After sealing their agreement with a single word, Daotok found himself standing stiffly beside the hospital bed, uncertain of what to do next. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying his nervousness, until a warm hand tilted his chin upward.
Arthit, seated comfortably on the hospital bed, gazed at him with quiet intensity before leaning in. His lips brushed against Daotok's in a feather light kiss. The unexpected sensation made Daotok's eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. But as the warmth seeped in, he allowed his eyelids to flutter closed, surrendering to the moment.
Slowly, hesitantly, he parted his lips, a silent invitation for Arthit to deepen the kiss. The man responded instantly, his tongue sweeping in to taste and explore, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Heat coiled low in Daotok's stomach, his body instinctively inching closer until reality abruptly crashed over him. A hospital. They were still in a hospital.
With a gentle push, he broke the kiss, his breathing uneven as he wiped his mouth and glanced at Arthit. The displeasure on the other man's face was evident.
"Not here," Daotok murmured, glancing around as if someone might walk in at any moment.
Arthit's lips curled into a smirk. "Not even just a kiss?"
"It won't just be a kiss," Daotok admitted. With him, it never stopped at just that.
Arthit's smirk widened. "Just a kiss."
Daotok remained silent, pressing his lips into a firm line.
"Come up here," Arthit coaxed, patting the space beside him.
More silence.
"Hurry up, my love."
A small, unintentional pout formed on Daotok's lips before he let out a defeated sigh and climbed onto the bed. He hesitated for a moment before moving closer, resting his hands on Arthit's broad shoulders. As he leaned in, his eyes fluttered shut once more.
Their lips met again, but this time, Arthit's arms snaked around Daotok's waist, pulling him in until their bodies were flush. His breath ghosted against Daotok's cheek before his tongue slipped inside once more, coaxing and claiming. Daotok reciprocated clumsily, the sheer intensity making his pulse hammer in his ears.
A slick sound filled the air as their tongues intertwined. The fervor behind Arthit's movements grew, tilting Daotok's head back as if demanding complete surrender. The sheer force of it left him breathless. His hands trembled slightly as they clutched at Arthit's hospital gown, his body burning from the inside out.
Then, as if sensing his growing weakness, Arthit nipped at his lower lip, sucking lightly before deepening the kiss yet again. A soft moan slipped past Daotok's lips before he could stop it. Sweet... He tasted so sweet. The kiss stretched on, a seemingly endless exchange of heat and longing, until Daotok's lips felt numb. When Arthit finally pulled away, he looked utterly satisfied, his lips red and glistening. Daotok averted his gaze, hastily wiping his mouth as he tried to regain some semblance of composure.
"Can we leave the hospital now?" Arthit asked, voice still thick with desire.
Daotok frowned. "Why?"
"Because I want to do more than kiss."
His face heated instantly. "H-Hurry up and recover, then."
Arthit chuckled, winking playfully before stealing another kiss—this time, on his cheek. He trailed lower, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Daotok's neck, pressing a faint mark just beneath his jaw.
"Ow," Daotok hissed, feeling the sting.
"I'm already hard. What should I do?"
Daotok stiffened, his heart skipping a beat. "I—I don't know," he blurted, stepping down from the bed in a rush. Though he could see the reluctance in Arthit's expression, the other man let him go without protest. This was... too much. They were still in a hospital, after all. Even a simple kiss felt excessive.
"Shit," Arthit muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated. "I've waited for months, and now this nonsense happens." He ran a hand through his hair before grumbling, "Whatever, I need a shower."
At first, Daotok thought he genuinely meant to freshen up, but a second later, the realization hit him.
Oh.
His face burned anew.
Arthit smirked, catching his expression. "You're blushing this much just because I need to use the bathroom?"
"Is it just about the bathroom?"
"You know it's not."
"Uh, fine, go ahead."
Arthit let out a low laugh before disappearing inside. Meanwhile, Daotok exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples as he tried to steady his thoughts. He needed to return to his room to gather a few things. A driver, dressed sharply in black, escorted him back. It was an unusual experience, riding in a car with someone who looked like they belonged in a mafia movie, but he didn't question it. After a quick shower and some packing, he returned to the hospital.
