Work Text:
“P’Khaotung do you want to come upstairs?”
The question is superfluous, he’s already parked in his apartment’s garage. But Khaotung doesn’t move until he asks. Khaotung’s response is to slowly amble out of the car and entirely wordlessly follow Joong to the elevators.
Joong gets to look at him in the elevator, likes how they stand nearly at height but Khaotung still somehow manages to look tiny and cute in his oversized shirt, lips pursed in thought as he plays with his sleeves, ignoring Joong.
‘Just like picking up a stray,’ Joong thinks, as Khaotung falls in step behind him on their way to his apartment. Khaotung hands Joong his bag and takes off his shoes but otherwise doesn’t move from the entryway, not until Joong has brought back his collar.
Khaotung finally looks at him when he’s fastened the buckle of the simple black leather band around his neck. He follows Joong’s movements with his eyes as Joong undresses him with slow, lingering touches. ‘Sit.’ Joong whispers in reverence when he’s done.
Khaotung drops to his knees immediately, leans into Joong when he pats his soft hair, “there, there pup. You did good today.” Khaotung whines a little in his throat then crawls on his hands and knees to follow Joong into the living room. He stops and whines, a low growl at the base of his throat, when Joong picks up his controller.
Joong drops it immediately. Khaotung might have said that he’s happy going along with whatever Joong does in his house when they do this but it’s become fairly obvious that there’s only a few activities that Khaotung finds actually relaxing.
“Come boy,” He says, “Let’s make dinner.” Khaotung follows him, still crawling across Joong’s spotless floors and climbs onto one of the dining room chairs with his knees folded and feet up on the seat. Joong only allows himself glimpses of Khaotung when he’s like this, relaxing in his house, naked as the day he was born. It’s difficult to know how much he’s allowed to stare.
But just these glimpses are - they’re already fairly rewarding. There’s an easy, lazy expression on Khaotung’s face as he watches him work. The lines of Khaotung’s biceps are sharp from the strain of holding his knees up on the chair. Joong runs his hand through Khaotung’s hair, enjoys the pleased little smile it evokes especially when he ends the gesture with gentle scratches behind his ear.
Joong brings out his tablet and sets it on the table in front of Khaotung. The FaceID unlocks the tablet for Khaotung and he immediately clicks through to the bird catching game meant for actual cats. Joong had downloaded it as a joke, fully expecting Khaotung to play one of the games meant for people, he had also made sure plentiful options would be available.
Instead, Khaotung had seemed delighted and simply too happy to play along. Even going so far as to use his nose to tap the tittering birds
Today though Khaotung sits with his head on the table, tapping the birds idly with his fingers. Khaotung is behind him when he’s at the stove. The
tap tap tap
and the chirp of the birds being captured is an assurance that Khatung is still with him, that they’re still in the moment where Khaotung is
his.
He still adds the ingredients into his stew as quickly as he can manage, dumps his store bought spice packs into it, turns the heat down so it can cook. He scrubs his hands carefully, making sure they’re clean of any ingredient that could possibly irritate Khaotung’s skin then turns around and says, “Come boy, let’s hang out on the couch.”
Khaotung startles when Joong slides his hands under his knees, the other supporting him under his shoulders, as he hoists him up into his arms bridal style, “What?” Joong says, “You have a problem with me carrying
my
dog around the house?” And if there’s a gentle flutter of a butterfly wing in his stomach as he says the word ‘my’ - well Joong doesn’t have to broadcast his every thought, does he?
Khaotung’s face changes into something more pleased, shy even, and he barks softly, barely more than a yip as he sling his hands around Joong’s neck to help support himself. Joong feels very aware of everywhere they’re touching, Khaotung’s strong muscular thighs resting on his forearms, the way his fingers absently curl into the nape of Joong’s hair, every breath that Khaotung exhales that land somewhere around his cheeks and ear, warming them up.
This sudden gesture is, of course, easily explained by the fact that the distance between his kitchen and couch is genuinely a little hard on Khaotung’s knees. But they’re close, closer than they usually have the opportunity to get and Joong idly wonders how he’s supposed to continue being less close now that he’s had this. He places Khaotung gingerly onto the sofa where Khaotung immediately ambles up onto his knees, staring up at Joong with an adorably tilted head. Joong turns on some lowkey instrumentals before sitting next to him, pulls him down until Khaotung’s head is resting on his lap.
It’s only in this moment of stillness that Joong is able to appreciate how much he enjoys this and how relaxing it is for him too, cocooned in this little play of domesticity. Khaotung looking up at him with his head cradled in his lap. Joong’s fingers tangled in Khaotung’s hair, the smell of homemade curry wafting in through the air. The comfort of home and another person’s proximity settles into his bones. Khaotung slows down time, makes everything feel more manageable just from the simple indulgence of doing this together; a pause in their lives just so that Khaotung can make his hand into a little paw and playfully swat at his nose.
Joong grabs a book before he loses his mind completely, continues to idly caress Khaotung’s hair as he reads, Khaotung nosing up into his palm on occasion. Khaotung eventually curls up on his lap, resting a cheek against his bony knee and bending his knees, so he’s laying in a more crescent shape. This, Joong will readily admit they have perfected by now; Khaotung managing to condense the entire length of his body into an alarmingly dog-like fashion, to lay across Joong’s lap.
Before he’s realized, Joong’s hand had moved onto several other body parts, subconsciously getting bolder. He starts fairly innocently, rubbing down Khaotung’s shoulders and collarbones in between playing with his hair and scratching behind his ears. At this moment though, his hand is resting against one delicate hip where his fingers run imaginary patterns on Khaotung’s skin.
