Unlike a lot of gays he knows, Sarawat never had a phase of questioning his sexuality. He’s just always known. His first crush, first jerkoff fantasy, first wet dream—all boys. He may have fancied himself in love with Pam in high school but if he's honest it was never a physical love. He's never felt the slightest stirring of arousal for a girl, despite having an entire fan club eager to pursue him.
But if he had ever doubted it? Any confusion would be one hundred percent erased right now, because going down on Tine is the single most erotic experience of his life.
He’s pretty sure he starts out awful at it and it’s still the most erotic experience of his life.
First, anytime he can get his mouth on Tine, any part of Tine, is a banner moment in Sarawat’s opinion. He pretty much wants to eat Tine alive 24/7 for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack. Having Tine spread out naked under him with all that smooth, kissable skin on display, blushing so beautifully with arousal, literally makes his mouth water.
And the way Tine yields. Dear god in heaven. Sarawat had no clue he’d be into that, especially given how turned on he’d been by Tine’s more assertive moments—but the way that Tine goes boneless and pliant as Sarawat kisses his way down his body is sexy as fuck. Tine’s head is thrown back on his pillow, lips parted, eyes closed; his arms are flung over his head and crossed at the wrist as though bound together; and the sound he makes when Sarawat experimentally places a hand loosely around his throat is obscene. Sarawat has to file that information for future reference because it’s way too much to handle right now, but his supposedly spent cock perks right up and takes notice.
(That part of his anatomy is a big fan of Tine in every possible position, though. Sarawat has gotten erections just watching a fully clothed Tine reading a law textbook. In his defense, Tine tends to bite his lower lip when he concentrates.)
Sarawat takes his time. The journey, not the destination, right? And there are fascinating landmarks along the route from Tine’s lush mouth to his waiting cock. Sweet nipples to tease with his tongue and teeth, sixpack abs to admire, a taut waist to span with his big hands and squeeze, the dip of Tine’s navel to delve. Sarawat loves it all.
Finally, though, he reaches the promised land of Tine’s loins and pauses a moment to admire the view, because damn, Tine’s got a pretty cock. He’s about average in length but he’s thick and unlike the majority of Thai men he’s circumcised, so the tempting round plum of his glans is already on full display and blushing as sweetly pink as Tine’s cheeks. Sarawat can’t resist planting a lingering kiss on the tip, teasing the tiny slit with his tongue before attempting a gentle suction.
“Sarawat,” Tine groans. “Oh god, Wat…”
Encouraged by the pleading note in Tine’s voice, Sarawat draws the entire head into his mouth, lusciously plump on his tongue. Tine smells of body wash and warm boy but tastes lightly of musk and salt. He tries a little nibble, just barely scraping the glans with his teeth, and is rewarded by another gasp of "Sarawat!" from his boyfriend. Humming with pleasure, he begins a slow rhythm with his hand at the base and his lips and tongue working the tip, gradually taking in more of Tine’s length with each repetition. He feels a little uncoordinated at first; this isn’t the angle he’s accustomed to from stroking himself, and he’s never had to consciously consider the limits of his gag reflex before. Why are bodies so inconvenient? The logistics of doing this the first time are distracting when all he really wants is to lose himself in the taste and feel of Tine.
God, Tine is stunning like this. He’s mostly nonverbal as Sarawat continues, other than the occasional gasp of “yes” or “please,” but Tine’s body is eloquent in its approval. His cock throbs on Sarawat’s tongue; his thighs loosen and part invitingly; his back takes on a pleading arch; his hands come down to fist in Sarawat’s hair and he moans, long and half-pained and gorgeous. Sarawat feels as powerful as a despotic king at that sound. He steps up the pace to draw that sound out of Tine again, wishing he could record it and put it on repeat the way Tine listens to Scrubb. That’s the sound of his boy wanting him, and it’s fucking beautiful.
Just as Sarawat’s jaw is starting to ache, he feels something nudge his free hand. He lifts his head, curious, and his eyes widen when he sees that Tine is trying to pass him the tube of lube. Sarawat is pretty sure he knows why, but this seems like a bad moment to assume.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
Tine’s face is lightly flushed, his gaze intent on Sarawat. He still looks like an angel, but a newly fallen one now. Sarawat wonders what’s wrong with him, that Tine’s look of wide-eyed, fresh-faced innocence makes him long so fiercely to wreck and sully it—to bite that pale clean skin, to draw filthy obscenities from those sweetly parted lips, to bend Tine into impossible positions and intrude into every nook and cranny of him, all his warm dark places, and oh god to come on Tine and in Tine…
“I want whatever you’re thinking when you look at me that way,” Tine says raggedly. “But let’s start with your fingers. Take it slow, though, OK?”
Sarawat nods, not trusting his voice, and takes the tube from Tine’s hand.
