His Heir Was Meant for My Sister, but the Kingpin Wanted Me novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: One Night, No Names

Phat says nothing about being the stranger's best friend's brother, and Chak takes him on the lab bench; at dawn only a black card is left.

"I'm fine, Pim," the man said into the phone. "Stop fussing. Did you eat?"

Phat stood between his knees with his heart going hard against his ribs and listened to his sister's voice, small and tinny in the speaker.

"Chak, you sound out of breath."

"I climbed some stairs," Chak said.

"Liar. Come to dinner Saturday. I have to tell you something, and your father told me something at the end too. It's time you heard it."

"Later," Chak said, and his thumb stroked once along Phat's jaw. "Go to sleep."

He hung up.

The lab hummed around them.

Phat knew the name now, and he knew the man's face from a hundred magazine covers.

Chakrit Lertsiri, the river king, the playboy of Bangkok.

His sister's best friend, the one she had never let him meet.

He should have said it.

I'm her brother.

The sentence sat in his mouth, and Chak's fingers closed around his wrist and took it away.

"One night," Chak said. "No names. You don't know me. I don't know you. Tomorrow I'm somebody else's problem."

"You're the one who's bleeding," Phat said.

"And you're the one who sewed me up." The black eyes dropped to his mouth. "Come here, nerd."

Phat went.

He didn't fight the kiss this time, and it was nothing like the first one.

It was open and rough and slow, and Chak's tongue stroked into his mouth without any hurry.

Phat's glasses were pulled off and set on the bench.

A hand dragged his lab coat off his shoulders.

Another hand got under his shirt, big and hot on his back, and pulled him in until their chests touched.

"You're shaking," Chak said against his lip.

"I'm nineteen and you're a felony."

Chak laughed, a rough sound in the dark, and bit his lower lip gently.

"Tell me to stop."

"Don't you dare."

Chak's mouth went to his throat.

He found the hollow under the ear and sucked on it until Phat's knees gave and he had to hold on to the broad shoulders.

Chak's hand dropped to the front of his jeans and cupped him through the denim.

Phat's hips jerked into the palm without any permission.

"There it is," Chak said. "Look at you. You're already hard for me."

"It's been a long night."

"It's been a long minute."

He undid the button and the zip and pushed his hand inside.

The first slow stroke of his hand on Phat's bare cock took the air out of the room.

Phat made a noise he had never made in his life, and bit it back against Chak's collarbone.

"Don't hide it." Chak squeezed once, slow, and thumbed the wet head. "Let me hear you."

Phat let him hear.

Chak worked him in long tight strokes, sure and unhurried, and watched his face the whole time.

Phat's fingers dug into the muscle of his shoulders, careful of the stitches.

When he was close, Chak stopped.

Phat made a sound of pure outrage.

"Not yet." Chak slid off the bench and turned him around and bent him over it with a hand between his shoulder blades. "I want to see you take it."

The steel was cold under Phat's palms.

Behind him, Chak yanked his jeans down to his thighs and dragged his mouth over the small of his back.

Then a thumb pressed at his hole, and Phat's whole body locked.

"Never?" Chak said, quiet.

"Not like this." His voice cracked. "Never with anyone."

The thumb stilled.

"Do you want it?"

"Yes." He pushed back against it. "I want you to, I want it now."

Chak made a low sound in his chest.

"Then stay still for me."

There was a bottle of hand cream on the shelf above the sink, and he used it.

His fingers were slick and patient, one and then two, opening Phat slowly while the other hand held his hip.

Phat gripped the edge of the bench, panting, and rocked back on them.

The stretch burned and then it turned into something that made his eyes go wide.

"Right there," he gasped. "Oh, fuck, right there."

"I know." Chak crooked his fingers and found it again. "You're so tight. You're going to feel every inch of me."

He took his fingers away, and Phat heard the zip.

The head of his cock pressed against Phat's hole, thick and hot.

"Breathe out."

Phat breathed out, and Chak pushed in.

It was a slow, deep, relentless sink, and Phat bit his own arm to keep from yelling.

When Chak was all the way in, he held there, shaking, with his forehead on Phat's spine.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You feel like a bad idea."

"Move," Phat said, hoarse.

Chak moved.

The first thrusts were long and slow, and each one went in so deep that Phat's toes left the floor.

Then Chak found a rhythm, and the bench rattled with it, and the gel reader's green light flickered over the ceiling.

One hand pinned Phat's hip.

The other slid around the front and wrapped his cock, and Chak stroked him in time with the fucking.

"Mine," Chak growled into his neck, and his teeth closed on the muscle there.

It was a real bite, a claim.

Phat came with a shout, spilling over Chak's fist and the steel, clenching so hard around him that Chak swore.

Chak followed three thrusts later, buried to the root, groaning against Phat's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long moment, shaking.

Chak pulled out carefully and wiped them both down with paper towels.

Then he sat on the bench with his back against the wall and pulled Phat down across his lap and held him.

"You're good," Chak said into his hair. "Where did a nerd learn that?"

"I'm a quick study."

They slept like that, in the dark, with the gel reader humming.

When Phat woke, grey light was in the windows.

The bench beside him was empty.

On it lay a black card with a phone number in silver ink and no name.

The door opened, and a heavy man in a black polo filled the frame.

He looked at the bench, and at Phat's open collar and the mark on his neck, and kept his face absolutely blank.

"Khun Phat," Mee said. "There's a woman downstairs asking for you. She says she's your sister."

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