again.

“Are you up for it?”

Big places Chan’s hand around his own neck.

“Do your worst.”

*

A week later and Big has managed to heal enough to further his walks around the room and sit by himself. He doesn’t need help to go to the bathroom anymore, but he does put his arms in front of him for Chan to help him remove his shirt.

Which Chan does before stepping between those arms and feel them wrapping around his waist.

Chan can’t be bothered to be romantic. Not tonight. Don’t get him wrong, he appreciates art in all its forms, Big’s body being his favorite. But tonight, Big is looking like a whole feast prepared just for him.

From the way he kissed him good morning, with an urgency Chan had only seen in him after hours of having him at his mercy and needing to come. To the way he had rutted on Chan’s leg, panting into his mouth. Begging.

Now, Chan knows he can’t just rush into things given both their states: Big clearly has a long way to a full recovery, and Chan still has wounds (superficial) to tend to. So, he carefully maneuvers Big to slowly sit on the edge of the bathtub while Chan starts drawing it.

The bastard however, has decided he’ll be a leech today, because he refuses to fully detach himself from Chan, quickly crumpling the hem of Chan’s shirt to bite into his abs. Which makes Chan laugh and turn to Big from where he has been checking the temperature of the water.

As he stands in front of him, Chan cups Big’s face and caresses it, his thumbs tracing those high cheekbones, down to his lips, which trap the fingers. And suck on them. The absolute fucker.

“You are a demon.” Chan states with a playful grin.

“I’m aware.” Big slurs as he tries to talk with the two digits in his mouth.

Chan really can’t be asked to be patient. He makes quick work of his shirt, while Big pulls his boxers down, and fucking licks his lips before looking back up.

A silent question.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“It’s a simple yes or no question.”

Big singsongs, looks at the faucet and Chan turns it off without looking, his eyes fixated on the sight in front (below) him.

“When have I ever said no to you, dear?”

With a cheshire smile Big starts pumping Chan into full hardness, which takes an almost humiliatingly short time; before licking his dick like a fucking popsicle. And Chan can’t only grunt and let Big have his fun. Let him savor and suck and lick and tease him until he is moaning between mouthfuls.

Chan pulls his hair, just the way Big likes it, by the base of his neck, and guides him until Big has to fight his gag reflex, which apparently he loves because he is rolling his eyes back and breathing heavily through his nose. Chan’s abdomen muscles tense, and he has to remember to slow down, to not fuck into the inviting warmth of Big’s mouth. When Big pulls out for air, saliva and precome mixing on his chin, Big licks his lips, always with that smirk on his face.

And their age difference is noticeable at plain sight, Chan has a good seven years on Big, but Chan can fight his erectile dysfunction off for a few more decades. Because he can’t afford coming now, at the mere sight of Big enjoying himself, and being so turned on the front of his boxers are tight around his own erection.

“The water is getting cold.” Chan says with a husky voice of someone who was twenty seconds away from orgasming.

He kneels, which puts a strain in his wounds, but all pain is lost at the sight of being between Big’s legs. Chan drags his boxers down Big’s thighs, kissing each inch of skin revealed and down, and down some more. Chan nudges Big’s legs open very carefully with his nose and Big complies with his lower lip, red and swollen from the kissing, trapped by his own teeth.

Chan bites Big’s inner thigh. The sound he gets as a response bounces around the bathroom walls and goes straight to Chan’s dick. Big keeps moaning, almost bashfully now, as Chan’s mouth gets braver.

Big leans backwards a little bit, and Chan understands what he is suggesting, but there’s so much he can do in this angle. So he manages a long lick between Big’s scrotum and hole before kissing Big’s hard dick. Then Chan is up on his feet, eyes never leaving Big’s as they both enter the bathtub, water splashing everywhere.

And now is when Chan gets all the patience back. As his fingers enter Big, the sound of the sloshing water mixing with Big’s moans, his back arched against Chan’s chest. Chan calms his breathing down, steadies his heart and fingers as he whispers into Big’s ear.

“You are doing so well, my good boy.” Big’s reactions to praise never cease to arouse Chan. “All arched up and good for me, it doesn’t hurt too bad, does it my dear?”

Big tries to talk, but Chan curls his fingers and Big shakes his head as his answer instead.

“No, no baby boy, you gotta talk to me.” Chan teases as his fingers keep prodding inside. “Use your words for me, love.”

“It’s good.” Big gasps out as Chan adds a third finger. “More.”

Chan stops his trail of kisses across Big’s shoulder at the last demand. “More? What do you mean by that, my sweet, brave, handsome, good boy?” Each word gets punctuated by a thrust of Chan’s fingers.

The last one seems to hit the jackpot, as Big chokes on his own moan.

“Fuck me.” Big says as he starts moving back against his fingers, chasing that high again. Water slaps Chan’s abdomen softly. “Please.”

Chan grunts against Big’s shoulder blades, and bites there. He leaves a mark right there, then up the back of Big’s neck another hickey. His fingers stall inside Big who impatiently moves to get the momentum back.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Chan says against the back of Big’s neck.

