The first time is after hazing. There’s a lick of fiery anger still stroking his temper and icy shame claws at him and he’s worried he pushed it too far. So, when he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder and is whirled around until the edge of the stage digs uncomfortably into the small of his back, Arthit is ready for a fight.
“What are you do— oomph!”
Their teeth clash hard and Arthit feels derailed as his neck jerks and a sharp twinge of pain runs from shoulder to elbow. But his mind moves on quickly from the pain, to marvel at the frantic pulsing of a tongue thick against his, the taste of stale coffee invading his mouth.
It’s not unpleasant. In fact, the neurons fire brightly in his brain and he frantically kisses back, mouth moving over soft lips, salivating over the delicious press of skin or skin.
He pushes back harder, fingers touching a smooth shirt then catching on the raised buttons, playing with them. Weakened by the intensity of the kiss, he lifts his head, dragging his mouth away even though his brain protests, and asks, aggression in his voice, “What is the point of this?”
Hands grip him around his waist - clawing possessively, and a firm chest keeps him pressed in place. “Pleasure. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Arthit would. Arthit does! Desperately! He inclines his head and gives access to the long length of his neck and is rewarded with several soft wet kisses against his sensitive skin. Then he firmly grips the back of a graceful neck and tugs until their mouths are hovering over one another.
“This doesn’t mean I like you.”
“Right — me neither!”
Then tongues tangle and the coffee taste is back and Arthit floats away.
It’s not a long kiss, but it’s a good one and Arthit would quite like to keep kissing his frustrations away.
So, when his partner pulls back and turns to leave, Arthit tries to mask the protesting whine in his throat.
Of course, it’s impossible and his mystery kisser laughs throatily and says, voice low and dangerous, “Next time.. you can have more then.”
He’s gone in a flash and Arthit expects to feel bereft - but he doesn’t. Instead there’s a curl of soft satisfaction in his stomach and a warmth where his shame and anger had been.
The second time, though still a surprise, he’s kind of anticipating it.
He lingers in the cheer hall when the Hazers all go to tidy up. Waits for everyone else to leave then stays back, possibilities hovering around him, desire already pooling in his stomach.<\p>
The moment a large hand grips his flesh and turns him, there’s only a tiny moment of hesitation before he reaches out and grips a warm neck in return, reeling the firm body closer.
“Thought I wore you out already, or do I need to give you more push ups to do?” He says cheekily, raising an eyebrow.
“No talking. If you talk then we won’t be kissing. I’m already sick of your voice today!”
Arthit sees the determination in the fiery eyes and he nods slightly and leans in, not wanting to miss out on his chance for more time with that talented mouth - even if he shouldn’t want this.
This kiss is different. They’ve already mapped each other’s mouths, so this time it’s deeper, harder, faster.
Tongues tangle, hands grip at clothes and skin and there’s a frantic pace that Arthit struggles to keep up with.
He wants to say something, ask for something softer, but then teeth bite down on his lower lip and he opens his mouth on a low grunt and he forgets.
It ends too soon, three final pecks to his mouth and a wry smile, “You work us too hard.”
“If I didn’t—“ he stops, his voice doesn’t sound like his own.
“I suppose there are some rewards - my thighs have never been so firm.”
The whirlwind kisser departs, leaving Arthit with lewd thoughts of thick thighs wrapped around his waist, or his head trapped between them, and he has to hit the gym’s showers to try and cool himself off!
“Let’s go get a drink, we deserve it after that!” Knott says and Arthit wants to say no. He wants to stay here, in the cheering hall where he might end up sharing an enjoyable ten minutes trading passionate kisses to brighten his mood.
But he doesn’t and he ends up in the bar nearest school, downing shots with the whole gang. He knows he shouldn’t, that he should keep a clear head ready for the next day, but the alcohol slides down his throat with ease and he doesn’t want to stop drinking.
He especially doesn’t want to stop when a large group of junior’s join them in the bar, seated around a central table, bottles of alcohol to share between them.
Another shot slides down his throat and Arthit winces at the sour taste and immediate rush of blood to his head.
“Oh look, it’s your favourite junior, Ai’Thit!”
“Yeah, what you going to do, give him sit-stands to complete just cos he came drinking in the same bar as us?”
