#slipping back into porsche pov after 16k of tay was like coming home

[daswarschonkaputt]

on the rocks sneak peek #3

damn kaputt back at it again with that wip wednesday

on the rocks | kinn/porsche/tay | wip snippet ~600 words (this one’s from chapter two)

Tay finds the bar because he’s sick of people recognising him when he’s trying to forget who he is. He finds Porsche along with it.

“Enjoying singledom?” Porsche asks, because he’s not interested in starting a fight that he has technically already won. “You wear it well.”

Tay does.

Since coming back to Yok’s, Tay’s looked—rejuvenated, not just in mood, but in appearance. It casts an unhappy shadow back on their first meeting, the realisation that Tay was so muted back then – in mood, in hair colour, in dress.

Porsche doesn’t really know how to describe Tay’s sense of style – for something that seems so deliberate and consistent, it doesn’t really fit into any of the categories of clothes Porsche is familiar with. Dubiously business casual is Porsche’s best attempt. Tay’s clothes are patently designer, feminine enough to raise eyebrows, but technically modest.

Tonight, he’s wearing a collared mesh shirt, with a skinny black tie that feeds down into a black corset that’s fastened around his torso. Porsche can’t see beyond the bar, but he’d bet his life’s earnings that Tay’s wearing heels, too. The overall effect of the outfit paired with Tay’s make-up – lips just a little too dark to be considered nude, eyes smudged with eyeliner and a hint of shadow, the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks – is something close to dominatrix goes to a board meeting.

It looks good. Tay always looks good. Porsche wants desperately to stare just as much as he knows it is a categorically bad idea.

“I’m trying,” Tay says, snapping Porsche back to his body, his hands, and the drink he’s meant to be making. “Some days I feel like I’m one lonely night away from buying an army of cats and taking up knitting.”

The image of Tay in frumpy knitwear sticks in Porsche’s mind for as long as it takes him to realise that Tay would look good, bare legs stretching out beneath an oversized sweater, at which point he forcibly halts the progress of his thoughts. “And other nights?”

Tay’s smile is impish. “I think about waxing my legs and hiring a pool boy. Functionally, the only thing separating me and all the other rich divorcees is the fact that it wasn’t legal for me to marry – so I think I deserve to enjoy some of the trappings of my station, at least.”

Porsche does not think about Tay’s legs. He drops a scoop of ice into the cocktail shaker, and jams on the lid. “And where am I in this fantasy, Khun Tay?” he asks. “Does being a rich divorcee preclude you from back alley cocktail bars?”

Tay shrugs. “It might,” he says. “But if it does, I’m sure I can find a space in my harem of pool boys for you.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Porsche says. “Before it was just one, and now it’s a harem. I see where I stand in your eyes.”

Tay’s gaze is soft, and sincere. “You’d be my favourite.”

Oh. That’s—

Porsche’s hands stutter on the cocktail shaker. He feels a flush crawl up his neck against his will. That’s—

Jom’s words resound in his head. You know it’s not kind.

It’s like a shot of cold water down his back. Porsche grasps the cocktail shaker with all his might, shaking together Tay’s drink just a little more harshly than usual.

Tay tilts his head at him. “Too far?” he asks, once Porsche has started to strain out his drink.

No. Tay never pushes Porsche too far. Even—sitting on the floor of Porsche’s living room, with a debt worth 500,000 baht hanging between them, Tay hadn’t pushed Porsche too far. But—it’s not kind.

Porsche can’t lie. He just—can’t. “No,” he says, eventually, a touch too late and a touch too quiet. He slides Tay’s drink across to him. “No, you’re good.”

Tay watches him closely for a few moments, like he doesn’t believe him. Porsche makes himself smile, even as his thoughts turn and his stomach fills with dread.

He’s—he’s going to have to do something about this, isn’t he?