Work Text:
Chan rolls open the steel door to Intimate Mafia Industries and immediately pauses.
On the other side of the warehouse, there’s a boy talking to his boy.
He observes for a silent moment before turning his attention to the approach of Taechin, dressed today in attractively tight leather trousers, a pale lilac silk blouse, and a number of crystal pendants on silver chains. The trousers are probably safe, but he could have at least three weapons concealed within the blouse.
Actually, upon reflection: it’s Taechin. The trousers are probably not safe.
There’s a British phrase that Chan remembers fondly from his time training with the SAS. He likes to paraphrase it for moments like this –
You can take the man out of the head bodyguard role, but you can’t…
“All the exits closed for you sir.” Taechin says, because he’s a respectful boy and understands that Chan won’t be able to…focus…in the way he needs to, unless he’s certain the area is secure. Chan has a great deal of admiration for the young man and his entrepreneurial spirit; IMI is by far and away the best company in the sex industry. Chan knows this, because when Young Master Kinn decided to invest in the company, Chan did some quiet investigating of his own and was very impressed by what he found.
It's been a decade since Chan formally parted ways with the Theerapanyakul family, but he honours his – friend’s? Employer’s? Master Korn never made it quite clear which – final wishes and keeps an eye on his sons for him. That’s how he’s ended up with this particular side hustle, as Young Master Khun would call it. Taechin had obligingly handed over all the information he had on his employees when Chan had asked – probably delighted to be getting a free background check on them all – and whilst working his way through the stack Chan had come across…
On the other side of the warehouse, Big’s head comes up as though pulled by an invisible string. He glances over, sees Chan, and immediately starts detaching himself from his current conversation. Chan is pleased, although he doesn’t let it show. Good boy.
“Sir? If you’ve got a moment later on I’d love to run a few concept ideas past you?” Taechin is saying. Chan ponders this as he adjusts his shirt cuffs.
“Summary?”
“Leather fetish requests. Some for pup play. I’m looking into buying some new equipment too.”
“I have a contact in the personalised toys industry.” Chan says absently. Big is close enough now that Chan can inspect him properly. “Custom made rigs and the like. I’ll provide you with her details. I’ll consider the rest, but it will be up to Big to decide.” He shoots a quick glance at the young man beside him. “Please do not apply any pressure to him.”
They both know how Big responds to orders, to expectations, to praise. How much he wants to do a good job for people. Chan would be very displeased if Taechin were to take advantage of that.
“Of course, I would never. IMI wants all its employees to be authentically happy.”
“Good.” Chan says, and then takes two long strides to close the final gap between him and Big.
“Sir.” Big says, and then stops. Chan wonders, not for the first time, if he has any idea of how little control he has over his face, how his eyes are huge and pleading above those pretty, pretty cheekbones that Chan has left striped with cum more times than he can count, and on a couple of memorable occasions, pink from the imprint of his hand. The thoughts are pleasant to dwell on but it is not quite the time or place, so Chan controls himself and only reaches out to gently straighten the collar of Big’s shirt, a centimetre out of place.
“Interesting conversation?” he asks, both because he’s curious and as a subtle reminder to Big not to lean into the touch whilst they’re in public, as much as he clearly wants to, his eyelashes fluttering. Sweet, sweet boy. Chan’s cock throbs a little. Big’s being good though, learning to behave himself, so he straightens up at the unspoken hint. Intriguingly he then scowls.
“That’s Porsche. He had – some really weird questions.”
“Oh, was he asking you about…” Taechin, still hovering nearby, suddenly asks. He deliberately doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t seem to need to, because Big’s nodding, his face sour.
“Yeah. Who even asks that? What a weirdo. And he kept calling me dude.”
“You know, I think he mostly does that on purpose nowadays.” Taechin says thoughtfully. Chan has now reached the upper limit of his tolerance for being excluded from the conversation and raises an eyebrow at Big, who flushes.
“Sorry – sir. He’s…Porsche is a, um…”
“New recruit.” Taechin interrupts smoothly. “He’s paired with Kinn.”
Now that’s interesting. Chan gives Taechin a firm look, making clear his expectation that everything Taechin has on this…Porsche…will be in Chan’s hands by the time he’s finished his own session. Then he puts the entire situation out of his mind. He has other things to focus on.
