#unpopular tropes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kawasiki-jo · 2 years

Text

Don’ Vito

Prompt Day 2: ‘That’s my family’ + comfort

Porchay is furious and refuses to acknowledge the looks he's being given by everyone around the table. He feels Macau’s palm sweat in his hold, he knows that Macau is trying his best for him, just like he had asked him to. He soothes his boyfriend with his thumb, reassuring soft circles, until he feels Macau’s knee paste itself to his. His heart aches at the gesture.

Please drop it, my love. Don't go there. I'm used to it, it's okay.

Macau’s eyes confirm everything when he catches the younger man’s attention. And that will not fucking do.

No one gets to corrupt those beautiful coffee swirls with insecurity and vulnerability. No one.

Porchay was never one to care about what people thought of him and his life choices, in fact he had learned over the year that his brother had taken to integrate him into the Theerapanyakul family, that people will always have something to say, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

The day he had gone to visit Vegas at the hospital, under the representation of Khun - who at the time was the only person who made an effort to approach the Minor family, granted he only wanted to steal Pete back for safekeeping, but minor details like that are not as important anymore - caged in a circle of his eldest cousin's bodyguards, eyes wide at the boy who opened the private room door, is undebatably by far the best decision he’s made in his life; contrary to whatever his brother and that fucker Kim had to say.

He stands up, tall and feet planting firm. He should have known that some people would never change, should have remembered that school had never favoured his boyfriend at all. He did regret being so clouded in his love for Wik, that he had failed to look around and notice the people around him. When he had finally gotten familiar with Macau after a few visits to the hospital to ‘spy’ for Khun - on how the minor family was treating ‘his’ Pete - the boy had only laughed when Porchay’s brows had collected in confusion when he relayed that they were in fact classmates.

“It's okay, I don't expect you to remember. I missed a lot of classes and the ones I didn't I spent reading at the back.”

“You're a pathetic piece of shit and I feel sorry for how desperate you are, grappling for attention. Everyone knows you were the one who started all those rumours.”

The entire table goes silent, and Kaypa is thrown off his squabbling tangent, looking up at Porchay shocked at his tone and outburst.

None of these people knew that Porchay was no longer the silent, shy boy he was in school. None of them knew that his loose silk shirt now hid his well-trained muscles and gun. None of them knew that he would personally send to hell, any and every single person that dared to belittle or touch his man.

Ten years is a long time, after all.

It was a long enough time for him to forget how Macau would sadly smile when they had first befriended each other and Porchay would ask if he wanted to hang out with him and his friends - Macau would always decline and have an excuse ready. It had been so long, that the progress they had made together slowly started to erase the sadness. All those lonely memories that they had overridden with the affection that grew between them, all those lonely nights that they had rescinded with sleepovers and eventual cohabitation, all those lonely minutes of yearning overturned as their bodies had joined and merged as one.

Ten years was a long time. But he's now reminded. It wasn't long enough.

✨

The sound of his phone vibrating can barely be heard over the echoes of the water sloshing, it's faint but Porchay had been eagerly waiting for it so he drops the tube and pulls out the coring needle. He can put it back in again after he messages his boyfriend.

Porchay sits down near the tub, his pants wet to his kneecaps, and the material catches onto his calves in the most uncomfortable of ways. He unplugs his phone and watches the screen light up, there's a message notification from Macau asking him when he'll be back. He sends ‘late’ as a reply before he raises his phone, camera angled for a selfie but he gets distracted by the small splatter of blood near his chin. Macau would not like to see that.

The water in the tub sloshes again and some of it makes it onto him and the floor. He tsks out in disapproval.

“Stop fucking moving so much, you're making a mess.” Porchay chastises with his foot, kicking into plainting flesh, feeling the slight rearrangement of organs to make room for his boot. There's a grunt before he hears Kaypa sob again. The gag around the weeping man's mouth is soaked in blood and Porchay knows it must taste vile mixing with the hypertensive viloxazine. Kaypa begs again, his arms trashing his body around as he dangles. Porchay stands and goes to the sink, turning the water on to clean his face. He needs to look pretty and perfect for his Macau.