“Yell at him?”
“Tell him you’re going to make him your wife?”
“ENOUGH!” Arthit roars and Kongpob jumps at the sound and turns tail and returns to his friends. Meanwhile, Arthit sucks down another shot, shaking his head angrily.
“You’re drunk. Come on - home.”
He struggles to put one foot in front of the other, finds it hard to walk in a straight line, but a warm hand stays at the small of his back the whole time, guiding him.
Then he’s back at his room and cold hands are tucking him under his smooth cotton, fleetingly stroking his forehead before warm lips take their place.
And he does.
His legs hurt. His arms hurt. His whole body is on fire!
One more - one more - one more. He pushes one foot in front of the other, thudding hard on the track, pain jarring through his legs and into his hips.
And then he’s made it, collapsing into Knott’s arms, that annoying junior crowding him and asking what he can do to help.
“Go away!” They all say, Arthit’s voice a little weaker than he’d like, before they drag him from the pitch and to Knott’s car and then home - blessedly home.
The next morning he wakes to the sound of Prem moaning and rustling through the pages of a Manga.
“Food? Drink?” Arthit croaks out, coughing to get rid of his morning voice.
“I’ll pay you back, come on?”
”Fine, but you can buy mine too and<\i> you’re paying for the good stuff, so I may be a while!”<\p>
Once he’s alone, he assesses his injuries again. He’s still in agony, the pain radiating outwards through his body until his feet are throbbing like a drum beat. He groans.
“Am I interrupting something?” The voice is cheeky and sure of itself. Arthit groans again - not through pain this time. He scowls, but there’s a burst of laughter and he supposed he must look ridiculous with his soft hair falling in his face, trying to pretend that he doesn’t want his visitor here.
“Come here and kiss me better?” He suggests and raises an eyebrow, trying to stay stern.
A sweet laugh and then a cold hand cups his foot and an unexpected kiss is pressed against his ankle. It tickles and he giggles and the mouth is swiftly dragged away.
“I rather meant here,” he says, pointing to his lips, “But... Don’t stop. Please.” He hates to beg, but it’s distracting him from his pain because it feels so good to be pampered.
More kisses, light over the top of his foot and then up his calf until they reach his knee where they press lightly around in a circle and make him laugh again.
“You’re very ticklish, aren’t you?”
“Are you going to keep talking or use that mouth for something good?”
“My, my, feisty aren’t you? After yesterday, I thought I’d find you writhing in agony. Perhaps you don’t deserve any of my attention? If you’re already feeling better?”
Arthit’s blood cools at the thought and he lifts his head and locks their eyes together, trying to muster something fierce or disinterested, “Whatever.” He says, but he knows he doesn’t mean it.
And it must be quite clear, because fingers run from his knee and over the soft skin of his inner thigh, over the edge of his boxers and then higher, up to the crease where his thigh meets his groin.
Then they stop and Arthit sucks in a deep breath and watches as they twitch lightly there.
He nods, unable to say the words and then watches their path as they trail lightly over the front of his underwear, tracing the curve of his half-hard cock and up to the waistband. Then they trail over the line of hair that leads into his boxers and pause again.
The bed dips with the weight of a firm body and then it’s pressing over him, chest to chest, hand caught between them as it lowers itself down to hold him loosely.
Warm breath ghosts over his mouth and Arthit twitches up and into the kiss.
He opens his mouth first, letting the sinuous tongue inside as the hand starts to move, stroking him firmly, grip sure and strong.
Barely a minute passes - kisses hot and wet, hand picking up the perfect rhythm, Arthit clutching at a soft waist, hand sliding under a teeshirt to find naked skin.
“Yes!” He says, panting as he drags his mouth away and fixes his eyes on the space between their bodies where he can feel the hand working back and forth, making his heart stutter.
The hand stops and Arthit moans loudly, “No! You said...”
He stills, and then fingertips creep under the waistband of his shorts and down until they are clutching his flesh, hot and hard.
And that’s enough. Arthit thrusts upwards as he comes, warm liquid flooding his pants and covering the hand that is holding him.
“I’m sorry.” He says, frantic and pink with shame as he lifts as arm to hide in the crook of his elbow.
“Don’t. Don’t hide. I want to see you. That was amazing!”