“Is everything ready?” he asks, and gets two nods in response and Chan turns and heads in the direction of their usual set, knowing they’ll follow behind. Taechin’s boyfriend, the one whose name he never makes an effort to recall, and the rest of the crew are all there, next to the set up Chan had requested in advance – a long, low couch in black leather, sturdy legs and wide armrests. There’s a little tray on the side and he hears Big make a soft, almost-silent sound, even though it’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary, just some lube, a cockring, a pair of weighted nipple clamps in the peg style that Chan prefers with a pretty silver drop hanging from each one to match the hoops in Big’s ears. There’s some restraints too, just a few long lengths of soft black material, and Chan feels a little tug in his belly looking at them. They’re working on Big managing to control himself with just his will, but it’s a struggle, so the restraints help.
He settles himself in the middle of the couch, tugging his jacket straight and crossing one leg over his knee. There’s the usual pre-action bustle all around, lights being adjusted and camera angles double-checked, but Chan only has eyes for his boy, standing just off the set and trying his best to look tough and unintimidated. Chan knows better though. He lets his gaze travel over Big, admiring his stubborn chin, the little clench between his brows, his pretty pink vulnerable mouth. Chan’s had his share of pretty boys – even a pretty girl or two – but none of them have quite captivated him in the way Big has. Big, his sweet, desperate, frantic, needy boy, who craves a firm hand and a thick cock and would lap Chan’s cum off the floor if Chan told him to.
Chan squares his shoulders, lets himself settle a little deeper into the headspace he needs for this, never shifting his eyes off the other man, not even when Taechin comes over for a final check. His mouth is almost dry with anticipation, imagining the first moment when Big’s going to sink to his knees in front of him, when he’s going to tumble into Chan’s arms, open himself up in every way he possibly can. Imagining Big calling him that word again, the way he only has once before.
He can’t wait anymore. The cameras will just have to catch up. Chan lifts his hand and beckons, and Big –
Big hesitates.
~
“Man how do you still get nervous?” Time asks, rudely, cos he’s an arsehole. “You’ve gotten fucked on camera like, a hundred times. You’ve gotten fucked by Chan, like, twenty times –”
“Six.” Big snaps back. “This is the seventh.”
“So, what, you’re superstitious now? Want me to pick you up a Buddha pendant from the market? Want to go to temple and ask for –”
“You’re a dick you know that?”
“And you’re about to take one,” Time replies cheerfully. “So get over there and spread ‘em, sweetheart.” He gives Big a shove towards the soundstage and turns back to his camera. Big turns back to the couch and the man sitting on it.
Chan looks like he always does, fucking incredible, in some perfect tailored suit out of some fancy dark grey material, with a crisp pale shit and shiny shoes. Big knows he looks even better out of all that fancy shit, solid and trim in the way that very fit middle-aged men are, the ones who’ve spent their whole lives physically active, with dark curling chest hair and shoulders so wide they make Big feel like a fucking teenager again, and his cock –
Big swallows hard. He’s honestly got no idea how he ended up here, why one day Tay called him in and said they were trying him out with a new partner, an older guy, was that good with him, how did he feel about a light D/s vibe, maybe a bit of Daddy Dom, nothing more than that, nothing hardcore or anything, he didn’t have to say the word, it was just a vibe, just – just a guy telling him what to do, like, sexually and, and…caringly. If Big was up for that.
And like a fool, Big had shrugged, laughed, shrugged again and signed on the dotted line, hadn’t really had any idea what he was agreeing to. His last vid had been popular – his old flatmate Ken and some other guys running a train on him – and handling one bossy old guy after that didn’t seem like a big ask.
And then Chan had turned his world upside down and inside out. Big still goes hot and dizzy all over when he remembers that first shoot they did, when Chan had got him so confused that he’d even said – he’d said –
He looks up, feeling hot under the collar of his shirt, too hot already under the studio lights. Fuck, this happens every time. Right before the shoot he works himself into a state, feeling freaked out and nervous and really, really horny, already damp in his shorts because Big’s always gotten really wet, leaking everywhere. That first time, Chan had laughed, low and deep, when he saw, and Big’s heart had tried to hide inside his stomach because he hated being laughed at, hated it, but when Chan did it then it was like lightning flashes inside his brain and –
He's daydreaming so hard that he doesn’t notice, doesn’t spot Chan beckoning him over, and then when he does notice it’s coupled with the realisation that he’s been ignoring the older man, shit, what if Chan thinks that was deliberate, like, Big was actually being rude to him? What if –
“Ready?” asks Time, and then without even looking he’s shoving Big onto the set.
