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He was smiling, for so many reasons, as the guards snipped the elastic holding his hair back and started buzzing it down for the standard prison assimilation process. Watching the silky yet manufactured lengths falling to the floor, he saw each falling lock as a shackle that had bound him.
The standard for Theerapanyakul untouchably cold beauty, as a murderous Mafia Prince. His sperm donor sitting on his chess board, thinking he was a king in charge of variously ranked underlings.
Buzz.
The rigid control from his own music industry, unable to randomly dye or buzz his locks off on a whim if the mood felt like it.
Buzz.
The Wik costume, the rigid shell that he couldn’t always break free from to nestle where he longed to flee, against Chay’s sweet and innocent self.
Buzz.
It was that last shackle, which made him smile the widest. The guards, having already drawn straws for shaving down the lone wolf, the maverick, the Theerapanyakul prince that even Korn couldn’t control...they were unnerved and sweating as the genuine smile of a madman graced his increasingly handsome face.
No, it was that last one which made Kim eager to free himself of the ties which bound him.
Korn, in his desperate attempts to control the son he both hated and favoured, thought to control him by taking his apparent ‘weakness’ hostage?
His precious, innocent and shaking lamb of an Angel had been crying and scared. He had looked cold as he had stood, bound in orange scrubs and his curly locks hacked off. His dulled eyes had wept with relief at seeing his fierce looking P’Kim, longing and fear written in every line of his body.
The only saving grace is that even the power of Korn Theerapanyakul was limited. Chay was such an Angel, that they couldn’t find anything credible to charge or keep him with, and so, being paid off by the hefty bribes from Kim’s own pockets, he had been somewhat reassured that his Angel was safe and looking forward to imminent release.
Let it not be said his father would go down without swinging for others.
Further trumped-up charges, an attempt to stop his Angel from leaving this awful place, with threats of his in-house safety now being compromised...
Kim didn’t need to be sent pictures of a bruised Chay, his locks now growing back with curls springing beautifully down his slightly maturing if wan face. He didn’t need to receive such pictures to be spurred into action but the tattooed fingers on the ruffians holding his lover certainly gave him identifying marks for which to search and kill.
Oh Angel. I’m coming. I’ll protect you forever. It won’t be long before we get out, I promise you that.
Not with the trail of breadcrumbs he had left, the timed leaks of Theerapanyakul dirty work with encryption codes known only to Kim.
The slow-working and exotic toxin he had found on his personal time during his world tours in the lush and wild corners of the world...which he had laced through Korn’s favourite whisky...to which only he held the cure, in undisclosed locations that he might give if certain biological fathers turned themselves in...
Finishing his prison assimilation process, the guards knew better than to think they could ‘guide’ him or tell him what to do. The only reason he had happily submitted to the haircut is that it was a longtime personal goal and something he wanted to share with his lover.
It would grow back quickly enough.
Kim couldn’t wait to feel Chay’s fingers slipping and sliding as he tried to grasp Kim’s head, desperate for an anchor as he tried to stop himself from floating away as Kim worshipped his body with pleasure.
Which should hopefully be very soon.
Walking to their now prime prison real estate, the converted governors wing had been hastily retrofitted with Theerapanyakul standards of comfort. Kim looked around at the comfortable trappings, amused at seeing Khun’s touch in everything.
Let it never be said that Khun would turn down any accessorizing challenge.
He made his way to the generously stocked fridge, pleased to note that all Chay’s favourites were held there. He couldn’t wait to feed his lover back to nourishment and health, concerned that his fear and ennui with the world might have been insurmountable if he couldn’t manufacture his ‘crime’ and get himself processed into prison quickly enough. In fact, it was one of the first things he wanted to do and, feeling amused as fuck, donned the apron that Khun had supplied with the ‘suite’.
Hearing the timid knock, he saw the slightly hunched figure of his soulmate, walking bemusedly through the door he had been gently pushed through.
He looked cold, shaking in his thin prison-standard clothing. He looked like he didn’t have any tears left to cry, the admittedly gentle beating he had received at Korn’s instruction thankfully now healing but it had shadowed some of the sunshinyness of his future-husband.
Unable to stop himself from teasing slightly, he stepped round from the kitchen isle, flicking his apron humorously and speaking softly to his Angel.
His strong and bare arms opened widely, he watched as Chay’s eyes widened and began to sparkle, his feet tripping over themselves as the smaller man rushed to the Phi he had been missing akin to a chopped off limb.
“Hi Honey! I’m home!” Kim teased, scrunching up Chay’s form tightly, mourning slightly for the dulled vanilla scent of the boy who was an essential piece of his soul.
Wetness and long suppressed grief wracked the thin boy, his words a mishmash of stuttering pleas, reprimands and gratitude that his P’Kim was here .
Unwilling to remove his face from Kim’s strong and muscled chest, the words were muffled but Kim was long used to translating Chay’s words from snuggled smushing sessions after they had made love.
“I’ve been so lonely Phi...I thought I was getting out...why is this happening?” he cried, rubbing his little rabbit nose between Kim’s pecs, longing to hear the elder’s strong heartbeat.
“My public defender said they threatened her...my whole future is ruined P’Kim...” he cried, pulling back slightly and then widening his eyes as he took in the strong and handsome lines of Kim’s facial structure. It had somehow seemed softer when it was hidden behind his Wik locks.
Chay reached out to brush his fingers across the silky feeling buzz, the brush thick and probably stylable in a few weeks at most.
“You look so sexy P’Kim...” Chay breathed, his sorrow momentarily abandoned as he enjoyed the feeling of Kim’s buzz. Kim smiled happily, lowering his head in receipt of the scritches Chay was offering.
“Angel...do you trust me? Do you trust that I’ll make them pay? Every tear you’ve shed, they’ll cry threefold. Every lock they shaved; I'll burn every follicle on their heads forever. And I can guarantee that you have the most shining future...you’re an Angel after all...” he kissed his promise of retribution into Chay’s now brightly shining eyes, gathering him in a bridal hold and taking him to the sanctity of a private space where he could express his love in a thousand different ways.