In the movies, two people fall into bed together for the first time and everything is amazing. All the body parts meet as though choreographed, all the orgasms are satisfying and simultaneous, and nobody ever farts. Nothing hurts. Everything fits. It’s magical.
It’s a big fucking lie.
In real life, Sarawat is already realizing, sex is messy. Messy, awkward, emotionally confusing, sometimes downright painful—and embarrassing. Holy fuck is it embarrassing.
Fifteen minutes after Tine handed off that all-important tube, Sarawat’s bare ass is getting chilly, Tine’s erection is flagging, there’s lube everywhere, and he’s still struggling to work a second finger into an orifice that he’s increasingly convinced will never be able to accommodate his perversely eager dick.
Also? Tine is laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Sarawat grumbles, pressing a sullen kiss to Tine’s belly. “Also I hate you now.”
“It kind of is,” Tine insists, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “and no, you don’t. Wat, I’m not laughing at you, OK? You know I’m not.”
“I know no such thing.” Sarawat glares up at him from between Tine’s spread thighs. “I’m down here trying to do my best work and you’re up there snickering, you ingrate. What am I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know, that sex is supposed to be fun and bodies are ridiculous? I’m sorry! You just looked so serious and worried with your defusing-a-bomb face, and it struck me funny, that’s all. I really am sorry, I—” Suddenly Tine gives a little half-gasp and goes still. “Uh. Wat? Do that again.”
“That thing with your finger. That...wiggle.”
“This?” Experimentally Sarawat repeats the little beckoning gesture with his forefinger, the one currently worked three knuckles deep in the tantalizing heat of Tine’s body.
“Uh...huh…” Tine’s voice has taken on a strangled tone that shouldn’t be sexy, but damned if it isn’t. “Oh god...”
Intrigued, Sarawat tries varying the angle and amount of force, alternating gentle thrusts of his finger with the crooking move, and is rewarded with the sweetest, filthiest moan from Tine. “You like that?”
“Ohfuckyes, don’t stop, don’t—”
Sarawat can’t suppress a little grin. Who’s laughing now, Pretty Boy? he thinks with satisfaction, and dares to try again to work a second well-lubed finger into Tine’s warmth. This time he’s successful and Tine doesn’t just moan, he begs.
“Fuck. More. I. Wat. Please, oh god—Sarawat, please. ”
Tine begging is the most powerful aphrodisiac Sarawat could ever imagine. His angel is well and truly fallen now, lightly sheened in sweat and writhing helplessly on Sarawat’s thrusting fingers, still tight but noticeably more yielding than before. Sarawat has never seen a more beautiful sight. He could get drunk on it. He wonders if he could make Tine come like this, just by fucking him with his fingers.
He wants to know. He wants to know every secret Tine’s body can teach him.
When he feels Tine’s hands tugging at his hair, he thinks at first that it’s just part of their sex play. But when Tine repeats it harder with a sharp “Sarawat!” it dawns on him that this is a stop-now signal, not an expression of passion. He halts at once, scanning Tine’s face for any signs of distress or pain.
“What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly. “Was I too rough?”
Tine shakes his head fractionally. “Nothing’s wrong, I just—come here, all right? Just for a minute.”
Willing but baffled, Sarawat carefully extracts his fingers and wipes them on the edge of the sheet. He goes into the arms Tine opens for him, accepts the kiss Tine offers—slow and soft—and nuzzles the hand his boyfriend presses to his cheek. But all the while his brain is anxiously buzzing. Did he do something wrong? Is Tine nervous? Does he need reassuring? Is he changing his mind? Sarawat is just about to ask when Tine finally speaks again.
“You said something, earlier. Did you mean it?”
Oh. Fuck. Now he’s the one who’s nervous. “Yeah. I did.”
“Say it again.”
Sarawat finds his courage in Tine’s eyes, wide and dark and wondering. When he leans close enough he can see himself reflected there.
“I love you,” he says simply. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, Tine.”
Tine’s face is so solemn that the dawning of a sweet, exasperated smile is unexpected, like a beam of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.
“Love at first sight, Wat? Seriously?” Tine caresses his cheek, his thumb just barely brushing the corner of Sarawat’s mouth. “Do you always have to be such an overachiever? I didn’t realize till this afternoon.”
“That I love you too.”
Sarawat will live to be a very old man—nearly as old as his husband, who lives to see one hundred and hold their newborn great-great-grandchild in his arms. But in all his long expanse of years and memories, this is the moment Sarawat will treasure above all the rest:
Tine at eighteen, achingly beautiful and heartbreakingly young, smiling into his eyes and saying “I love you too.”
The movies are still a lie. Even when they can honestly call it making love, sex still isn’t magical.