Back in the room, Arthit was lying on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV. Daotok set his bag down on the nearby sofa, his mind briefly flashing back to a few days ago. Back then, Arthit had been the one watching over him in the hospital. Now, the roles have reversed. The only difference was... they were officially together now. He glanced at Arthit, an unfamiliar warmth settling in his chest. This man—rough around the edges, reckless, impossible—was his.
"Arthit."
"Hm?"
"Where's your phone? I texted you, but you didn't respond."
"Oh, it's gone. Those guys probably threw it away."
"Oh."
Arthit turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "And what did you just call me?"
"Arthit."
"What happened to the 'P' part? Don't tell me you've lost your respect for me."
"I'm not calling my boyfriend 'P.'"
Arthit smirked, clearly amused. "Hmm, I think we should leave the hospital. Staying here is pointless."
Daotok rolled his eyes. "Just get some rest."
"Come sleep with me."
"You can't. This is a patient's bed."
"And so what?"
"It's too narrow."
"It doesn't matter to me."
"No," Daotok said firmly, grabbing a blanket to cover him before shutting off the TV. "Just rest and recover quickly."
Arthit pouted, clearly unimpressed with his rejection. "Goodnight kiss."
Daotok hesitated before leaning in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. But before he could pull away, Arthit seized the opportunity to press another kiss against his lips, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
"I love you," Arthit murmured.
A quiet breath left Daotok's lips before he squeezed his hand gently. "I love you too."
Arthit went still for a second, his ears tinged pink. Then, he smirked.
"Hmph. When I get used to this, I'll make you say it every ten minutes."
Daotok laughed softly. "Okay, okay."
Daotok let go of Arthit's hand and moved to lie down on the large sofa.
Sleep didn't come easily, his mind wandering as he shifted to get comfortable. Eventually, exhaustion won, and he drifted off. But when he stirred awake, something felt different. Warmth enveloped him, a steady rise and fall against his back. A familiar scent surrounded him—comforting yet unexpected. His brows furrowed as he squinted against the morning light filtering through the window.
Blinking away the haze of sleep, he turned slightly, his breath hitching when he realized who was holding him. It was Arthit. The very patient who was supposed to be resting on the hospital bed. As Daotok shifted, Arthit grumbled under his breath, tightening his hold as if refusing to let go. Daotok sighed, shaking him gently.
"Go back to bed. Your wound might reopen," he murmured, glancing at the bandaged arm loosely draped around him. At least Arthit had the sense to lie on his side, avoiding pressure on the injury.
"Wake up."
A deep, sleepy hum was his only response before Arthit cracked his eyes open—and without warning—pressed a lazy kiss to Daotok's forehead.
Daotok stiffened. "Why are you up so early?"
Arthit smirked, voice still thick with sleep. "Why are you sleeping here?"
"I should be asking you that," Daotok countered, frowning.
"I got scared by a ghost last night," Arthit said without missing a beat.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Terrified. So I came to sleep with you."
Daotok scoffed. "Someone like you isn't scared of ghosts."
Arthit huffed, lips twitching into something that could've been amusement.
"Fine, but seriously, it was staring at me. Probably one of my fans."
Daotok rolled his eyes. "Want me to talk to it for you?"
"No, thanks. What if you faint again, like at the cemetery?"
"I wouldn't."
"Whatever," Arthit muttered, pulling him closer again. Daotok glanced at the clock—it was only six in the morning. "Too early. Let's sleep some more."
Daotok sighed, relenting. "Fine. Let's sleep."
Though he didn't. Not really. Instead, he lay in Arthit's arms, simply watching him. His once clean face was now marred with cuts and bruises, remnants of yesterday's fight. Without thinking, Daotok reached up, fingertips grazing the wound at the corner of Arthit's mouth before pinching his nose lightly in frustration.