A kiss to the skin of his lower arm, working it’s way up to his elbow, then a sticky hand pulling at it and tugging it away from his face.
“Hey! You’re getting me messy.”
“If you don’t like the feel of your own come, then you probably need to tell me to stop now.”
Arthit lifts his head, “What?”
“I meant.. if you want to go any further of course.”
He finds himself nodding before the sentence is even finished, but then feels like an idiot so turns it into a fierce glare and shoves at a shoulder.
“Whatever.” He says as he watches the slide of a sticky hand over his shirt, smearing it with damp come.
“So, you don’t?” The voice is further away now, over by the door and that pisses Arthit off, the fact that he’s not expected to return the favour.
He flexes the muscles in his leg and winces as pain shoots through him.
The click of the door happens while he’s still cringing through the pain.
When Prem returns five minutes later, Arthit is shirtless, tee stuffed under his pillow, boxers still uncomfortably wet.
“What happened?” Prem asks, staring at his naked chest.
“Too hot. And the air con remote is.. I don’t know.”
Prem picks it up from by his feet and waves it at him, “I’m sure it wasn’t over here before?”
“Whatever.” But the echo of his earlier words makes him blush and Prem quickly shoots the remote at his air con unit, dropping the temperature a few degrees.
“Did you catch a cold in the rain? You look feverish?”
If only Prem knew!
Frustration floods Arthit as he watches the junior’s racing around the pitch trying to complete his tasks. He thought he had made this hard enough, but they’re completing the tasks so quickly that he’s worried they won’t have time to set up for the wrist tying ceremony which is due to happen immediately after they finish..
When Kongpob approaches him on the steps, he lets some of his anger out at him and then feels guilt bite at him straight after. Soon he will need to nurture a more gentle and supportive relationship with his junior and he wishes he could start it right now, but he can’t. He has to stay firm until they’ve all understood about working as a team and have earned their gears.
He manages it, fixed on the memory of staring at a tree for hours, until they all start thanking him, over and over. And that’s when he loses it, the tears creeping into his eyes as he welcomes Tew up to take the flag.
Escaping to the back of the bleachers is the only thing he can do, not wanting any of the younger students to see his pride in their achievements - he’ll say it with words and wrist strings soon.
The kiss to the back of his neck is a surprise and he whirls around to face off with the owner of those lips.
He’s intending to tell them off for coming here and finding him like this, but before he can speak there’s a firm smack of lips on his and he gets lost in the sensations of a warm mouth wandering over his own.
The hand in his hair is tugging and angling his head to deepen the kiss and the sounds are filthy and wet around them.
It feels like they’re in their own little bubble, one kiss following onto another, over and over again until it’s not clear who’s starting them afresh.
Arthit has a hand fisted in a shirt, another cupping a warm chin and there’s hands on him too, on his waist and in his hair still.
He slides his hand up and around to press the warm torso closer and there’s a moan against his lips, vibrating through him and making him shiver. The hand on his waist dips lower and cups his arse and pulls his growing hard-on against another firm bulge.
They rut against each other, harder and harder, Arthit’s stomach tingling in anticipation as his orgasm builds low in his belly.
Gasps and moans fill the air around them and for a moment Arthit feels cold terror in his throat that they might be caught, but no one comes and they keep rubbing, his own hands dropping to press them closer, holding firmly to the other body as his toes tighten in his shoes and he begins the long, slow dive into a powerful orgasm.
The moans shorten to quick, harsh grunts and then he feels the familiar warmth of come flooding his trousers. There’s a moment where they are both still and then Arthit slips a hand between them and tugs hard on the firmness of another cock until he feels it jerk to completion, it’s owner sucking hard on his neck to hide his groans.
Arthit has to rush to the cheer hall for a change of clothing that he keeps in his locker, before he dares to tie a string to anyone else’s wrist.<\p>
There’s nothing for a while, and then suddenly everything happens at once.
He’s alone in his room, away from the crowds of freshmen littering the beach, his head pounding from the heat of the sun and the alcohol he’s been sipping on all day - that his friends are still drinking. He knows he’ll have to do rounds later, but for now, he just needs the blessedly cool air con and the softness of his bed.
When the door clicks open, he lazily waves a hand, not bothering to open his eyes, “I know Bright.. I’ll get up soon and go patrol.”
