There are notes of a love song on Tine's chest, and Sarawat can't help but stare at them, stunned even though he's known for awhile now that he'd be the one to write them.
They start at the junction of Tine's right shoulder and collarbone and curl down to twist down his sternum and then up again to the left clavicle. Sarawat traces the ledger lines with his thumb, down the edge of a pectoral before the tune dances across the center of Tine's heaving chest and then back up, curling in gentle waves just below his right nipple. His other hand picks up at the end of the song, scraping his nails across the last breaths of stanzas that twist down around Tine's left hip and end at his lower back.
Sarawat's soulmate has the notes of his love song on his chest, and Sarawat is going to bite every one of them .
Something of that thought must show on his face, because below him Tine's breath hitches audibly and the hands that had been hesitantly holding Sarawat's hips suddenly clench hard enough to bruise. He drags his gaze up from the scrawl of notes to drink in the way Tine is looking at him, his irises blown wide, his face flushed, his chest already stuttering with each breath. Sarawat licks his lips and Tine’s fingers fist harshly into the waistline of his jeans, digging the fabric into his skin until it stings. A hiss escapes him and he shuffles back on the mattress, prying those grabby hands off of him long enough so that he can get off the bed and throw the offending pants to the other side of the god damn room. He leaves his boxers on though, unsure of how far Tine wants to take this just yet, not willing or wanting to push him.
On the bed Tine seems to have similar ideas, shimmying out of his pants and pushing himself up the mattress until he’s almost at the headboard. Sarawat arches an eyebrow as he climbs back over him, the barest of warnings before he hooks his arms under Tine’s knees and pulls him right back down.
“Saraleo!” Tine huffs, but Sarawat merely smirks at him as he lets go and moves to straddle Tine’s waist again.
“What?” he asks, sly and smug as he feels his mouth quirk up in a rare smile. “I don’t want you to hit your head.”
“Hit my-” Tine’s words cut off in a strangled, shocked little sound as Sarawat leans down over him and bites down on the first measure of notes that mark out the shape of his soul.
He’s careful, he’s always careful with Tine. Every nip and scrape of his teeth is metered out with soft licks and even softer kisses. He wants to carve out each note raw just as much as he wants to sooth away each red patch of skin he creates. Tine’s breathing has turned ragged, and Sarawat almost vibrates out of his skin when he finally dares to latch his mouth around a pert nipple and is rewarded by one of Tine’s hands leaving his hips to curl into his hair and hold him down as he moans.
“You’re never going to be able to take your shirt off again when I’m done with you,” he warns, twisting his head to the side just far enough to get the words out, to breathe.
Tine whines at the loss of contact, deep and low in his throat. “Like I did that in the first place,” he pants.
Sarawat hums out a note of acknowledgement before getting to work on the other nipple. This time when he sinks his teeth into pink flesh Tine’s back arches up off the bed. Sarwat pulls back again, resting his chin on Tine’s chest. “No,” he agrees lightly, “You didn’t. But you will.” Bleary, wide eyes blink at him and Sarawat grins, all teeth. “It’s just a suggestion, but I think you should leave the top buttons of your shirt undone from now on. I want everyone to see these.” He scrapes the nails of one hand down the ribs of Tine’s left side. “And I want them to know that I wrote them .”
“Oh, fuck ,” Tine gasps, and Sarawat barely has time to acknowledge the way his knees come up behind him before his hands are on his waist again, holding him down as Tine’s hips jerk up beneath him.
And see, Sarawat had been being good. He's hard as a rock of course, but he’s been good. He’s been holding still, keeping himself steady on his knees so that they weren’t quite pressed together, not wanting everything to be too fast, too overwhelming. Not wanting to scare away this stupid, gorgeous, silly boy he’s only just finally been able to stake his claim on after so long of pining. But this, this is too much. It’s entirely too much for him . He groans as Tine’s barely clothed cock grinds up against him and falls forward, bracing himself on the mattress with his elbows on either side of Tine’s chest, his forehead thudding down into the hollow of Tine’s throat.
Tine takes that as a good sign, as he should, Sarawat thinks almost deliriously. He adjusts his grip on Sarawat’s hips, shuffling him up his body a bit so that he can no longer feel Tine’s thighs at his back, and then does it again.
This time it hits just right, the hard length beneath him dragging across his own with the harsh friction of the boxers separating them and Sarawat hears someone whine before he realizes it’s him . “Fuck,” he gasps out, and it takes him two tries to get a hand under himself, to prop himself up enough again to sink his teeth into the notes decorating Tine’s right pectoral. Once he’s started, it seems, Tine is relentless . Wandering thumbs press under the elastic band of his boxers and slide down over the faint lines of his Apollo’s belt, and Sarawat feels every muscle in his lower abdomen clench and jump beneath the touch. And you know what, fuck it. Screw it. Sarawat will get his revenge for this later, he will take Tine apart until he begs for it. But right now he’s got too many weeks and months of pent up everything beneath his skin, too much time spent thinking his mark was wrong, his affection unreturned, to not want this. “ Fuck ,” he hisses as he pushes himself up onto his hands, sliding himself up Tine’s body just a little, just the right amount to get him to press there, there. “Fuck me.”