You're so reckless... Always so skilled, but never cautious. He stayed in that warm embrace for nearly an hour before gently rousing Arthit again, urging him back to the hospital bed. It wouldn't do to have the nurse walk in and find them curled up together. Arthit grumbled but complied. Shortly after, breakfast and medication arrived.
"Feed me," Arthit demanded, grinning.
Daotok arched an eyebrow. "Your dominant arm isn't even injured."
"Come on, feed me. I'm your boyfriend."
Daotok sighed. "Fine."
He scooped up a spoonful of food, bringing it to Arthit's lips. The moment he chewed, his face twisted in displeasure.
"Does it taste bad?" Daotok asked.
"Yeah."
"Just deal with it."
"I want to leave the hospital already."
"Learn to be patient."
"I've been patient for a month. Isn't that enough?"
"Well, whose fault is it for getting hit in the bathroom?"
Arthit groaned. "Come on, I can't even pee without something happening to me?"
"Maybe bring a chamber pot next time."
"That's pathetic. Carrying a chamber pot because I'm afraid of being kidnapped." He chuckled, shaking his head.
The day passed with visits from friends—Easter and Hill, then Typhoon and Tonfah. They all congratulated them, teasing endlessly once they learned Daotok and Arthit were officially together. North, however, was the worst, relentless with his jokes. That night, Daotok stayed awake, determined to see if the ghost was real.
And at midnight, he saw it—a male ghost standing beside the bed, staring intently at Arthit. It didn't move. Didn't blink. It almost seemed like it wanted to climb onto the bed. Daotok hesitated before speaking, engaging the spirit in a quiet conversation. It took nearly half an hour to listen to its grievances. In the end, he explained that the hospital room no longer belonged to it, just because it had died there. Once the misunderstanding was settled, the spirit agreed to leave Arthit alone.
That night, Arthit slept soundly for the first time in days, nightmares seemingly gone. But when morning came, Daotok woke up in the exact same position—Arthit curled around him on the sofa. Again. This happened for several nights until Arthit was finally discharged. His wounds healed remarkably fast, and the scars on his face and body had faded significantly.
Direk arranged for a car, and though Arthit insisted he could drive, Daotok refused to let him. Soon, they arrived at Arthit's condo, a place he hadn't returned to in weeks. Daotok set down the bag of medicine, watching as Arthit sat on the bed.
"How's the wound?"
Arthit swung his right arm back and forth.
Daotok rushed over, grabbing his arm to stop him. "Stop that, or the wound will reopen."
"It's fine. I'm all healed."
"How do you heal so fast? Are you even human?"
"I'm a modified human. Didn't you know?"
Daotok rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get the rest of my stuff from the car."
Before he could leave, Arthit's strong arms yanked him back—straight onto his lap.
"Wait. Do you know how long I've been waiting?"
Daotok blinked. "Huh?"
"Did you forget?"
A slow realization dawned, and Daotok felt his face heat up. In the hospital, nothing had happened between them. He had been too busy taking care of Arthit and working.
Arthit's lips curved into a smirk. "I wonder how prepared you are."
Daotok swallowed hard. "I think I am."
The moment Arthit's lips crashed against Daotok's, the world around them blurred into nothingness. His lips were firm, demanding, and scorching against Daotok's softer ones, stealing his breath and leaving him dizzy. Strong hands gripped Daotok's thighs, effortlessly lifting him onto the bed, pressing their bodies flush together.
A deep, molten heat coiled between them as Arthit's tongue swept inside, claiming every inch of Daotok's mouth. The kiss was fervent—wet, hungry, desperate. Their breaths mingled, their tongues entwined, moving in a slow, sinful rhythm that sent shivers rippling down Daotok's spine. His fingers trembled as they curled around Arthit's neck, his touch hesitant yet needy.