“It’s not Bright,” a familiar voice says, tugging his eyes open with it’s intensity.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I thought you might..”
“Might what? Want another go just cos we’ve got a bed that we can use?”
The voice sounds embarrassed, “No. I didn’t mean.. don’t cheapen this.”
“This?” Arthit asks, pushing himself up so his back is against the headboard and he can look straight into the other guys eyes.
It’s a mistake of course. They’re blazing, hotter than the sun outside, warming him up immediately and making him wish he could lower the air con further.
“I..” he stills, aware that there are hurt feelings that need to be soothed. So he pats the bed beside him, then slumps back down, dropping his aching head back onto the pillow.
“Orgasms are good for headaches.” The voice says, matter of fact.
“Are they now? And, what, you’re going to give me another one?”
“Well..” a warm arm settles next to his, and even though he’s still a degree too hot, Arthit doesn’t pull his arm away. “I’ve got a headache too, you know. Too much sun, too much salt water..”
“Too much stolen booze?” Arthit finishes and there’s a throaty chuckle.
“That too, I suppose.”
“I’m due to do room inspections - I’m bound to catch all the freshmen who have beer in their rooms.” He raises an eyebrow and is rewarded with another sexy chuckle and a flash of a heated gaze that raises his temperature yet again.
“Good job we stole the whiskey then, isn’t it?”
Arthit rolls onto his side and strokes a finger over a chiselled jaw, “Think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
“I’m pretty much top of my class.” That laugh again.
“Not quite..” Arthit replies, raising an eyebrow.
“I could be.. if I didn’t spend so much time chasing after my fit seniors.”
“Seniors?” Arthit’s voice catches on the plural and for a second he hates how vulnerable he sounds.
“Right, fine. Not that it matters.”
“Of course.” A hand catches his fingers and threads them together, “Want to fuck?”
The invitation is casually offered and Arthit could easily say no if he wanted to.
But, despite the heat in the room and the sweat that’s starting to pool between his shoulder blades, he doesn’t want to say no. So he leans in and presses a kiss against a willing mouth, “Yes,” he whispers.
“Have you ever..?” The voice whispers back and he frowns and shakes his head.
“But I want to. I want to with you.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Yeah. I know how it all works, I did some research.” The eyes flash again, fierce and excited and Arthit’s heart does frantic somersaults in his chest.
“So that’s why you’re not topping your class!”
That laugh again and then a lazy smile, “No, but maybe I could be topping you soon?”
Arthit shudders and the bed shakes and then they’re kissing frantically, tugging at each other’s clothing, skin touching skin, tracing pathways of pleasure.
Lube appears from nowhere and little foil packets that Arthit knows are condoms and he tenses for a second, but then warm lips blow air against his ear, “We don’t have to. Let’s just see how far we both want to go?”
They do. Arthit opens his legs and steady fingers circle his hole, massaging lube into his secret crevice while a tongue licks lazily over the crown of his cock.
It’s easy and messy and thrilling to let someone into him, and as fingers press inside, intense desire makes him shudder hard and then the fingertips turn and find a ball of nerves that send him over the edge, his cock spurting into a surprised ‘O’ of lips.
There’s a bit of spluttering, but through it all, steady fingers stroke inside him and Arthit feels so powerfully pleasured that he almost orgasms a second time.
He grabs the hand that’s inside and tugs it out, wincing a little at the drag of fingers, and then pulls until they’re flush against each other, chest to chest. Once he can reach, he kisses and kisses until all his bitter come has been licked clean and there’s a pair of pink lips smiling at him in delight.
“You liked that?”
“Yes, but I’m so sensitive now, I could.. I think I could come again.”
“I’ve heard that can happen.” A hard cock rubs against his thigh and Arthit remembers he’s not the only one who deserves such intense pleasure. His fingers circle the shaft and he tugs lightly and then harder with the moans.
“Stop, stop, please, I’m going to..”
“Yes. I want you in me when you do.”
The surprise is clear, but Arthit stays firm, “Yes. I want you. Please, if you want me too?”
Frantic fingers tear at the condom wrapper and he gulps hard at the thought of the enormous thing in his hand pushing into him, but when they’re lined up and ready, he takes a deep breath and it all happens slowly and with great care.
