Work Text:
It was a strange echo of that night all those months ago; Mok's back pressed against the wall, Rome crowded in close. Too close, for Mok's crumbling sanity.
That night Mok had broken his own heart, yet again, trying to live up to the duties that had been placed upon both of their shoulders.
And yet, now here they were, Mok unshackled and Rome unfettered, finally free to explore whatever this was that had been sizzling between them for longer than Mok could remember.
Mok couldn't remember not loving Rome. It had always been there, at the center of this wondrous little life that he had made for himself. The sun rose in the east; Mok had always loved and would love Kritdanai Rome Lee for his entire life.
Things had changed, as they'd grown, as he'd realized that his devotion was reciprocated, and once Rome, the mischievous little gremlin that he was, had started pushing the limits of propriety.
Mok would love and honor Rome until his very last breath.
But he couldn't deny the way his mouth ran dry every single time Rome bulldozed his way through the carefully crafted walls of professionalism that Mok had always surrounded himself with.
And Mok wanted Rome to tear them down, wanted him to pulverize them and shatter them into dust with the reverence that he had already declared in every single way except for with his words.
All things had their time though, and Mok was still clutching his letter of separation. He hadn't been a free man for more than a handful of hours and Rome wasn't fully his own man just yet. They had lived their entire lives within a certain framework and now within the span of just a couple of weeks everything had been torn apart and rebuilt. They were still both finding their footing within this new world of theirs. They didn't even know who they were as individuals in this new world, much less who they were as a unit.
And so, Mok would, as always, be the responsible one out of the two of them and make sure that they didn't rush into something that they weren't prepared for.
They had their entire lives ahead of them. They could take their time.
Rome had always been an impatient, spoiled brat though.
"Mok," Rome says, his nose just a hairsbreadth from Mok's own; Mok swears he can taste the champagne still lingering on Rome's breath. "Love of my life. Light of my heart. Song of my soul. I have been patient."
Rome rests his forehead against Mok's own, and Mok doesn't have the heart to push him away to a more respectable distance. They have been patient, haven't they? And surely it wouldn't hurt to reward them both for all of these years of restraint?
"I've waited years," Rome continues, rocking his head back and forth with his longing, "and you won’t even allow me a single kiss? A small peck? An eensy, teensy, weensy-"
Mok is grateful for the narrow hallway that they had stolen away to for this moment, seeing how it just requires him to take a single step in order to slam Rome into the opposite wall instead.
Rome hits his head hard (Mok could have prevented that; he didn't want to) and grunts low in his throat in pain, but the moment Mok seals his lips over Rome's own it turns into a moan so indecent that it immediately imprints itself into Mok's DNA and becomes something that he can't wait to hear again.
And again. And again and again and again and again.
Mok licks his way into Rome's mouth, and Rome, Kritdanai Rome Lee, spoiled and stubborn baby brother and heir to one of the most powerful syndicates in the world, had never just sat by idle when there was something that he wanted, and he wants Mok, and so he meets his tongue just as fiercely as Mok tries to devour him, his hands crumbling the soft linen of Mok's jacket as he tries to reach everywhere at once.
It’s only when his lungs are begging him to come up for air that Mok finally, reluctantly, withdraws from the sinful warmth of Rome's mouth, and even then Rome follows him, chases after him like a man starved.
They both are.
"Khun Rome," Mok says with a light hand at Rome's sternum, pushing him back slightly if only just so that they won't suffocate each other to death, no matter how tempting that idea might have seemed. But, no, that address doesn't feel quite right anymore. "Rome," he tries again, and frowns when it still doesn't quite fit.
"Krit," he says, resting his forehead against Rome's again, and oh. Yes. There it is.
Rome is still panting when he finally cracks his eyes open again, glittering in the low light of the hallway, and he's the most beautiful thing Mok has ever laid eyes on.
"Wow," he murmurs, his fingers digging into the dip of Mok's waist, and yeah. You could say that again.
Mok can't help the curve of his mouth as he reaches up to brush his thumbs against the heat spreading across Rome's cheeks. "You think you're the only one who's waited?"
"Mok," Rome says, and there's a whine to it now, digging his fingers in deeper, dragging Mok even closer.
Mok couldn't have stopped the laugh that spills out of him even if he had wanted to, steadying his stance so that they won't suddenly tip over in Rome's quest of getting as close as humanly possible. And Rome just stares up at him, something like wonder in his eyes, and Mok loves him so, so fiercely.
Then something like mischief enters those beautiful brown eyes again and it's a testament to how lost in the haze of his own satisfaction Mok is that he doesn't manage to extricate himself in time.
Because before Mok manages to even move so much as a muscle, Rome rolls his hips, hissing at the friction that it creates, and Mok almost goes insane at the heat and pressure of him even through the layers of their clothes.
"Mok," Rome breathes more than he says, maddeningly rolling his hips again, "sweetheart, baby, I-"
He dives in for yet another kiss, and Mok barely has the presence of mind to turn his face away from him. Rome isn't deterred by that though and just starts mouthing at the expanse of his cheek instead.