Big stumbles forwards and the second his feet cross the tape on the floor the rest of the world drops away, only a distant awareness of the cameras still there. None of those people matter. The only person who matters is –
“Sir,” he says. Chan’s just looking steadily back at him without moving an inch but Big remembers the command in the gesture he missed and belatedly follows it, trying not to trip over his own feet as he walks to stand in front of Chan on the couch. Chan lifts one of his fingers the smallest amount and he obediently shifts a little to the right so the cameras have a better angle.
He and Chan have a phone call before every shoot. Agreeing the broad details of the scene, what Big’s comfortable with, re-confirming safe words. Big always has to jerk himself stupid after every call, hearing Chan describe in calm, thoughtful tones exactly what he plans to do to Big’s body, the ways he expects Big to be good for him. But at the end of every call Chan reminds him – they’re professionals. The cameras are what matter.
“Big.” Chan says, still just looking at him. Big has to fight down the urge to fidget. Normally he’s being bent over something by this point but Chan’s looking at him more thoughtfully than usual. Then he uncrosses his legs, so suddenly that Big jerks slightly, becoming embarrassingly aware that despite his nerves his underwear is still damp and sticky over the head of his cock, clinging to him every time he shifts. He knows Chan knows. He’s so distracted by the mess he’s making of himself that it doesn’t register for a second that Chan’s speaking.
“Undress.”
“Like – like this?” Big asks. The cameras aren’t set up for a striptease and Chan isn’t looking like he wants one, but he gave Big an order and that’s enough. He fumbles for the hem of his shirt and drags it off over his head and feels better when Chan lets out a little breath, too low to be picked up by the mics.
Even embarrassed and nervous he's still horny enough to pound rocks; hearing Chan getting turned on by him sends it ratcheting up to a hundred.
He kicks his shoes and socks and jeans off and stands there in his black briefs, swallowing hard at the way Chan’s gaze is resting squarely on the stained fabric across his groin. The man’s eyebrow lifts a little.
“Already?”
Humiliation stirs, hot and thick, in Big’s belly. Time – the fucking arsehole – is zooming in for a close-up shot of just how desperate Big is, how Chan hasn’t even touched him, fuck, hasn’t even got within three feet of him and Big’s so needy for it that he’s already dripping.
“And the rest.” Chan says, and Big shoves his underwear down, face flaming bright red as his cock slaps against his stomach. A bit of cum dribbles down his foreskin. Chan and Big both watch it as it trembles for an instant and then falls to the concrete floor with a soft plop! “Messy,” says Chan, and then he throws something at Big.
Big catches it with one hand, which is good, because if he’d fumbled it then embarrassment probably would have made him cum on the spot. Then he stares down at the lube in his hand and thinks maybe that’s going to happen anyway.
“Open yourself up for me, there’s a good boy.” Chan says, except he says it in English, in that accent that makes Big’s knees weak, which is the last thing you want when you’ve just been ordered to stick your fingers in your own arse whilst staying standing. And let’s not forget the camera that’s going to be inches away from his arsecrack whilst he does so.
Another droplet of cum hits the floor. Big has to close his eyes against the wave of mortification that rushes through him. He’s so messy.
He gets lube everywhere, smeared over the skin of his hip whilst he’s reaching round and then he’s used so much of it that it immediately starts oozing down his thigh. Chan watches it with an expressionless face and that single raised eyebrow, like he’s planning on giving Big an annual performance review after this and is cataloguing his errors. Oh god Big wants Chan to give him an annual performance review, wants him to sit him down and tell him all the things he needs to improve on or he’ll have to enact disciplinary proceedings –
“Focus.” Chan says mildly, and then he does the thing that no one else in this entire company would ever dream of doing; frankly only Chan has the poise and panache to carry it off without looking like an idiot.
He starts talking to the cameras.
“Look at him. Can you see how much cum he’s leaking already? He gets so terribly wet doesn’t he, almost like a girl.”
“Sir, please.” Big manages, the words forcing out of his throat. He’s standing there with two fingers in himself but only a little, only managing to tug at his rim uselessly. He tries to rock back to get them deeper and flushes as another few little drip sounds follow the motion. Some of his cum lands on his own foot, the rest of it forming a little puddle on the floor. Chan’s shiny brown shoes are only a foot away. Big imagines coming on his shoes and Chan making him lick them clean.