And then he’s full, “So full,” he breathes into a kiss and an answering groan against his lips has him squeezing.
“Don’t.. do.. that.” Long breathes between words and hands on either side of his head, propping up the lean torso as a cock inches further inside, “I’ll come. I’m not even fully in - can you take more?”
“Yesss..” he sucks in a lungful of air and then relaxes as much as he can as the cock pushes further inside.
Then he feels so utterly complete, that whatever he thought before was just utter nonsense. Now he’s really full!
“Can I — can I move?”
Arthit leans up to kiss reddened lips, “Please, slowly.”
It’s so gentle and loving and careful and perfect that tears form at the corners of his eyes and are kissed away by an intensely hot mouth.
“You feel — incredible.” He admits and an answering grunt affirms that the feeling is mutual.
Adjusting to the feeling, Arthit flexes and there are heavy pants above him until they are sharing one breath, kisses hungry and hot when they remember. Otherwise, their mouths just touch lightly, wet and warm.
Arthit grips the small of a back and helps to pace the thrusts into him. His hands are slippery wet and he feels like his whole body is a flame growing white hot with every tiny movement.
He cants his hips and there’s a full body shudder and the cock inside him starts to pulse hard and hot.
“I can feel you!” He says in awe and lips descend on his again and they pant in unison as Arthit’s cock twitches too and a few spurts of sticky come pool between their bodies.
The cock inside him twitches harder and then there are several frantic thrusts and a heavy body collapses onto him.
He holds it close, wincing a little at the drag of the cock inside him, until they both have the energy to separate and it slides out with a little resistance.
A hand touches his hole and then eyes are looking and Arthit knows he’s bright red and he wishes he could hide away for a moment.
A fingertip touches him and he winces away, “A little red and puffy. You might be sore for a bit, but there are no tears that I can see.”
He nods as a burst of joy floods his chest, hearing the care in his voice and feeling the gentle touches.
“Thanks.” He whispers and then a face rests against his chest and he nuzzles into a head of dark hair.
“Thank you. That was.. intense.”
“It was — err..”
“It’s okay.. you don’t have to say anything.”
There’s disappointment and Arthit can’t stand it.
He lifts the head against his chest and looks into warm, distressed eyes, “Don’t. Don’t assume you know what I’m thinking. I just found it hard to describe.” He kisses the mouth, letting his tongue slip in for a moment. “That was amazing. I loved it. I’m glad we did it and I’m really glad it was with you.”
“Yes, exactly. Why do you always assume things about me? Why do you try to put your words into my mouth?” Don’t do that. Ask me instead, or.. give me time to speak.”
“It’s okay. You know now. I should have said. Let’s not spoil this.. whatever this is.”
The voice is stronger now, happier, “I think it’s called an afterglow.”
“Found that out in all your research did you?”
“You know you’re grateful for my research!”
“I suppose I might be..”
“Round two?!” There’s laughter in the voice and Arthit knows it’s not a serious suggestion.
“No, apparently along with the beer drinkers, I’ve got whiskey drinkers to catch too.. and you.. well, you better go back. You shouldn’t be caught here.”
“No. Not a good idea. But, can I see you again?”
Arthit’s heart thumps at the thought and he knows what he wants to say, but he daren’t, so instead he replies, “Let’s see how things go?”
And there’s a nod before they both start to clean up.
They part with a desperate and messy kiss and Arthit wants to fold him in his arms and not let go. But he can’t. He has a job to do. Maybe when all this is over?
Flooded! His room is fucking flooded!
He picks through the papers and books, his soaked shoes and some t-shirts he had thrown in the direction of the laundry basket the previous night. It’s kind of a disaster because he knows that pretty much everyone is out of town, or out drinking with the possibility of getting laid tonight, and he can’t possibly sleep in his room.
His phone rings, ‘0062’.
“You forgot your card, shall I bring it up, or—?”
“Yes. You better come here, I’m in the midst of a disaster.”
He ends up at Kongpob’s room of course, staring across at his own in surprise, “You can see into my room?”
Kongpob smirks, then at Arthit’s frown, thinks better of it and apologises.
“That’s kind of creepy, Kongpob!”
“It’s not! I didn’t look!”