Once he’s sure he’s clean he takes a picture, smile beaming just the way he knows Macau would melt for, and sends it off before he goes back to his task at hand. He’s sure if he’s not home in an hour tops, Macau would be breaking down the warehouse doors to get him back to bed with him.

Porchay can’t help but smile again in anticipation.

Kaypa gets louder and Porchay’s sure he must look deranged and psychotic right now. He picked up the needle and tube, inserting them back into the puncture he had made before. The man screams into the restraints, his eyes bulging with the pain in his skull. Once Porchay feels he’s in the cavity he tapes the tube to the side of Kaypa’s head careful not to dislodge the tube like last time.

There’s the sound of the warehouse door sliding open from downstairs and Porchay halts in confusion.

“It’s just me.” Vegas’ voice carries loud throughout the vacancy before Porchay hears him climb up the stairs. He waits patiently, leaning on the tiled wall, displaying his handiwork proudly when Vegas appears near the bathroom door.

Vegas makes his way into the space, a noise of approval leaving his mouth when he inspects the tube. His hand comes up to pet the back of Porchay’s head, the younger leaning into it with a giggle. Vegas smiles and Porchay knows the elder is proud of him, it fills his heart with warmth. He loves whenever Vegas or Pete is proud of him, it makes him feel the things he used to - before, when his brother had time for him and wasn’t dancing to the silent tune of their uncle and his son.

He’s being rude, he knows. But he’s hurting and Porsche isn’t ever around to recognize the gap he’s created between the two of them. Porsche is being led on a leash, his time and efforts detailed for their mother - who at the time was slowly recovering. He’s happy for his brother, obviously. Porsche is trying to rebuild the relationship he’s lost with their mother - one that Porchay feels he would never be able to have because he was too young to remember things the way his brother did, it’s hard when he tries to force himself to feel the things he’s supposed to for the woman he calls ‘mother’, so forgive him for not trying harder - as well as whatever shambles is left of his relationship with Kinn. Porchay knows they’re both trying their best, but there's just such a lack of trust, even after all this time, that Porchay doesn’t know how his brother deals with it. Either Porsche is way too forgiving when it comes to Kinn, or he’s just sinking in deeper for no reason.

Whatever it is, Porchay will never try to understand, not after he was berated for caring and questioning, not after the day his brother yelled in his face telling him to mind his own business and deal with his own problems first. Porchay was so offended by the way Porsche referred to the new relationship he had created with the minor family, that he had walked away.

That night when Porsche had turned up outside Vegas’ apartment, demanding to speak to him, Vegas had taken the punch of Porsche’s frustration, standing firm and refusing to let Porsche drag him back into that house of bigots. Not when Korn was still alive and pulling his strings.

And even after the ‘death’ of their uncle four years ago, things never changed much. Porsche had then been scavenging after he had learned about the actual betrayal of his uncle, too busy getting their mother away from the filth that was the Theerapanyakul main family. By the time Porsche did finally have time for him, things had changed so much for Porchay for him to ever want to go back to the past. Porsche took a while to understand what he had done, he had turned up nearly every day at the new mansion that Vegas had built for their family, with the audacity to ask Porchay what changed and what was wrong.

His brother may have been slow to see how much love Vegas, Pete and Macau showered him with, but when the scene finally settled in his brother’s mind he had smiled sadly and cried into his brother’s shoulder asking him if he didn’t love him anymore.

Porchay had to reassure him quite a few times that he still did - even if it definitely seemed like he didn't - because Porsche will always be his brother and that would not change. Porchay had cried too when Porsche apologized for not noticing, not being there, for being a horrible brother when Porchay needed him the most. Porchay forgave him pretty quick, feeling bad in his own turn for not being there when Porsche needed him. At least Porchay was fortunate enough to have the three men in his life that stood by him, cared for him, and loved him as their own - one of them loving him very differently and tenderly than the other two - even when the three turned into four with the arrival of two-year-old Venice. Porsche only had Kinn, at least for the periods when he hadn’t pushed the man away with concealed mistrust. Those six years, Porchay had seen how things had roller-coastered his brother’s relationship with Kinn.