“Keep going.” Chan says, but he’s reaching down to unbuckle his belt and oh thank god, thank fuck, Big shoves his fingertips in as far as they’ll reach, his arm at an awkward angle and cum still dribbling from his slit, his eyes fixed on where Chan is slowly – so fucking slowly, this is killing him – undoing the fastenings on his trousers and reaching in – silk boxers, navy, Big wants to be gagged with them – and pulling out –
A little whine makes its way out of Big’s throat and he works his fingertips inside his hole, like some pale imitation of what’s coming. Chan is…Chan isn’t very long, maybe only three or four inches. But he’s so thick. He’s the width of Big’s clenched fist, fat all the way down, and Big knows that he feels even more solid when he’s inside.
Chan strokes himself, once, twice, and then he beckons Big over. But then he stops him with an upheld finger when Big is only a step away, trembling with the need to touch. He feels even more naked than he is, if that’s possible, like every inch of his skin can be seen by anyone, with Chan sitting there still in his impeccable suit casually stroking that enormously fat cock.
“Turn around. Let me check you’ve done a good job.” Chan says, and Big feels dizzy with the humiliation, his cheeks so hot they feel almost sore, as he turns and lets Chan hold one of his cheeks open to inspect his hole.
“Bend a little more. Let everyone get a good look,” he’s told, so he does, his eyes staring down at the sticky cum-dribbled floor as he hears the scuffing noises of the camera crew moving around him, zooming in on where Chan’s fingers are holding him pried open and on display.
“Looks good doesn’t it?” he hears Chan murmur, confiding and chatty to one of the cameras. The fingers shift a little, holding him open more, showing off where Big knows he’s shaved and pink and pretty and smeared messily with all the lube he could manage. There’s the slick sound of Chan slowly stroking himself as he talks and it makes Big clench up, makes Chan chuckle and the whirring noise of a camera zooming in.
“He’s gotten so good at this. Shall we give him his reward?” Chan’s voice murmurs, and then Big nearly falls when the hand abruptly disappears. He straightens up but waits to be told before he turns around.
“You’re being perfect for me.” Chan says, smiling warmly up at him, and then he gestures to his lap and Big doesn’t hesitate for a second.
Chan chuckles again as Big clambers on, feeling awkward and self-conscious as he tries to get his knees settled either side of Chan’s hips. The suit fabric is soft against his skin but Big just holds himself perched awkwardly above Chan’s body, not daring to put his hands anywhere in case his palms get sweaty.
“He’s always so frantic for cock.” Chan remarks to the cameras. One of them has settled near his suited shoulder and Big knows it’s to get a good full-body shot of Big riding him, but it makes him think of a crow or a raven perched there, watching him with beady eyes.
Stupid. Stupid stupid. He let himself get distracted, which means when the clamp latches on to his right nipple his entire body arches with it, a little broken sound coming from his chest. Oh fuck he wasn't ready for that, wasn't prepared, it feels so good and so hurting and he can only shiver a little when Chan lifts an eyebrow again, waits for his jerky nod, and then attaches the other one. Even better than the clamps is how approving his face is when he looks over Big's chest, at the pretty little silver bits dangling down. Big feels the heat of that gaze all over himself and is lost in how good it feels until Chan’s next question snaps him back to himself.
“Have you been good enough to deserve this?” he taps the shiny slick head of his cock against Big’s hole and Big nods frantically, the clamps on his chest shimmying too. His voice comes out high and a bit pleading when he finally clears his throat enough to speak.
“Yes, please…” he feels so helpless like this, naked and dribbling cum on Chan’s lap. Ohhhhh, oh, oh no, some of it got on Chan’s shirt. Big stares down at the little stain and doesn't know what to do. A firm hand grips his chin.
“Hey now. Don’t worry about my suit. I like you like this, understand?” Chan’s mouth quirks when Big nods and a bit of calm settles in his chest. Chan looks fond. That’s good. “I very much like you like this. All naked and needy. Are you going to ride my cock like a good boy?” He smiles again when Big nods and strokes a thumb over his chin, reassuring.
“Get on with it then, there’s a good lad.”
It takes Big about five minutes to get all the way down. Five long, excruciating minutes of slowly rocking on the cock that Chan patiently holds steady for him, barely able to breathe with the strain of it, feeling himself getting forced open wider and wider, his hole already feeling stuffed full when Chan’s barely even an inch inside. There’s cum dribbling down Big’s own stiff little cock the entire time and he’s embarrassed beyond belief by the noises he can hear himself making, that he can’t stop himself from making, little snivelling whimpers and hiccupping sounds and each one, every single one, makes Chan’s cock blurt a little gob of cum out inside him, till Big’s full of slippery cum as much as cock.