Tine stills beneath him, and if it weren’t for the way his hands are still pressing into Sarawat’s hips with bruising force, he would think he’s said the wrong thing. Sarawat blinks his eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, and stares down at the sight of Tine’s mouth opening and closing in unrestrained shock.
“Wha-” Tine croaks out faintly. “You- Me ?”
Sarawat barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “Yes, you ,” he says as evenly as he can manage. He gets to his knees and settles his weight back against Tine’s thighs, circling his hips a bit before pressing down again, just to clarify.
Tine’s front half comes up off the bed in an instant with a groan, his arms wrapping around Sarawat’s shoulders and crushing their chests together. Sarawat obliges him, pressing soothing kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his ear, as Tine breathes raggedly against him. “Are you sure?” Tine asks, and Sarawat feels electricity race through his nerves as Tine lowers a hand to grip at his right bicep, where the notes of “Together” are just beginning to twist into the depths of a melody. “Like, seriously,” Tine whispers, “are you positive? Because I thought you would be the one who wanted to . . .” He draws off, his words trailing away into flushed uncertainty.
A laugh works its way out of Sarawat’s lips and Tine makes a little affronted noise before Sarawat leans back just enough to brush their noses together, to kiss it away. “Nuisance,” he scolds, his voice coming out a little more gravely than he means it to. “Of course I do. And I will,” it’s a promise. “Later, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, I’m going to fuck you into this mattress so hard you see stars .” Tine’s breath hitches, and he kisses that away too, tastes the way Tine’s whole body twitches at jerks beneath him at those words in the tremble of his lips. “But right now I want this.” He drags his nails down over the notes of the love song his soul had engraved on Tine’s sternum and grinds his hips down, earning another ragged gasp from his partner. “I need this,” he amends, because he really, really does.
It is with great reluctance that he gets a hand between them, enough to flatten his palm over Tine’s chest, his mark, and push him back and down onto the bed. He instantly feels cold, and Tine protests vehemently with little whines and huffs as he gets up off of him to stalk over to where he’d propped his guitar case against the wall when they’d first stumbled back to his apartment. It takes a moment, mostly because he can’t remember what fucking pocket he put it in when he was being hopeful, but he finally finds it and holds up the tube when Tine lets out a particularly needy whine.
“You put lube in your guitar case!?” Tine snaps, sitting up again. Sarawat bounds back to the bed in a heartbeat and pushes him back down to only the mildest of protests. “What if it had leaked!?”
“Worth it,” Sarawat mutters. He whips his boxers off and wings them as far away as he can before turning back to Tine and stopping him from doing the same with a firm hand on his wrist. “No,” he chastises, moving to straddle the other man’s hips again, raising himself up on his knees just enough so that they don’t quite touch. “Not yet. You get to watch the Sarawat Expo first.”
Tine groans and flops back down across the mattress, his hands covering his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re the worst !”
Ignoring him, Sarawat pops the cap off the tube of lube and coats the first two fingers of his left hand with the stuff. “You’re gonna regret not watching,” he muses as he reaches behind himself. He waits until Tine peeks out between the hands cupped over his face, and then presses both those slicked fingers in.
“Holy shit,” Tine whispers, and he reaches out to grab Sarawat by the hips again, steadying him as he arches back into his own touch. “ Holy shit ,” he repeats hoarsely. “You . . .” His eyes narrow. “Why do you look like you know what you’re doing?”
Sarawat stops and leans down, propping his free arm, the one with his fucking soulmark of Tine’s favorite fucking song, across the other man’s chest. “I don’t know what you’re implying,” he grits out, teeth scraping Tine’s neck. Tine gasps. “But I have been waiting for you for over a year . What the hell else was I supposed to do with my talented hands other than myself .” He nips his way down Tine’s collarbones, his sternum, eating his fill of every note that he wrote before he sits up again and presses deeper into himself with a heady groan.
Tine’s nails dig into his hips, and Sarawat relishes in the thought of the crescent marks they’ll leave in his skin. “Fuck,” Tine mutters. “Ah. Sarawat Expo my ass. You’re such a-”
Pulling his fingers out of himself, Sarawat reaches down and presses the heel of his hand against the bulge in Tine’s boxers, effectively cutting him off and breaking whatever insult he’d been about to spit out off into a filthy moan. “If you think this is bad,” he smirks, slipping his fingers under the waistband of the last barrier between them. “Just wait until you see what I do to you when it’s your turn.” Tine is all but writhing beneath him when he finally drags his boxers off and tosses them aside. “Hey,” he breathes as he grabs the lube again and spreads some out over his palm. “Steady now, you nuisance.”
He grasps Tine at the base, squeezing just enough to make him gasp and buck before he slicks his length up to the tip and swirls his thumb over the head. Tine swears, his thighs bumping against Sarawat’s back as his toes curl into the sheets. “Shit, Saraleo. You- teasing me! Even now when you should be-”
And then Sarawat holds him still and sinks down.