Arthit growled low in his throat, a sound of pure hunger, before pulling back just enough to bite down on Daotok's lower lip. The sharp sting was instantly soothed by the languid sweep of his tongue. Daotok gasped, his body arching involuntarily as heat pooled in his core. The rough slide of Arthit's hands sent sparks skittering across his skin. They explored, mapped, and memorized every curve, from the dip of his waist to the trembling muscles beneath his shirt. When warm fingers slipped under the fabric and brushed over his chest, Daotok sucked in a sharp breath, his body reacting to every teasing stroke.
His shirt was tugged away, leaving his flushed skin exposed to the cool air, but the heat between them only intensified. The sight of Arthit's bare chest sent another wave of desire crashing through him. He had seen him like this before, but never under these circumstances—never with the promise of something more hanging between them, electric and inevitable.
A shudder ran through Daotok's body as Arthit pressed heated kisses along his jaw, trailing down to his throat. His lips, soft yet insistent, latched onto the sensitive skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly before tracing a path down to his collarbone. The sensation sent tingles rippling through his nerves, making his stomach tighten with anticipation.
When those lips finally descended lower—pressing a lingering kiss over his heart before closing around a hardened peak—Daotok's back arched off the bed, a breathless whimper escaping him. His body trembled as Arthit's tongue flicked and teased, alternating between slow, torturous licks and sharp nips that sent delicious jolts of pleasure straight to his core.
His breath hitched, and his fingers tangled in Arthit's dark hair, desperate, pleading. The warmth of a palm glided lower, pressing against the growing ache between his thighs. The touch was slow, deliberate, as if savoring every reaction that unraveled from him. Daotok's head fell back against the pillow, his body aflame with a longing that stole the very air from his lungs. And when Arthit's voice, deep and sinfully smooth, whispered against his skin, his entire body shivered in response.
"So sweet," Arthit murmured, his lips trailing back up to claim another bruising kiss.
Daotok had never felt this way before—like he was being worshipped, unraveled, and consumed all at once. And yet, he wanted more.
The zipper of Daotok's pants gave way under Arthit's assertive touch. A soft sound escaped Daotok's lips, a mixture of surprise and anticipation. As the fabric fell away, revealing bare skin, Daotok's body responded instantly. A hand, firm yet gentle, found his hard erection, caressing and teasing the sensitive head. A moan, involuntary and raw, escaped him. It was a foreign sensation, nobody had ever touched him like this before.
Their mouths met again, a tangle of tongues, a breathless exploration. The kiss deepened, becoming almost overwhelming. When Arthit finally broke the contact, stepping back with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Daotok was left disoriented, yearning.
"That's a good angle," Arthit murmured, a sly smile playing on his lips, a smile that sent a jolt through Daotok's heart.
Before Daotok could fully register the words, Arthit lowered his head, his mouth claiming him in a way that stole his breath. A gasp escaped, a protest swallowed by the heat that engulfed him. The sensation was intense, shocking, then undeniably pleasurable. He fought the urge to recoil, his body tensing, then slowly surrendering to the exquisite torment.
Arthit's tongue flicked, tracing his erection, teasing the tip, driving Daotok to the edge. He gripped the sheets, his body arching, the world narrowing to this single, consuming sensation. Arthit's other hand joined, stroking, kneading, driving him closer to the edge. A guttural cry tore from Daotok's throat.
The release came quickly, violently, an explosion of sensation. He shuddered, his body convulsing, a thick rush of pleasure flooding him. Shame and panic mingled with the afterglow as he realized the intimacy of the act. Arthit, unfazed, swallowed a portion of the fluid, then smeared the rest against Daotok's sensitive entrance.
A gasp escaped Daotok as Arthit's slender fingers began a slow, probing invasion. Discomfort flared, quickly escalating to a sharp, burning pain. Daotok met Arthit's gaze, seeking reassurance. A deep kiss followed, a distraction as Arthit continued his slow work, stretching and easing, coaxing Daotok's body to accept.
The pressure intensified as Arthit added a second finger, pushing deeper, until Daotok felt numb and stretched. A rhythm established itself, a slow, deliberate in-and-out, gradually increasing in pace. Pleasure began to mingle with the discomfort, a thrilling, dangerous edge. I want more.