“Please.” Big repeats, desperate. “I need it. So bad, please. Chan, babe, darling, please.”

And there’s nothing Chan can do really.

Removing his fingers, Big moans at the action but soon is whining at the loss. Chan slowly turns him around, always watching out for those stiches, which are healed almost entirely. Big is a fucking menace.

“My strong boy, you did so well. I am so proud of you.” Chan praises as soon as Big is flush against him.

Chan moves his hips and they both groan obscenely when their dicks touch. Big’s fingernails dig into Chan’s shoulder and there’s nothing he likes more: the marks, the witnesses and testimonies of Big enjoying sex with Chan.

“You’ll be good and tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy fuck give it to me, please.” Big almost screams.

Big is a bit far gone, but Chan kisses it all away, Big has been wanting this for weeks now, and Chan would be a filthy liar to deny he hasn’t thought about having Big like this for days as well. In the bathtub, on that damn Queen sized bed, on the balcony, on the floor. Chan would have Big anywhere he’d let him.

So, after checking that Big is indeed stretched wide enough, Chan aligns Big and helps him sink into his dick which makes Big gasp and pant into their kiss. Big tilts his head back as he make his way down, a smile growing in his face. Chan kisses down his throat and bites his way to his chest.

Once Chan bottoms out, he pulls Big closer, his other hand cupping Big’s face, capturing his moan in a kiss.

“What a good boy. My good little slut. Taking me so good.”

The bathtub is already half empty when they start to move.

*

All pent up tension, anxiety, anger, and adrenaline leaves their bodies after that bath.

They did it so slowly, so intimately, moving together like two slithering beings created to move in synchrony. They stood in that water until the bathroom was soaked, Big’s tears mixed with the water and begging for Chan to not let him go. And he didn’t.

Chan carried Big while still being inside of him, a task he didn’t believe possible until Big’s dripping body was on the bedsheets, writhing because of the new angle. “Come here, please my love.” And Chan hadn’t even hesitate.

He said “Deeper. Deeper, Daddy please I’ve been good.” And Chan complied.

He said “Right there. Fuck, Chan, right there don’t stop. G-gonna come.”

And Chan replied “Me too, my handsome boy, my good boy so perfect for me.”

Three rounds later, and Big was peacefully asleep between Chan’s arms, his wounds didn’t pulsate for attention, the soreness in his hips was nothing but a light buzz, and his heart was so very full.

Now Big is helping Chan pack his bag again. After basically moving temporarily to that suite until Big was fully recovered, they had to go back to their lives, to their rooms. Both of which will now only have only one occupant.

“You could come live with me.” Chan said as he zipped the duffle bag. “Kun Korn is satisfied with our work, we could present the idea to him.”

Big blinks before looking away.

“That’s-“

“Only if you want to.” Chan reassures him as he walks closer, hands already looking for Big’s. God they are gigantic.

Of course he wants to. Being able to wake up to Chan is the second best thing he has ever felt in his life. The first one is clear enough. Well, just for the sake of clarity, it's being fucked by Chan. So yeah, living together will take care of these two occurrences happening daily. Or almost daily.

Big can’t think of anything better, or anything to say, or anything really. He just says there, gaping, holding Chan's hands, hating himself for his own silence.

So, he acts instead. When words don’t cut it, take action. When you don’t like what you hear shoot them. Or in this case: when you like what you hear so much you feel like dying, kiss them.

Chan returns the kiss immediately and smiles. “Okay, I’ll make the arrangements.”

*

Big is 29 when he gets his first holiday. A whole week off from work to do what he wants. More or less, there are limits he is not allowed to cross, but the family trusts him enough to not embarrass them. Or put himself in danger.

And for once, Big is willing to comply on the last part. Swearing he won’t put himself at any risk, he convinced Kun Korn and Kun Kinn to let Chan come with him, as some sort of back up. Porsche was the one to help him out in his endeavor. Well, he did owe Big one after the whole taking three bullets to the gut for him.

Porsche isn’t so bad, Big decides.

“Have fun, Big.” Porsche says at Kinn’s door. Kinn is already inside, the door closing automatically.

Big is now their official bodyguard, although yes Porsche is still allowed to handle guns and do bodyguard duties. Big kind of misses him around the gym though.

“Chan is a loyal partner. Treat him right.” Porsche winks before disappearing behind the door.

Yup, Big still hates Porsche.

But now, Big is on the family’s smallest yacht. An almost abandoned vessel they bought for Tankhun when he was six. They barely pay any attention to it anymore, and it can fit only four people, which by Theerapanyakul standards, isn’t even worth being given to the minor family.

So Big gets it instead. For a whole week. Alone at sea. With Chan.

And if he tilts his head like this, lets the breeze mess with his hair so Chan has to tuck it behind his ear. And if he holds Chan’s hands like that, and lets Chan’s tongue play with his own as they kiss, he can almost feel like he is flying.