“Please –” Big pleads frantically when he’s got about three inches of length and a fist’s worth of width stuffed up inside him. “Please, just – please, sir, help – help me take it, make me - ”
“No.” Chan says firmly, and without the slightest shred of mercy. He has one hand tucked behind his head and the other at the base of his cock, his knuckles only just brushing Big’s skin. “You need to learn to do this on your own. I can drag any boy up and down on my cock – you want to be special, don’t you? You want to show me you can take it all on your own?”
The whining sound that Big makes is worse than anything he’s made before and he nearly bites his tongue clamping his jaw shut to stop it getting out. He does want that, desperately, wants to be the best boy that Chan’s ever had and he’s gonna, he can, he can do this…
He gets the last inch in with frantic little jerks, rocking himself downward and panting like a dog the whole way and then he just sits there, with what feels like an entire fucking pillar up his arse, and sways like a leaf in the breeze. He can taste it in his throat.
“Best boy,” Chan says, and fucks him.
It’s just a sharp snap up of his hips, barely enough to shift him really with how tight he’s already crammed inside, but even just that miniscule extra bit of cock feels like it’s enough to rearrange Big’s guts, to force his arsehole open even more in a way it’s definitely not supposed to. Big forgets about sweaty hands, forgets about nice suits, forgets about everything except flinging his arms around Chan’s neck on instinct and wailing for his fucking life as Chan just laughs and gives him another few good hard thrusts. And then he stops and Big just sits there, too stuffed full to even slump over and breathing as deep as he dares when even that small motion makes him shift on the lamppost splitting him in two.
His skin’s still prickling hot all over with embarrassment, every movement is an effort, he’s so turned on he can barely breath with it and he wouldn’t change a thing. Big knows, he knows what he looks like on camera right now, sitting on his – on Chan’s lap, naked and dripping with lube and sweat, his rim probably stretched to its limit around Chan’s fat cock, his own still pulsing little driblets of cum. He knows what the comments underneath their video are going to say. Knows, and agrees with every single thing.
Beneath him Chan looks almost completely composed. The first time they did this Big had felt weirdly disheartened, barely able to believe the other man was even aroused. He’s learnt to spot the signs now. There’s a thin line of sweat at Chan’s hairline, a slight shine to his eyes and he’s breathing deep and slow, tension held tight down from his shoulders to the thighs that are firm and hard beneath Big’s. And the cock inside him is still hard – achingly, painfully hard, so much that Big’s going to struggle to sit comfortably for a day or so, so much that every tiny motion makes it grind into his prostate and he has to bite his lip not to shout his head off.
“Isn’t he magnificent?” Chan asks the closest camera, sounding fond and proud, and Big rocks on the cock inside him instinctively, flushing from the praise, wanting them all to see what Chan sees. Chan’s fondling his cock almost idly, not trying to get him off just enjoying how desperate and wet Big is in his hands. “Gorgeous. I was going to put the ring on you again but you don't need it do you? You won't come till I say. This pretty cock won't do anything till I tell it to. Even if it is making a little mess. Such a dirty boy, hmm? My dirty boy.”
“Yours.” Big gets out. It sounds like a whine. He desperately wants to hide his face in Chan’s neck but he knows Chan wouldn’t want him to do that, likes it when he stays upright and on display so Time and the others can get their clear shots. They’re professionals. The cameras are what matter.
But instead Chan huffs a little breath at Big’s words and the cock inside him jumps – Big yelps and then stifles a sob, embarrassed, a hair’s breadth away from begging – and then Chan’s gathering him up in his arms, nestling Big close.
“My good sweet boy. Are you going to say it again? Are you going to call me what you did, the very first time?”
Big shakes his head frantically. No. No way. He refuses to think about the word that he said the first time they fucked, Chan casually holding him down with one hand whilst he ploughed him into the bed, Big with tears running down his face and going out of his mind. He doesn’t even think his mouth could form the word again and Chan hasn’t tried to force it out of him, those other five times. But now he’s staring at Big with glittering eyes and crushing him closer with arms of steel.