But a sliver of control remained. "Um... that's enough," Daotok managed to whisper, the words a fragile plea.
Arthit stilled, his eyes, dark and intense, holding Daotok captive. A silent assessment passed between them, then, without a word, Arthit rose.
Daotok finally allowed himself to truly see Arthit: the tanned skin, the intricate tattoos etched across his chest and arms, the sculpted muscles honed from dedication. He was a landscape of power and beauty. Arthit shed the last of his clothing, revealing his own erection. Daotok's heart hammered against his ribs at the sight of him.
"Why are you making that face?" Arthit's voice was low, husky.
Daotok stammered, avoiding his gaze. Arthit moved onto the bed, straddling him, raining kisses down his face and neck, leaving a trail of possessive marks.
"Weren't you already prepared for this?"
"Um... I didn't prepare myself for this ."
"Why?"
"Um... Can't do it."
"Meaning?"
The air in the room hung thick with anticipation. Daotok watched Arthit, a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest. Arthit's size, now undeniably present, was far more imposing than he had imagined. A tentative touch, a brief exploration with his own fingers, had left him aching. How could he possibly accommodate Arthit?
Arthit's low growl was a warning. Daotok felt the blunt head of Arthit's erection press against his entrance, a foreign and daunting sensation. His legs parted wider, almost involuntarily. Fear, sharp and immediate, flooded his senses, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the impending invasion. His pulse hammered in his ears, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet of the room.
A frustrated sound escaped Arthit as he attempted entry. Daotok cried out, a strangled sound of pain. It was only a little, a torturous stretching, but the discomfort was intense. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He heard Arthit's ragged breathing, felt the heat radiating from his body. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes. Arthit's face was flushed, his brow furrowed with a mixture of desire and concern.
Arthit pushed further. A strangled groan ripped from Daotok's throat. Tears welled, blurring his vision. The pain was a white-hot brand searing its way through his body, reaching all the way to his shoulder blades.
"N-no... please," he choked out, the words thick with pain. "It hurts... it hurts too much."
"Just a little more," Arthit rasped, his voice tight with effort. "Almost halfway."
Then, with a final, decisive thrust, Arthit was inside. Daotok gasped, a silent scream trapped in his throat. The sensation was overwhelming, a brutal violation that threatened to tear him apart. Arthit, sensing his distress, leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, a desperate attempt to offer comfort amidst the pain.
"Tight as hell," Arthit gritted out, his voice trembling, the words vibrating against Daotok's skin. "Relax... try to relax."
"Ugh..." Daotok whimpered, the sound laced with pain. "It hurts..."
"I won't move," Arthit promised, his voice softening. "I'll stay still until you adjust."
He pressed gentle kisses to Daotok's face, a silent reassurance. Below, he remained unmoving, allowing Daotok's body to slowly adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion. Then, his hand found Daotok's own already rigid erection, stroking gently. A flicker of pleasure, unexpected and disorienting, sparked in between the pain.
"Ugh, ugh," Daotok groaned, his breath hitching in his chest.
Arthit began to move, slow and deliberate at first. Daotok clenched his teeth, bracing himself against the lingering pain, focusing on his breathing, trying to find a rhythm.
"More... ahhh," he pleaded, his voice breathless, laced with need. His fingers twisted in the sheets, seeking purchase against the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. Arthit responded with a low, guttural groan, his movements becoming more sure, more demanding. Every thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure rippling through Daotok, raw and consuming, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain.
Their bodies pressed together, damp with sweat, sliding against one another in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. The friction was maddening, each stroke igniting a deeper fire within him. Arthit thrust deeper, his hips rolling with practiced precision, drawing out every sound, every broken cry that spilled from Daotok's lips.
"Ugh... ah! Ahhh!" Daotok's voice cracked, his consciousness teetering on the edge of oblivion. His heart pounded wildly, his vision swimming as the pleasure built, coiling tight in the pit of his stomach. Through the haze, he caught a glimpse of Arthit's face—lips parted, brows drawn, his gaze dark and filled with unrelenting hunger. He was lost in it too, lost in the maddening pleasure they created together.