And god, Mok is holding on by a fucking thread.
And so he deploys the only ammunition he can think of.
"It's your brother's wedding night."
That just makes Rome smile against his cheek, but he does pull back far enough to catch the corner of Mok's eye.
"So?" he asks, revelry shining bright in his eyes. "People fuck at weddings all the time."
Then one of his hands starts travelling south from Mok's waist and Mok's mind almost completely short circuits.
Just almost, though. He was trained better than that.
"Thee and Peach were just seen leaving Thee's private bath chamber. Stumbling their way towards their bedroom."
Rome's hand immediately stops its journey and his head bangs into the wall again from the force of his recoil. Mok takes the opening that it is and turns his face back towards Rome's own, if only just to see the undiluted horror there.
"Why?" Rome demands, and the despair was plain in his previously breathless voice.
Mok just quirks an eyebrow as he stares into the disgruntled face of the love of his life. "I'm just giving you the necessary intel for you to make a sound and well-founded decision."
Rome whines at that, and there was the spoiled mafia brat that for some reason Mok adored so very much, his hands fisting into the back of Mok's shirt.
"How do you even know that?" he questions, before obviously thinking better of it, "no, never mind, stupid question."
Rome studies him from under hooded eyes for a moment. Then he whines low in his throat as he tips forward again, but this time it’s to bury his face into the crook of Mok's neck. Mok's hands immediately come up to steady his swaying frame, and he can’t stop them from rubbing soothing circles into the low of his back.
Rome, for all that he was spoiled beyond belief and an incorrigible rascal at the best of days, was still patient. He had proved that over the years. Surely he could wait a few more days?
Mok wonders when he'll stop underestimating the lengths of Rome's stubbornness.
"Hang on just a minute," Rome says as he quickly and efficiently untangles himself from Mok's embrace and space.
Mok immediately misses his warmth and presence something terribly.
Stalking with quick, clipped steps to the end of the hallway, Rome pokes his head out into the courtyard where the merriments were slowing down but still going on, and calls out, "Mork! Marn!"
His inquiry is quickly followed by the chirping answers of, "Uncle Rome!!"
Mok allows the wall behind him to take his weight again, trying to center himself and regain his breath.
They were nice kids, Khun Thee and Khun Peach's new wards. Mok has never had much experience around children, and hadn't been sure if he even liked them, as a concept, but he likes the newly adopted Lee heirs. He likes them more than he had expected.
They were polite, and lively, and Mok can easily see them growing up into responsible and reasonable individuals with just the right amount of zest for life under the guidance of their new guardians.
And with quite the right amount of mischief too, if their Uncle Rome has anything to say about it.
Mok watches Rome with them, the way he gets down to their level in order to plot whatever scheme it is he’s up to, the way he whispers conspiratorially with them, the way he lures out the children's infectious laughter. He's good with children (most likely because he still is half of one himself, a traitorous voice that still sounds so, so fond says at the back of Mok's head), and that.
That’s a fact that Mok very firmly places at the very back of his mind, to be inspected at a later date.
A much, much, much later date.
Rome stretches out a hand for Marn to high five, which she does with an unrestrained giggle that is light on the evening breeze. He then unfolds back into his full height, ruffling Mork's hair as he goes, to the boy's squirming delight. Then, with light pats to the children's backs, he sends them back into the courtyard, which they sprint into with another fit of laughter, hand in hand in order to execute whatever foray Rome has set into motion.
And he's smiling that awfully satisfied smile of his which he only ever gets when he's managed to secure exactly what he's wanted as he saunters his way back to Mok, immediately crowding his way into Mok's space again.
Mok lets him.
"What did you do?" Mok asks, hellbent on keeping his eyes on Rome's own instead of the tantalizing pinkness of his lips. Which was the result of Mok's own work.
But Rome's endless eyes it is.
Even as Rome's smile grows even wider.
"I just made sure that P'Peach and P'Kian will have their hands full with more than just themselves tonight," he murmurs as he starts nosing his way up Mok's cheek, and Mok has to work to keep his heart in check.
"It's their wedding night," Mok repeats in a vain attempt at getting back some leverage in a battle that he already knew he has lost.
Rome presses his nose into his cheek a little more firmly, pressing a quick kiss there, before he pulls back just far enough to catch Mok's eyes.
"It's their own damn fault for deciding to adopt a couple of preteens on their wedding day," he says, and Mok knows he's losing the plot with the way he can't help but agree with him.
Then Rome grabs a hold of Mok's hips again, once again pressing the heat of himself to where Mok is also helpless and wanting and Mok knows that he's lost completely.
"And are you really complaining?" Rome asks with a rasp in his voice, his eyes dark and glittering, and Mok has never been this happy to lose in his life.
"No," he answers, crashing his mouth into Rome's again, and he'll be damned if he's the only one bruised and aching come morning.