Chapter Text
If I was born as a blackthorn tree,
I'd wanna be felled by you,
Held by you,
Fuel the pyre of your enemies
- Hozier -
~ NFWMB ~
Porsche drained the last of his beer and rocked back in his chair with a heavy sigh.
Jom and Tem had left, taking the jovial mood with them and leaving nothing but empty beer bottles and a deafening silence in their wake. The quiet was overpowering and now Porsche had nothing left to distract him from thoughts of him.
He sighed in frustration, wiping a hand over wet eyes as flashes of skin and teeth and lips ricocheted through his mind.
“Fuck.”
He stood up abruptly, swaying in place, trying to stop his mind from going there. But his body still held the aches of Kinn’s touch; a twinge in his lower back, a bite mark that throbbed at the base of his neck, the bruised imprints of fingers on his hips. It was like Kinn was still here, still touching him even now.
Another flash, another memory; Kinn pushing and pulling at him, moving Porsche’s pliant body to satisfy his whims and desires. Porsche’s breath fogging the window he was pressed against. Sweat rolling down his back. The sting of sharp teeth at his ear. Fingers entwined with his own. A hand on his cock, wrenching his orgasm from him. His words, his voice so dark and desperate in his ear.
“So fucking tight.”
Porsche flung the empty bottle and heard it smash in the distance.
Fuck you, Kinn. He thought.
Fuck you for what you did to me.
Fuck you for making me like it.
And there it was.
That was the thought that Porsche had tried to desperately to hide from himself…he had liked what Kinn had done to him. He had liked being taken apart, being bitten and scratched and fucked up against that window for the whole world to see. He had liked it.
But it was more than that. Deep down he knew, he had liked that it was Kinn who was pressed against him, solid and warm, chasing away the phantom touches of the man in white.
But now he felt ashamed. He felt dirty and used and wrong. Like he didn’t quite fit in his body anymore.
And angry, so angry at what had almost happened to him that night…and angry at what had happened to him. But more than anything else Porsche was angry with himself because he had kissed Kinn, he had reached out to him, touched him…let him do those things.
And then Kinn had just moved on to the next warm body without so much as a backward glance at Porsche. Like what they did meant nothing to him.
What did I expect? He thought, swaying on the spot. My fault, my fault. No-one to blame but myself.
How could Porsche be around him now? He didn’t know what to say, how to act. He didn’t know how he felt about the man, so confused and conflicted by his own feelings. How could he be his bodyguard when he felt this way, when he felt so angry? When he wanted to punch him? When he wanted to kiss him?
He took in a shuddering breath, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. He needed to sleep. He just needed to sleep and forget about this, forget this whole thing ever happened.
He was just glad Ché wasn’t here to see him like this. Ché with his kind eyes and big heart, who would ask questions and make Porsche talk to him…and Porsche didn’t think he could ever talk about this.
A sound behind him made Porsche freeze. A footstep, gravel crunching under a boot. Someone was here. Hair prickled on the back of Porsche’s neck and he ducked behind the table. Something wasn’t right. He waited, holding his breath. Another step this time to his right. He picked up a discarded bottle and inched away. Two men came into view, guns raised, black masks pulled over their faces.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Porsche shifted back, hoping they would turn towards the house but his foot knocked a bottle. Fuck! He leapt from his hiding place, bottle raised and smashed it into the face of the first man he reached. He went down with a yell and the other man turned, raising his gun but Porsche was too fast, slamming into him. The gun went flying and Porsche drove a fist into the man’s jaw.
“Fucking bastard,” The man swore, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
He lunged at Porsche who darted back, slamming into another body. They struggled, grappling with one another but finally Porsche untangled himself and darted a panicked glance around.
Fuck, there’s too many of them.
“You’re coming with us,” The man in front of him said.
“Not fucking likely.” Porsche replied and raised his fists.