It had calmed down for a month until Porsche came begging Vegas to join him back as the Minor heir. Porchay knew Vegas did it for them, for their family. But along with the alliance came Porsche finding out that Porchay actually worked under Vegas. And boy did he throw a fit - and half the dining table. Porsche had fumed for months until Porchay had gotten fed up with the elder's tantrums and reminded him that he was the one who brought Porchay into this world. Porchay was going to get involved, be it voluntarily or coerced, whether Porsche liked it or not. It was bound to happen, and Porchay is proud and happy that Vegas let him make the decision himself.

“I’ll finish up, you head home,” Vegas says as he opens the cabinets to get all the bottles he needs, before laughing softly and continuing “Macau has been waiting for you on the couch since you left.”

Porchay would like to be the one who ends Kaypa’s miserable life, but he knows nothing he could do would ever trump Vegas’ protectiveness over them. He nods before he goes in for a hug, Vegas’ embrace is always soft and fragile as if he’s scared the other person would run away if he holds on a little too tight, but he knows Vegas is working on that too, baby steps, he’s made it quite far from where he had started and Porchay, in turn, is proud of the elder.

He sends a silent prayer for Kaypa as he pulls away to give the man one last glance. He’s probably out because of the pain, but Porchay doesn’t doubt Vegas will change the man’s faux serene soon.

He doesn’t even make it to the warehouse's main door before he hears the screams. Vegas always preferred them loud and begging for mercy, liked to hear every word clearly instead of muffled gibberish.

Porchay’s phone vibrates again once he’s in the car, it’s Porsche asking if he’s free for dinner tomorrow. He replies with a ‘yes’ and Porsche spams him with multiple stickers and gifs that he’s not going to bother looking at. Macau is waiting and he’s in a rush for cuddles.

✨

Macau pulls him flush to his chest and Porchay laughs cutely when he hears the sound of their activities making a squelching noise between them. His back is sticky, but it’s warmed in Macau’s tight embrace so he doesn't dare suggest they get cleaned up. Not yet, at least.

He’ll let Macau hold him longer, let Macau do whatever he wanted, honestly. Anything, as long as he keeps Porchay close like this. Keeps him satisfied, safe and happy. Especially with the kisses he’s leaving along Porchay’s neck, soft and wet, mapping his previously coloured trail. Bread crumbs.

“I love you.” Macau whispers as he makes his way up the other’s neck to his ear before he repeats himself. “I love you.”

And Porchay’s back is arching with the sensation of his lover’s sweet words, lips sinfully tugging at his earlobe. Macau’s hand finds his hip steading him in place, while the other glides over Porchay’s chest, feathering over his sensitive nipples.

“I love you.”

A silent moan falls from Porchay’s parted lips as Macau’s hand makes its way to pull his cheek away. The sudden contact the cool air makes with his rim has him shivering with delight, he’s begging the next second and his lover is so so very good to him.

Macau is seating himself within Porchay, once again. He’s only half hard, but he knows just what to do and how to get Porchay’s insides to dress him in tightness. He scrapes against the walls within Porchay and the other can’t stop his hand from scrambling to grab onto the arm gracing his front. Porchay’s nails dig into the flesh, not enough to break the skin, but enough to indent his quiet approval.

“Leg up, baby.” And Porchay is obeying without a second’s delay, his left tight lifting to allow Macau to slot himself between his legs, pushing deeper into Porchay and settling right on Porchay’s prostrate. Porchay knows he’s teasing him, knows he’s doing it on purpose. But he loves it, loves when Macau takes his time to unwrap him. He moans when Macau starts to slowly grind up into him.

“I love you.” It’s the firing before Macau starts to move, pulling out until it’s just the head tugging on Porchay’s rim, before slowly pushing back in. It is pure torment, but Porchay loves to feel everything. Every stroke, every tug, every beat of Macau’s pulse, as if Macau’s heart itself is beating within him. He loves it.

“’Cau, kiss.” Porchay is twisting, meeting Macau’s lips halfway as he cries out in ecstasy. Tears run down his face and neck only to have their path obstructed by Macau’s hand. The callouses feel like kisses to his cheek and neck, he loves his lover’s rough hands, especially when they run down his neck, following every curve of his chest, every dune of his abs, along the scatter of his flank freckles, through his tuff of bladed hair, and finally wrapping around his dick. It’s delicious, tasting Macau’s tongue while he’s being pumped to the rhythm of his lover’s thrust. It makes his mouth water, throat sing, and hole clench.