“No? Are you sure? How about this – I won’t put a hand on you again until you say it.” And then he does just that, letting Big go and sitting back, spreading both his arms out along the back of the couch. Big feels cool air whoosh over his skin and is reminded all over again that he’s sitting stark naked with a cock up his arse, perched on Chan’s lap with at least three cameras – and who knows, Time is always talking excitedly about getting a drone – zoomed in on his private bits. Namely his cock, which is so hard it’s bobbing against his stomach, his foreskin smeared with cum and the little pink head underneath peeking through, desperate to cum.
Big knows what he’s supposed to do now, knows he’s supposed to put on a show, so he starts up a slow rock on Chan’s cock, his breath hitching at the stretch, and slides a hand down so he can jerk himself off till he cums.
And then Chan slaps his hand away.
“No. You can’t touch yourself either. And put some effort into it, fuck yourself properly.” He smiles when Big stares at him, totally lost, and his voice is deep and warm and fucking paternal. “Don’t you want to make me proud?”
“Oh, fuck you - ” Big’s voice cracks before he can even get the words out and he’s moving, forcing his thighs to work at lifting himself up and slamming back down and oh fucking christ on a pogo stick it’s like a firework going off inside his arse, he can’t help the little sobbing sounds working their way out of his chest. He’s wobbling all over the place, his thighs already cramping from the strain and having to be so careful not to let Chan slip out because the thought of trying to get him back inside without either of them using their hands makes Big want to cry properly for real. But he doesn’t need to lift up far, just an inch or so and then he lets himself flop back down and even that little amount makes his rim pulse with sensation, sends the entire rock hard head of Chan’s cock thudding against the spot inside him and makes his own cock drool all over them both.
“Good, good, sweet boy,” Chan grits out, his hands making fists against the leather of the couch, and Big leans back on his hands so the whole long line of himself is on display and the silver drops on his chest are swinging in time and then fucks his arse down hard, sobbing and breathless and needing to cum right this second.
And he fucking can’t.
He can cum untouched, he’s done it before, he knows he can but he just fucking can’t, it’s like there’s a wall inside him and all the pleasure washing through him is crashing up against it but can’t get through. His head feels heavy and feverish and Big has to close his eyes so he can’t see the cameras, doesn’t want to see the reflection of himself all messy and desperate in the black shining lens.
“Come on darling boy.” Chan’s voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away and Big struggles to open his eyes again to see him. “You’re doing so well, you’re so gorgeous –” the words cut off abruptly as a muscle jumps in Chan’s jaw and Big has to blink, distracted for a second from the cock spreading him open, at the suddenly obvious picture in front of him, that Chan is struggling not to cum.
It takes several breathless flailing attempts but Big manages to tip himself forward again, looping an arm around Chan’s neck and crashing their chests together. Chan doesn’t tell him off, doesn’t even give him a disapproving look, just groans softly into Big’s ear, his hips pushing up the tiniest bit and Big could float away on the tide of happiness that washes through him. Followed equally quickly by overwhelming lust.
“Please,” he begs, because Chan’s the most disciplined man he’s ever met, probably the most disciplined man on the entire fucking planet and his arms haven’t moved an inch, still spread out along the back of the couch. "Please, please oh fuck I need to cum, please, please…”
He drops his head, sweat dripping off the ends of his hair to land on the shoulder of Chan’s expensive suit, and noses blearily along the edge of that stubbled jaw, feeling dizzy all over again at the deep musky smell of his cologne.
“Please, please, daddy.”
“Oh, you sweet boy.” Chan groans out, and then there’s a hand sliding underneath Big’s arse to help take his weight – lifting him easily up and down with a single arm, the bicep twice the size of Big’s – and the other grabbing his jaw to turn him into a deep messy kiss.
And then Chan moves that hand down to grip at Big’s hip so he can control him entirely, and starts to fuck him in earnest.
It’s brutal and rough and painful and Big has never been so hard in his life, his rim sore and throbbing around the thickness of the cock battering him. Chan’s moving him entirely like Big’s body is nothing but a nice tight place for him to fuck into, his gaze roaming approvingly over Big’s stomach wet with his own come, down to the sight of his own hands digging into Big’s skin. Big can’t even make words anymore from how hard he’s being fucked and even with the size of the cock inside him he's still clenching down helplessly, desperately, his stomach tight and the heat building, building –
“Touch yourself,” growls Chan in his ear and Big does and it doesn’t take more than a single jerk before he’s cuming, a whole torrent of cum spurting out wet and thick over his fist and stomach and dribbling back down to his thighs and mixing in with the lube and sweat smeared between his skin and Chan’s. Chan fucks him ruthlessly until Big is sobbing with it and his cock’s finally stopped jerking and then he slows, a little, so he can shift down and curl his hips so Big’s cradled properly, and bring him to rest with the whole thick mass of Chan’s cock nestled snugly inside.