It’s Arthit’s turn to smirk, “I was just teasing you! Now, can I have a shower?”
He’s washing his hair when the door finally opens a crack and Kongpob calls out, “You forgot your towel, Phi, can I put it on the sink?”
Arthit smirks to himself again and swipes his hands through his hair to get rid of the soapy bubbles and then switches off the water, “Yes, you can bring it in.”
Kongpob has a hand over his eyes when he steps inside and Arthit laughs loudly, watching and waiting to see how he reacts.
Eyes fly open at the sound and then dip down interestedly, following the path of the last of the bubbles over Arthit’s collarbone, down the curve of his chest and belly, until they come to rest in the thatch of hair around his half-hard cock.
“Like what you see?” He asks.
“You know I do.” Kongpob replies, dropping the towel and stripping off his shirt as he takes a step forward, “You’ve been teasing me the whole day, Phi!” He whines.
Arthit reaches out to untie the cord of his shorts and then helps Kongpob to slide them down his muscled thighs until they pool at his ankles, “It wasn’t my intention.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been teasing me since the beach.”
Kongpob’s cock springs up as Arthit tugs down his boxers and he can’t help wetting his lips as he watches it press hard against his gloriously sexy abs.
“You look delicious,” Arthit says and Kongpob’s eyes widen.
“Stop it!” Kongpob reaches out a hand to press against his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm, “You’ll make me come before we get to the fun part.”
Arthit chuckles and then winks at Kongpob before he drops to his knees, “The fun part has already started! You think you can spend this whole term catching me off guard in different places and showing me a good time and I wouldn’t retaliate?”
Kongpob whines and Arthit sticks out his tongue, lapping at the clear pre-cum that is beading on the tip of Kongpob’s perfect cock.
“Yum!” He says and Kongpob whines again, a high pitched sound that makes Arthit shiver in anticipation of what’s to come.
“What are you going to do Phi?”
“Well.. I was thinking we should start with a nice lazy blowjob here against the wall of the shower, so that whenever you’re washing your hair you’ll think of me - just like how I think of you kissing me whenever I’m in the cheering hall.”
Kongpob whines again.
“Then, perhaps a nice long fuck - maybe I’ll ride you - in your bed, so that whenever you close your eyes at night you’ll have that image of me above you, just like I think of you when I’m at the back of the bleachers. And perhaps you can suck me off on your knees while I sit in your desk chair, so that everytime you have homework to do, you remember that too?”
Kongpob’s knees have gone weak and he is holding himself up with the walls of the shower, “Yes! Please, I want all of that!”
“Good, because I’m about to start, and Kongpob, this time, I’m in charge! And you’re in for a wild ride!”
It’s been twelve years since they graduated, but they promised the twins they’d bring them here to their old university so they can see where all the famous stories of their youth took place.
“This is where your Papa told everyone he would make me his wife - of course he meant husband, but he didn’t know that then!” Arthit says, elbowing Kongpob in the arm.
“And here’s where I caught your Daddy crying when we all graduated from hazing.” Kongpob replies, pointing at the bleachers and raising an eyebrow.
Arthit flushes pink and Kongpob winks at him while the twins are crawling over the bleachers and picking up bits of confetti from a recent game.
“Over there—” Kongpob points into the distance to the running track and Arthit takes the opportunity to duck under his arm and loop his own around Kong’s waist, squeezing gently. Kongpob grins and drops a kiss onto his forehead, “That’s where your Daddy ran 54 laps!”
“Oi, Kongpob! I didn’t know they knew that story! I thought we were never going to talk about that again?”
Kongpob laughs and then bends to whisper hotly in his ear, “No, darling, we were never going to tell them about any of the hot sex we had in all these places, remember?”
“Is that what he sounded like Papa? Back then, when he was your hazer?”
“Yes my lovely children, that’s exactly what head hazer P’Arthit, sounded like!”
They each take the hand of one of their children and then link their fingers in the middle, continuing on and giving them the ‘family friendly’ tour of their University!
Of course, they still share soft kisses in the places of their youth, their children by their side, memories always at the surface of their thoughts.
And later, bedtime stories told and their children tucked safely to sleep, they meet in a heated embrace in their marital bed and live out their memories in glorious technicolour!