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It's tragic, really, that he thought himself capable of keeping his distance, of leaving the kid alone and moving on with his life.
In reality, barely a week passes before he's watching him from across the street, sitting in the comfortable air conditioning of his luxury car, drinking in the sight of him, knowing full well that it won't be enough.
He waits until Tonkla is alone before he climbs from the vehicle, crossing the road as he buttons his tailored blazer, without taking his eyes off of him, following him down an alleyway.
Despite his long life and enhanced senses, he's still startled when Tonkla turns suddenly, hands on his hips and an unimpressed moue souring his expression.
“Stop following me, khun,” he commands.
“I just want to talk”.
And they both know he's lying through his teeth, just as they both know he won't be able to keep those teeth to himself, because they both know he's desperate for a taste of him.
Tonkla steps back with a shake of his head, turning to leave and Nakan can't help himself, grabbing for both of Tonkla's hands, easing off when Tonkla winces at the overly aggressive grip.
“I'm not above begging, if it's you, Kla”.
Tonkla rolls his eyes incredulously, “you've never begged for a single thing in your whole life”.
And maybe he's right, but maybe Nakan has never wanted anything as badly as he wants this, and maybe it's exactly what Tonkla needs, so he drops to his knees with no preamble, still clutching Tonkla's hands, “please”.
Mouth dropping open on a silent gasp, Tonkla stutters out a series of unintelligible sounds, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief.
“Please,” Nakan repeats, softer this time, in an attempt to prove himself capable of it, to prove he has enough of a heart to satisfy Tonkla's need for affection.
“Please,” he says again, because it's easy, because he means it, “I need you,” he adds, for good measure.
Tonkla clicks his tongue, “you'd do well with someone saying no to you once in a while,” he chides.
The words should be a thousand barbs to Nakan’s heart, but the softness in Tonkla's gaze fills him with an optimistic anticipation.
“I'm sorry,” Nakan tells him, unprompted, in the hope that it will soften Tonkla even further, in the hope that he'll come home with him.
Tonkla sighs, “I don't forgive you”.
Nakan squeezes at Tonkla's hands, “then let me show you how sorry I am”.
A long pause stretches out between them, before a small nod has Nakan grinning from ear to ear. Tonkla reluctantly follows after him, their fingers laced together for as long as Nakan can keep them before they have to part ways, when Tonkla climbs into the passenger seat, Nakan holding the door open for him.
Nakan drives them to his penthouse, glad that he even managed to talk Tonkla into getting into the car with him, let alone getting him to come home with him.
When they arrive, he guides him inside, a hand to his lower back, and delights in the lack of complaint, the way he doesn't move away or shrug him off.
In the foyer, Tonkla drops his bag on the floor and kicks off his trainers, and Nakan takes off his dress shoes before leaning in, unable to keep himself from inhaling the scent of Tonkla's skin, warmed at the nape of his neck.
Tonkla turns his head, the rest of his body following soon after, “talk, you said,” he grumbles, but he still doesn't move away, still doesn't push Nakan out of his space.
Nakan glances at Tonkla's lips, watches as his tongue darts out to wet them, watches at his teeth scrape over the plump flesh as he considers Nakan.
“Can I kiss you?” Nakan suddenly asks.
Tonkla scoffs a laugh, “you're asking now? You usually take what you want”.
This close, Nakan can almost taste him, can see the way his pulse jumps under the delicate skin of his throat, can hear the way his heart pounds behind the protective cage of his ribs.
“So tell me to stop. Tell me I can't have it,” Nakan says as moves in closer, kissing the pout of Tonkla's lower lip.
He doesn't tell him anything of the sort. Nor does he refuse the kiss Nakan presses to his cheek, nor the ones to his forehead, his other cheek, or his chin.
When Nakan finally kisses his lips, it's like a starting pistol; Tonkla's hands shoot up to grab for Nakan's shoulders, their kiss turning fervent and messy, his hands rumpling creases into Nakan's silk shirt.
Stripping off their clothes, they push and pull each other to the bedroom, a dance of desperation, making up for their time apart.
Nakan can't quite believe it when he has Tonkla underneath him, skin to skin, taking something he hasn't had a taste of, something he hadn't allowed himself to even think to want.
He sinks inside of him, swallowing down his own name and the sweet moans that fall from Tonkla's lips, feeling the clench of him, the heat almost unbearable as Tonkla takes him, inch by inch.
Of all the times before, with nameless, faceless humans and vampires alike, this hardly compares. This is a revelation, and Nakan can't help but bury his face into Tonkla's throat to hide the emotion that threatens to unravel him.
After, they lie together, sated and breathless, tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, indifferent to the sticky skin and humid air, holding each other close.
Nakan sleeps better that night than he has in decades.
“You know, if you wanted me so badly, you could have just bitten me,” Tonkla teases the next day, voice a rasp of sleep, “without using all the…” he trails off, with a theatrical wave of his hand, an exaggerated impression of a magician, his face dropping when Nakan's eyes glow umber in the soft light of the morning.
“You can't just say shit like that,” Nakan says, his own voice coming out much too breathy and rough.
Tonkla pulls his lower lip between his teeth, ineffectively holding down a pleased smirk at the overt reaction, “you can, you know,” he tells him, sliding his warm palm up over Nakan's chest.
Nakan's breath catches in his throat, “you don't know what you're asking for,” he replies, warring with himself, playing at being the good guy who thinks things through, even when he can already feel his teeth sharpening against his tongue at the idea of sinking them into Tonkla's throat.
“Of course I know,” Tonkla argues, shifting closer and pressing a kiss to Nakan's lips.
Closing his eyes, Nakan can't help but breathe him in, the tantalising aroma that accompanies Tonkla's every movement, savouring the sweetness of his kiss.
“I want you to bite me,” Tonkla admits into the crook of Nakan's neck, grazing his own blunt teeth over the sensitive skin there.
Nakan gasps quietly, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Tonkla's throat, “tell me you're sure,” he demands, his breath shaking from him, a cold sweat breaking out across his body.
“Bite me,” Tonkla breathes, his eyes boring into Nakan's own, sure and sincere, “make me yours”.
And how could Nakan refuse him that?