“Ask me for it,” he says, and Big sniffles, tears hot and wet on his face and his voice a croak.
“Please daddy, cum inside me.”
Chan doesn’t make any noise when he comes, just lets out a long slow exhale and lets his head tip back against the sofa but Big feels it, the cock swelling even bigger inside him so that he whines pathetically and then shudders at the wet full feeling that follows, Chan coming so much that it immediately starts trying to ooze out. It seems like Chan can feel it too, from the way he nudges his hips up, eyes gleaming in satisfaction.
“Ah, you love being daddy’s messy little boy don’t you. Never happy unless you’ve got a belly full of my cum.”
“No sir.” Big whispers, and then quickly corrects himself before Chan can frown. “No daddy.”
Chan tugs him in close to cradle him against his chest and Big lets himself be held. He feels a little bit like someone smashed him with a hammer and then put him back together again, except half the pieces are still facing downwards. He can’t believe he said – he called Chan – fuck. Fuck. The shame butts heads with the horny inside him and Big isn’t sure which one he wants to win. Heck by this point he’s not even sure they’re different things.
“Ease off when you’re ready.” Chan says to him softly, and Big gives himself another minute of cuddle time before he carefully shifts his hips up and Chan eases himself out of him. He can feel himself gaping in the air and then the feel of cum oozing out of his hole. Chan rubs a finger over him thoughtfully. “All wet and used. Perfect.”
There’s more scuffling sounds from behind them but Big’s too busy hiding his face in Chan’s shoulder to see.
“How was that?”
“Amazing, as always. Mind if we get a couple of close ups?”
“Certainly, as long as you don’t disturb him.”
So they’re still filming then, although towards the tail end when half of it will be edited out. Big lets himself relax a little. They’re done. And they did a good job. A professional job.
A large hand combs itself through his hair.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.” Big replies. “Green.”
“I’ll get you some water and a cover-up momentarily. Tell me at once if you get too cold or you feel bad in any way.” Chan orders, the same way he always does, and Big lets himself flop down a little more. He’s barely aware of Tay telling him to clench and then to push and does so automatically, his body knowing the drill. But then they have to shift for a second and he glances down and sees –
“Oh no.”
Chan’s shirt is…is…
“Hm.” Chan says. “That might not be salvageable.”
It’s sticky with Big’s cum, smeared with little white gobs of it all over Chan’s stomach. Big feels his face flaming red all over again and it’s only Chan’s deep chuckle that stops him from flinging himself off the set to sprint to the changing room. Then he’s being moved abruptly and it takes him a second to realise that Chan’s stripping off his shirt so he’s in nothing but a white undershirt and strong bare arms, the muscles ripping under the skin and…
“Here.” Chan hands him the shirt, the sticky side presented first, and Big takes it even as he looks from him to it in confusion. Chan smiles, his eyes very, very dark.
“Suck it clean for me, there’s a good boy.”
Oh.
Fuck.
The cameras aren’t rolling anymore. He can see Time puttering away out of the corner of his eye, Tay leaning over one of the monitors to review the footage, lips pursed that means he's pleased. No one's paying them any attention, so this isn’t Chan being a professional for the cameras, this is just…
Just for him.
Slowly, so slowly, Big leans forward and puts his mouth on the shirt. For a second all he can taste is cotton fibre but then there’s the tang of his own cum, salty and odd, and he carefully sucks it all out of the material. Chan watches him absolutely silently as he works his way along the bottom of the shirt till it’s as clean as he can make it, and then just as carefully he drops a kiss on Big’s sore, cum-filled mouth.
“Good boy.”
In a minute he’ll pick Big up and carry him to the showers and take off the clamps whilst saying nice sweet things, and normally after that he helps Big dress – it’s hard to, well, bend and walk and stand after a cock that big – and then he’ll call him an uber home before going back to review notes with Tay and Big won’t hear anything else until a courtesy checking-in text that night and one the next morning and then nothing until the next time Tay calls them both in.
This time, he thinks, after the shower and dressing, he might see if Chan wants to share an uber with him. He smiles, and returns the kiss.
“Thank you daddy.”