And there it is again, the sound that had distracted him from his book in the first place. It’s Khaotung, he realizes, the sound is coming from Khaotung; a low whimper and hunched shoulders. When Joong finally lets his eyes wander, greedily over beautiful curves, the dip right around his tiny waist before snaking into the swell of Khaotung’s ass. Incredulously, that’s where his insolent hand rests, the tops of his fingers digging into the soft globes of his ass, his thumbs resting across the painfully accurate
beautiful
tattoo above his hip bone.
And Khaotung has let him.
And Khaotung is hard.
Suddenly, Joong realizes that he should have been better prepared for this. That there were things that they should have figured out, that it was his responsibility to do so. Joong has only ever thought about what boundaries need to be put around what he wants. But there’s more important things, like what Khaotung wants that Joong has been too timid to face.
[start flashback]
“So what - like you-” Joong curses himself for stuttering. He just finished reassuring Khaotung that he could handle whatever it was that was bothering him. He just thought it would be something, anything other than Khaotung biting his lips and saying he was horny. And every thing Khaotung has said since then has only short circuited his brain more and more until he’s sure that it’s just a pink goo leaking from his ears.
“-You want to be-uh-while you pretend to be a dog?” He finishes lamely.
The flash of irritation in Khaotung’s eyes feels like a slap on the face, “No I-”
Khaotung pauses then sighs and Joong thinks that just spiraling into a string of apologies isn’t an over-reaction to how awkward he’s made it. Khaotung is trying to share something with him and he can’t just make it about himself. Joong refrains from action until Khaotung starts speaking again. He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal but proceeds to earth shatteringly say, “I want to be taken care of and surrender myself to them. I just want to-” there’s that bite of his lips again, “submit.”
[end flashback]
Joong manhandles Khaotung until he’s straddling Joong’s thigh. Khaotung’s eyes are turned down and his arms are slung over Joong’s shoulder exactly where Joong had placed them.
“If you don’t show me what you want, how will I know?” Joong says with a cheeky little grin, “After all, it’s not like you can talk.”
Khaotung only barks but it sounds very close to a curse. Joong would laugh but Khaotung digs his fingers into his shoulder blades just then and starts rutting against his thigh.
It’s unbelievable, its incredulous almost that he could have had this months ago - the heat of Khaotung’s body, the outline of his cock, the rutting of his hips - that Khaotung was waiting for him. “You’re doing so well, pup.” Joong says and he can feel Khaotung’s shiver against him at the praise, his thrusts gaining vigor.
Joong wants so much more than this, but he wants to see this through, see Khaotung make a mess over his pants just from rutting against his leg like a rabid animal. Still he can’t help tease him, can’t help but get greedy for his sweet little whimpers when he grabs Khaotung’s ass and teases gently over his hole with a finger.
It only spurs Khaotung further and Joong can’t help kissing the reddened apple of his cheeks and the sweat gathering at his brow. Khaotung finally turns his face up to look at him and he’s surprised to find his gaze sharp and defiant, like he’s issuing a challenge. Khaotung leans in and softly licks across his lips. And it’s like his heart suddenly seizes at the way Khaotung has chosen to ask for a kiss.
Denying him isn’t even in the realm of possibility as Joong dives in after him, catching his still parted lips and slipping his tongue into them. Joong feels like a live wire, driven completely by need as he plucks at Khaotung’s collar.
“Good boy,” He whispers into their kiss, “You’re such a good boy.” Khaotung’s moans keep rising in pitch, his hold on him grows ever more desperate. Joong spreads his hand open across Khaotung’s throat, presses in very gently and Khaotung leans into the touch, a desperate sound getting caught in his throat as Joong tightens his fingers around it. Joong does know quite a bit about this, squeezing in from the side until Khaotung’s breathing becomes labored and he figures out that not enough air is coming through into his lungs. He strains against him, parts his lips to take in large gasps of air. He’s also rock hard against Joong’s thigh.
Of course he’s into it, of course the rhythm of his hips stutter, it’s Khaotung: gentle and shy, always taking care of others while forgetting himself. He is so afraid of voicing his needs that when it’s offered he goes after it with madness. And he forgets himself once more in Joong’s grip, his hands coming up to feel the clench of the tendons of Joong’s hands, his only tether to his physical body.
Khaotung comes before either of them can wonder if it's getting to be too much. Joong’s mind nearly snaps at the wet burst of heat on his thigh, Khaotung’s come seeping into the fabric of his joggers, staining it a deeper shade. Khaotung looks down at his mess with equal thrill and embarrassment. It’s nothing short of a miracle that Joong manages to keep himself from toppling right after him. But to his great relief he’s able to hold himself back from coming in his pants just from a guy using his thigh. He grabs Khaotung by the back of his neck and tucks him into the crook of his neck, “Gimme a minute. I’ll wash you soon.”
Khaotung stays where he’s placed, plucking at Joong’s shirt. This time he knows to expect it when Joong picks him up to carry him to the bathroom.
“I love taking care of my good boy.” Joong suddenly says as he’s helping Khaotung into the tub. He then turns on the water faucet letting the tub fill with hot water. Khaotung curls his toes into the water starting to pool at his feet, “But I wouldn’t mind taking care of P’Khaotung like this either.”
Khaotung looks momentarily surprised. He smiles as he takes his collar off and hands it to Joong who takes it and places it carefully next to the sink. Then he lets Joong fill the bathtub with bubbles and scrub him clean.