Tine throws his head back onto the pillows and sucks in a jagged, breathy whine of a sound. Sarawat splays his hands out over his chest, nails dragging down over his song as he seats himself, as equally proud as he his staggered by what he’s done. There will definitely be bruises on his left hip tomorrow, his right arm, the skin around his own mark already blooming red where Tine seems to be gripping him for dear life. Once he can breathe again he lets out a low, wild note of satisfaction and reaches down to brush Tine’s sweat-soaked bangs off his face, cupping his fingers under the other’s chin and tilting it up. “Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me. You okay?”
Tine nods and cracks his eyes open. “Yeah. Yeah, I . . .” He hisses when Sarawat swivels his hips a little. “Ah, fuck. I can’t believe you just did that. You’re a monster .”
“Hmm,” Sarawat agrees, rising up on his toes. He relishes in the way Tine’s eyes widen, the way his mouth falls open just slightly, just so as he watches him, and then he slides back down to do it all over again.
Neither of them are going to last long, and Sarawat takes that into account as he moves. Another day he’ll take his time, after he shows Tine how to hit all the right places, teaches him where he wants to be touched and tasted and pressed into just so. Because Sarawat has had his time to practice, to think of Tine and figure this out. But Tine is fresh and new to the feeling and he wants to treat him right. So he goes slow, grinds down, keeps steady as Tine’s clipped little noises turn into softer, higher moans as he gets closer and closer to the edge.
“Sarawat-” Tine gasps out, too soon, and Sarawat forgives him for it because the way he twitches inside him when he comes is new and wonderful and more than enough.
He pulls off, ignoring the slight drip of liquid down his thighs, wary of making Tine oversensitive just to fulfill his own needs. But to his surprise Tine rolls over on top of him almost immediately, his eyes fiery and fierce. “What? No, Wat. You didn’t-”
“It’s fine,” Sarawat intjects, because honestly it is. He’s close anyways, he can take care of himself. But Tine looks positively offended as he suggests this, and warmth blooms in Sarawat’s chest at the sight.
“No,” Tine says again, surer this time. “Tell me what you want, Wat. I’ll do it.”
Bold words, Sarawat thinks. He’ll eat them later. But not now. He rolls over on his side and nudges Tine into a similar position, kissing his shoulder blade when Tine gives him an incredulous look over it. “Like this,” he murmurs against his skin.
He really is too close for this, he thinks hazily as he coats himself in more lube, and he has to take a moment to tuck his head into Tine’s neck, to scrape his teeth over a hickey he doesn’t remember leaving but surely must have as he steadies himself. “Press your legs together,” he coaxes, wrapping his arms around Tine’s chest and pinching at his nipples. Tine bites his lip and makes a bewildered, needy noise, but complies.
This, Sarawat thinks as he slips his slicked cock in between Tine’s clenched thighs, works pretty well as a preview of all the ways he’s absolutely going to wreck this man later.
Tine’s back arches against his chest as Sarawat brushes against his spent, sensitive member, and the groan he lets out is almost feral with need. “ Shit .”
“Hold still,” Sarawat scolds, abandoning his attack on Tine’s chest with one hand in favor of making sure his writhing nuisance’s legs stay closed around him. His other hand stays cupped around one of those lovely pecs though, the tips of his fingers tracing the ledger lines on his skin as he fucks into the tight space between Tine’s thighs.
It only takes a few thrusts, what with the noises Tine is making and how Sarawat is still sore in all the right places. He bites down on the juncture of Tine’s neck when he comes, his eyes fixed on the way Tine’s hands are gripping at his arm bearing the notes of “Together” where it wraps around his chest.
They lay there for a long moment, panting and shaking until Tine pulls away with a put upon huff. Sarawat rolls over onto his back again, watching out of the corners of his eyes as Tine inspects the mess between thighs with a pout. “Too much?” he smirks, and Tine frowns at him.
“Depends,” Tine says without looking at him. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”
Sarawat hears the flirtatious tone, acknowledges it, and then decides to one up it. “Yeah,” he says, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back across the bed. He waits until Tine twists around to stare at him, to watch him spread himself across the mattress. Good boy. “ You .”
Tine flushes so deeply it spreads to his chest, to his notes, and Sarawat grins. “Alright, Saraleo,” he says, one hand reaching up to cover his pink cheeks. “That wasn’t fair at all! What is wrong with you! Have you been practicing your flirting too?”
“Maybe,” Sarawat admits. Tine snorts and pushes at his shoulders, leaning his head against his chest and shaking it when he doesn’t budge. Sarawat laughs.
“Saraleo, stoooop,” he whines. “Get up. Up! We’re both gross! We need to shower!”
Sarawat brightens and sits up, “Oh?”
Tine makes a face at him, “Oh my god, you’re insatiable! Up, up!” Sarawat gets up, letting himself be pushed towards the bathroom on slightly unsteady legs and only dragging his feet just a little, just to piss Tine off.
But Tine is on to him, apparently, because he digs his chin into Sarawat’s shoulder in the doorway to the bathroom and mutters, his face so red his ears are flushed too, “Hurry up or I won’t blow you in there.”