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There are times when life is particularly hard, Porsche would come home with Kinn slouching on the bed, looking like a sad puppy caught in the rain. His skin is paler, his eyes darker, his hair is a mess.
“Kinn?” He asks, attentively cupping his cheeks, as if Kinn would break. Kinn is a powerful man, yet he’s letting himself be broken in Porsche’s hands. “Darling, are you ok? What happened?”
Kinn shivers at the pet name, leaning more into his touch. Porsche goes gooey at that. “Oh, baby. What do you need?”
His boyfriend squeezes his eyes. His jaw suddenly clenches tight. Then, he grabs Porsche, almost blindly, and hauls him into his lap, more harshly than he usually does. Not that Porsche minds.
Kinn presses his face into his cleavage, inhaling deep, holds, then exhales. His breath is hot and stuttering, blowing the stress out like a deflating ball. His grip on Porsche’s sides is bruising. Porsche cards his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, “Calm down, little pup. I’m here.”
Kinn stays rigid for one moment, before loosening his hands. “-orry,” His voice cracks, “Mama.”
Porsche’s heart throbs. “It’s fine.” His fingers trail down his nape, holding him there, “What do you need?” He tries again.
Kinn nuzzles deeper, the way he wants to crawl inside his ribcage to hide from whichever reality triggers him. His palms are moving, aggressive, pawing and kneading his skin. His back. His ass. His thighs.
“N’d u...” Kinn mumbles in the end. Porsche titles his head so he can hear better.
“Huh?”
“Need you,” Kinn repeats, still hoarse, but at least much more audible. Porsche watches the tip of his boyfriend’s nose run along the line between his pecs, nudging his shirt open wider. Then suddenly, he bites down, right next to his nipple. Porsche can’t help a hiss.
Annoyed, he grips his hair and yanks him off his chest. Kinn’s eyes are dazed and misty, he looks flush, pretty out of it. Desperate, to be true. All the irritation vanishes, Porsche wants nothing more than to indulge him, “Are you hungry?”
Kinn blinks, as if he can’t make out what Porsche said. No problem, Porsche can be patient for him, especially in moments like this.
Finally, the latter nods, “Yes, mama.”
“I will feed you, but you can’t bite unless I say so, ok?” His boyfriend's eyes wander down when Porsche unbuttons his shirt, hence he tightens his hold, forcing his gaze up, “Am I clear, Kinn?” He scowls. This seems effective because Kinn gives him another obedient nod, apparently coming to himself a little bit. Porsche loosens his fingers, massaging his undoubtedly aching scalp, “Be good for mama, alrighty?”
Kinn doesn’t hesitate to latch on his nipple the moment his shirt is off. He suckles hard, prompting a shudder running across Porsche’s spine, then lapping like Porsche would reduce milk if he's eager enough. The younger swallows his own whimper, rubbing a soothing hand on those board shoulders. Pleasure and heat babble through his blood when the other sucks loudly, but he ignores them to focus on Kinn's need.
“Poor baby.” He coos, to which the other answers with a whine. Kinn makes a wet slurping sound, eyes shut tight, one of his hands grasps Porsche’s other pec, and Porsche melts, although his head is incredibly level. He hushes, the desire to protect and nurture swelling to the point of hurting, “Don’t worry. I’m with you. Mama isn’t going anywhere.”
Kinn halts, mouth remains enclosed around Porsche’s bud without biting or chewing. Such a good boy. Next, he huffs, damp breath tingling Porsche, who is sure his breasts will sore like hell tomorrow, with how hard Kinn ravishes them. But again, not that he minds.
“Mama is sweet,” Kinn murmurs against his inflaming bead, sounding much better. Porsche hums, approving his baby to drag him closer, snugging his face into his skin. Suctions turn into kisses, scattered all over his chest and flanks, planting some hickeys on his wake, before he's back to his nipple - not the one he assaulted earlier. The stimulation somewhat makes Porsche dizzy, it's lucky that Kinn is gentler this time, sucking and licking, moaning quietly in his throat as if he can really taste milk.
This thought tucks at Porsche's nerves, sending sparks to the tips of his fingers and toes.
“Baby wants more.” Kinn abruptly voices up. The younger is jolted by bold hands squeezing his butt, despite that, Kinn is shooting him a pitiful glance through his thick lashes. “Can I have more, mama?”
Kinn is wood-hard and panting heavily, but he has behaved so well. His love is a starving child, for affection and security, though his hunger is satisfied to some degree, it’s not enough. Not yet. Porsche understands this better than anyone.
“Of course.” He smiles, grinding his ass down. He watches Kinn shiver, feeling nails digging into his lower back. “Good boy deserves rewards.” He praises, inside flutters at the shine in those black eyes. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”