“Love, I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Macau has to detach their lips, choosing to hide his face in the crook of Porchay’s neck as he rushes his pace. The sudden change has Porchay jerking with a small laugh before it gets caught in his throat. Macau slowly pushes him onto his front, getting up and straddling Porchay’s spread legs. Macau pushes Porchay into the bed, flattening him past the arch of his hips, his arm digging into the side of Porchay’s hip, still pumping him while the other holds him steady above his lover.

Macau’s knees feel numb with how much pressure he’s weighing on them, but he’s close and his body is tensing. He can feel Porchay start to push back, his moans soaking into the pillow he’s clutching onto for comfort. Porchay has always been the type who can’t help but hold onto something during their lovemaking, whether it’s Macau’s body, the bedding, the pillows, anything he can get his hands on to anchor him from drifting too far. It’s the physical contact that reminds him that he’s safe and right where he wants to be, that’s what Porchay had said one day when they were at it and Porchay just wouldn’t let Macau go, even after he had filled him and they both had calmed down, Macau wasn’t complaining though, he just keeps it in mind for whenever he thinks Porchay needs the reminder to be his touch, specifically.

“Is your back hurting, love?” Macau pushes forward, being careful not to crush his lover, as he swipes his hand under Porchay’s chest to hold him close, his arm now bearing his weight. Porchay is shaking his head no, but Macau still lifts him flush to himself. The gap between Porchay and the bed suddenly bridges with ropes of Porchay’s cum, the sudden orgasm hitting without any warning and has Macau smiling into Porchay’s shoulder.

More wet kisses as Macau gently lowers Porchay back down, thrusting his last couple of times before he pulls out and cums over his previous load, his hand wrapping around his member with a concluding pump.

Porchay’s back jolts at the sudden heat and the groan that leaves his lips is enough to have Macau ducking down to nose at his neck and cheek.

“Okay, baby?” He asks first. “Was it too much?”

Porchay tries to steady his breathing, turning until he’s face to face with his tender boyfriend. His hands go up to bracket Macau’s face, bringing him down for a soft kiss until Macau’s body is pulled down onto his, pressed perfectly together with no room for extra air.

✨

“Awe, fuck. I forgot!”

Macau stops massaging Porchay’s scalp - fingers lifting mid-swirl, sudds running down his arm to tip off his elbow - at his lover’s exclamation. “What did you forget?” He questions, going back to his shampooing when Porchay makes no indication to leave.

“I forgot to tell Kaypa my catchphrase!”

Macau pauses again, looking at Porchay through the mirror, making eye contact. “You have a catchphrase? Since when?” He goes to turn on the water, spinning Porchay around to keep the soap from entering his eyes.

“Since I thought of it today.” Porchay’s arms go up and around Macau’s neck, making the other laugh as he washes out the lather. “I gave him a good talking down, you know. He cried so much when I told him about Vegas and what he’d probably do to him when he got there. God, he cried a lot. Made my head spin with the echo.” He pulls Macau in for a kiss to soothe the frown forming on his lover’s lips. Macau isn’t as comfortable with how quick he was to taking up after Vegas, initially he had voiced himself, telling Porchay that maybe he was just excited to start and not actually interested in how Vegas tortured their enemies. But soon Macau came to terms with Porchay’s kindling towards hurting anyone who came too close to his people.

Porchay would never overdo it though, not the way Vegas did. He stuck to people who were direct threats, who personally attempted to harm his family.

“So, what was it?” Macau got over it fast, moving to grab the body wash next.

“Huh?” Porchay had gotten distracted for a second as he watched Macau’s back flex as he reached for the bottle. “Oh! It was, That’s right! That’s my family, Don’t even think for one second you’re making it past tonight- Actually, on second thought, it’s too fucking long.”

Macau bursts out laughing and Porchay’s tummy fills with butterflies at the sight. God, this man is beautiful beyond compare.

“Okay, Don Vito, you freak!” Macau says as he wraps his arms around Porchay’s waist, bringing him in for a kiss. “I fucking love you, you nerd.”

Porchay smiles into his lips.

“I love you too, very much.”

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

GOD, MY HANDS HURT.