The initial sting had long faded, replaced by a sensation so overwhelming it sent tremors through Daotok's limbs. Arthit adjusted his angle, shifting slightly, and suddenly—
"Ahh—!" Daotok's back arched off the bed, his nails digging into Arthit's shoulders. A sharp jolt of white-hot pleasure shot through him as Arthit struck a spot that made his vision blur. His breath came in shallow pants, his body reacting instinctively, chasing the heat, the release that taunted him just out of reach.
Arthit leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Daotok's ear, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good," he murmured, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that had Daotok gasping. His hands roamed, fingers tracing over heated skin, caressing the curves of Daotok's hips before gripping them firmly, pulling him closer, deeper.
The bed creaked beneath them, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the space between their moans. Daotok writhed against him, every nerve alight, every sensation magnified. He turned his head, pressing a desperate kiss against Arthit's cheek before their lips found each other, melting into a slow, languid kiss that stole his breath.
"Mmm... ahh..." Daotok moaned into his mouth, his hands sliding up, threading into Arthit's damp hair, pulling him closer, anchoring himself to something solid amidst the storm.
Arthit pulled back slightly, his dark eyes drinking in every expression, every tremor that wracked Daotok's frame. With a smirk, he adjusted their position, lifting Daotok's hips, angling deeper—
"Ah!—" Daotok's cry shattered into fragments, his body convulsing, tightening around Arthit as pleasure crashed over him, wave after relentless wave. His release painted his stomach, the aftershocks leaving him trembling, boneless beneath his lover's relentless pace.
Arthit wasn't finished.
"Not yet," he murmured, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he flipped Daotok onto his hands and knees, guiding him effortlessly. A shiver ran through Daotok as he felt lips trailing down his spine, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his sensitive skin.
"Arthit—" His words dissolved into a moan as Arthit thrust into him once more, setting a rhythm that sent sparks dancing behind his eyes. His grip tightened on Daotok's waist, controlling the pace, drawing out the pleasure with every deep, precise stroke. Daotok collapsed onto his elbows, his body completely at Arthit's mercy, drowning in the sensations that consumed him.
Time ceased to exist. There was only this—only them, tangled together in the dark, breathless, desperate, insatiable.
"You look so beautiful like this," Arthit whispered, his voice strained, rough with desire. He shifted again, pulling Daotok upright until he straddled his lap. Their bodies fit together perfectly, skin to skin, slick and fevered. He gripped Daotok's hips, guiding him into a slow, torturous grind.
Daotok could only hold onto him, forehead pressed against his shoulder, unable to do anything but feel. Pleasure built once more, a wildfire racing through him, consuming everything in its path. His hands clawed at Arthit's back, his moans dissolving into incoherent pleas as the pressure reached its breaking point.
"Ahhh—!" His body tensed, the second release even more devastating than the first. His vision went white, his breath hitching in sharp, shallow gasps as he came apart in Arthit's arms.
Arthit followed moments after, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as he spilled deep inside, holding Daotok against him, their bodies locked together in the throes of shared ecstasy. He buried his face in the crook of Daotok's neck, pressing soft kisses to sweat-slicked skin, his breath warm and unsteady.
As the intensity ebbed, replaced by the languid afterglow, Daotok sagged against him, utterly spent. Yet, even now, Arthit's hands roamed his body, a teasing promise of more to come.
"You'll feel this happy for the rest of your life, you know," Arthit murmured against his skin, his voice laced with lazy satisfaction.
Daotok chuckled weakly, tilting his head to meet his gaze, his lips curling into a teasing smile. "Sweet talker."
Arthit smirked, brushing a strand of damp hair from Daotok's face. "Want a taste?"
Their lips met once more, a lingering, possessive kiss that spoke of everything unsaid. And in that moment, as their bodies entwined once more beneath the dim glow of the night, Daotok knew—with absolute certainty—that he belonged to this man, now and always.