At one critical point Sarawat freezes up and flat-out refuses to proceed because Tine hurts. The one thing he swore above everything else, that he would never hurt Tine, and he’s already managed to do it with his big, stupid, overeager dick. He’d rather forego sex entirely than cause Tine any more pain.
His boyfriend has other ideas, though. He locks his ankles at the back of Sarawat’s thighs, fists both hands in Sarawat’s hair, and fixes him with a feral glare that would be intimidating if it weren’t such a turn-on.
“You stop now,” Tine hisses between clenched teeth, “and you die.”
Holy shit. Even that’s a turn-on. Sarawat is impossibly hard and very, very confused. He stares down at Tine, afraid to move.
“But I’m hurting you,” he says unhappily. “Tine, I’m hurting you.”
Tine makes a low moan of frustration. “Yes. A little. And you’re also parked on my prostate, you sadistic prick, and it’s driving me insane—so will you please, please, please move your gorgeous ass and fuck me already?”
Sarawat blinks. “You really want me to?”
Tine closes his eyes and sighs like a long-suffering martyr. “Saraleo. Love of my life. Literal pain in my ass. How many ways do I have to spell this out?”
“I don’t know, I—” Sarawat’s throat nearly closes from anxiety; his next words come out sounding as choked as though he’s about to cry. “I’m sorry. I just hate hurting you, I’m scared to get this wrong, and I—” He swallows hard. “Just tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me exactly what you want. Seriously, Tine. Please.”
“Oh, Sarawat.” This time Tine’s sigh is soft, and so is the touch of his hands as he releases his tight clench on Sarawat’s hair to cradle his face between both palms. “Fuck. Come here.”
For a confused moment Sarawat thinks, Come here? I’m already inside you! But Tine is already kissing him, soft and warm and unhurried, and despite his anxiety Sarawat relaxes into it and savors that lush, sweet mouth on his.
“Now look at me,” Tine says when the kiss ends, “and trust me.”
“I always trust you,” Sarawat says immediately.
“Then trust me to know my own body, OK?” Tine’s hands move to his shoulders, where they deliver a firm squeeze before stroking down the flat planes of his back to settle warmly at Sarawat’s waist. “I know how it feels and I know what I want.”
He begins to move under Sarawat then, pushing upward with a gentle nudge of his hips, taking Sarawat just a fraction of a centimeter deeper.
Sarawat closes his eyes. It’s so much. So much. “You’re so tight,” he whispers.
Tine’s mouth brushes along the line of his jaw. “And you’re big,” he murmurs in reply, “and I like it. Move in me, Sarawat, just a little. Let me feel how hard and big you are for me.”
Sarawat can’t hold back a low moan as he obeys, rocking his hips just enough to create the slightest back-and-forth motion inside Tine. “So tight,” he repeats. “Tine, oh god—”
“Shhh.” The hands at his waist slip lower, taking firm hold of Sarawat’s ass to guide his movement. “Shhh, baby. Just feel. Feel and listen to me, OK? Fuck into me a little deeper, nice and slow, that’s it. In and out, gentle, gentle...so good, Wat. A little more now. Oh god, good boy, good boy, oh my god…” His back arches and he moves more firmly against Sarawat, his gentle nudges meeting Sarawat’s slow-motion thrusts. “Now kiss me again, and fuck into me harder while you do.”
Again Sarawat obeys, his own words echoing in his mind: You asked me. I’ll always give you what you ask for, Tine. He takes Tine’s mouth and his body too, rocking harder into that tight exquisite heat, swallowing the little whimper the motion forces out of Tine. A pleasure sound or pain? His hips stutter with his uncertainty and he raises his head, searching Tine’s face.
Tine answers his unspoken question with a single hungry word: “More.”
It’s the last crack in the dam of Sarawat’s self-control. With a wordless cry he thrusts hard into Tine, bottoming out at last, and begins to fuck him in earnest.
It’s still not movie perfection. They knock their teeth together once, they get out of sync a few times, and when they try to shift position Sarawat slips out of him entirely and nearly kills the mood with his awkward apologies. And Sarawat is practically on the verge of climax himself before he realizes what a selfish bastard he’s being and gets a fist wrapped around Tine’s poor neglected hard-on. It’s amateur sex at its not-so-finest—but it’s still Tine under him, Tine on his cock, Tine who loves him crying out Sarawat’s name as he goes to shuddering pieces in his arms.
It’s also Tine who makes him sleep on the wet spot when neither of them has the energy to get up and fetch fresh sheets. But gazing down at Tine’s sweet satiated face, Sarawat can’t bring himself to mind.
He kisses Tine’s damp brow. “Love of your life, huh?”
Tine smacks him without even opening his eyes. “Don’t get cocky about it. But yeah.”
Sarawat sighs contentedly. “Oh, good. That’s two of us then.”