Suddenly, a typical iPhone ringtone filled the air as a call came in.

"Hey man, sawadee kaa... You good? Yeah, I already sent you the email. You just need to go through them. If it's a go, then you can email it to Mr. Leo. Okay man. Thanks, I'll see you at the uni tomorrow."

He checked the time on his phone’s lock screen.

"Ugh, goodness. Quinn? You done? Your show's starting. You might want to come down here." He stood up to find the AC remote. "Okay..."

He searched around the living room. "Ah, there it is."

He picked the remote up from the dining table and pointed it toward the AC to adjust the power.

"Quinn hates the heat," he said to himself. "I'd better get the AC on before he gets down here."

Duang adjusted the settings; the familiar beep of the unit signaled it was kicking into high gear. He checked the temperature display, ensuring the room would be crisp and cool by the time Quinn made it downstairs.

With the remote back in its place, Duang settled back onto the cushion. The silence of the living room was a sharp contrast to his earlier outburst of laughter, but the anticipation of the show—and Quinn’s inevitable relief at the cool air—made the space feel much more comfortable. He glanced at his phone one last time, making a mental note of his schedule for tomorrow before tucking it away. It was time to relax.

"Hey, you," Quinn said as he came down the stairs.

"My potatooo! Come here."

Duang replied with a smile, opening his arms wide to receive his boyfriend. Quinn let out a soft laugh, melting into Duang's embrace. The cool air was an immediate relief against his skin, a sharp contrast to the humid stairwell.

"I heard you laughing all the way from upstairs," Quinn murmured, lying on his back with his head on Duang’s shoulder for a second longer than usual. "I love lying on you like this."

Duang squeezed him tight before pulling back just enough to look at him. "I love you too, baby. But your show is literally about to start. I've got the AC blasting just the way you like it, and there are some chips on the table for you as well. I wasn't sure if you would prefer a glass of juice or wine, so I brought out both."

Quinn glanced at the AC unit, the table, and then back at Duang, his expression softening. "You’re a lifesaver. Seriously, Duang, you spoil me too much." He positioned himself to sit properly on Duang's lap, looking toward the TV expectantly. "Alright, let's see. Did I miss the intro?"

"Ah, babe..." Duang moaned, almost like a whisper. Quinn didn't quite hear him; he was too busy getting comfortable on his boyfriend's lap.

"Sit properly, please. I don't want you getting me all worked up right now."

Quinn turned around with a smile, without saying a word. He tilted his head to kiss Duang's left cheek. Duang rolled his tongue over his lower lip, biting it just a little without hurting himself.

The AC brushed against their skin, but the heat between Duang's thighs was rising. Duang’s chin trailed from Quinn’s shoulder to the sensitive curve of his neck, his breath hitching slightly. He didn't just rest there; he began to trace slow, ghost-like circles with the tip of his nose against Quinn’s jawline.

"The show can wait a minute, can't it?" Duang murmured, his voice dropping into a low, sexy tone. "I mean, you could either watch this later on YouTube or Netflix."

"Duangggg???" Quinn let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering. He tilted his head back. "The show's already started, babe."

Duang's arms, still locked around Quinn's waist, began to slide upward. His left palm grazed the fabric of Quinn’s pajama shirt slowly and intentionally. He pulled Quinn back even tighter, ensuring there wasn't a single inch of space left between them.

"Duang!!!" Quinn called out.

"Shhhh baby, relax. I just want to touch you for a bit. Okay? I promise, we won't be doing much. Relax, babe." He placed his left hand under Quinn's pajama shirt, which was printed with rabbits.

"Duang? Baby, wait," Quinn insisted. "Baby, wait."

Quinn whispered, his face flushed as he turned his head to meet Duang's gaze. The playfulness was still there, bubbling beneath the surface, but it was being overtaken by a hunger that made Duang’s pupils dilate.

"Why? What's wrong?" Duang asked.

While asking why, one would think he was expecting a response, but instead, he turned Quinn's face to the right and captured his lips in a kiss that started slow and sweet.

"Turn around," Duang said softly.

"Duang..." Quinn said reluctantly. He looked like he wasn't in the mood for anything that wouldn't stop at kissing. He still had the TV remote in his right hand. As he got up to turn around, Duang stared at his rumpled pajamas and instinctively reached out his right hand to help Quinn sit on his lap.

"Duang, can we do this later?"

"Do what later? Hmm? Do what later?"

He took the remote from Quinn and tossed it onto the sofa. "Come here." He pulled him closer—chest to chest, both of them looking at each other. "What's wrong, baby? Hmm? You don't want me?"

He took Quinn's right hand and kissed it.

"It's not that, Duang. I just..."

"You just what?"

Duang’s hands migrated from Quinn's waist to his thighs, squeezing firmly. He moved his left hand to cup the back of Quinn's head, pulling him into the heat of the moment as the TV flickered unobserved in the background. He moved slowly until their lips touched. Duang kissed Quinn's lower lip slowly, his right hand holding Quinn's waist firmly.

Their kiss filled the air. The living room was quiet, smelling of sea-breeze rose air freshener.

Duang unbuttoned Quinn's shirt one button after another. He did it slowly while staring directly at him without blinking, his eyes fixed on Quinn's face, wondering how he got so lucky. He pulled him closer than ever.

"Quinn? If I wanted to make love to you right now, would you stop me?" Duang asked, lustful eyes staring at Quinn's lips.

Quinn's lips parted for about five seconds, and then he bit down on his lower lip. "No."

Filled with sexual thoughts about how bad he wanted to finger fuck his boyfriend's ass, he took Quinn's right hand and guided him toward his pajama pants.

"Touch it," he said softly but firmly.

Quinn rubbed Duang's dick through his pants—slowly but firmly. He could tell Duang was getting hard. He moved back a bit, but Duang pulled him back. "Don't do that."

"Grab it," Duang said.

Quinn did as instructed.

Duang’s gaze was heavy, his focus entirely anchored on Quinn’s face, watching every flicker of emotion—the slight widening of his eyes, the flush creeping up his neck, and the way his lips remained parted in a breathless exhale.

"Stroke it harder," Duang rasped, his voice vibrating with a raw edge that made Quinn’s pulse jump.

He didn't break eye contact as his own hand moved up and down, sliding over Quinn's, pressing it down more firmly to emphasize the rigid length beneath the fabric. The friction sent a jolt of heat straight to Duang's core.

He whispered, "Fuck!"

Duang leaned in, his forehead resting against Quinn's for a fleeting second. "You have no idea how bad I want to hear you moan right now," he whispered against Quinn’s skin. "How long I've been thinking about this today. About having you tonight."

His right hand began to migrate downward. His palm was hot through the thin material of Quinn’s pajama bottoms, mapping the curve of his hip before settling firmly at the top of his thigh. Duang’s fingers flexed, bunching the fabric.

"Look at me, baby," Duang commanded softly.

When Quinn’s eyes met his, hazy and dark with mirroring desire, Duang felt a surge of possessive heat. He didn't want to rush, but the way Quinn was holding his dick—the tentative yet firm grip—was pushing him toward a breaking point.

With a deliberate movement, Duang reached for the drawstring of his own pants with his free hand, his eyes never leaving Quinn’s. "Take your shirt off," he murmured.

He shifted slightly, guiding Quinn to adjust his ass on his lap, ensuring they were aligned in a way that left no doubt about the depth of his need. The scent of the air freshener mingled with the warm, muskier scent of their proximity.

Duang murmured against his mouth, "Quinn..."

Quinn’s hands grew bolder. He gripped Duang’s shoulders, his nails digging in slightly as Duang shifted, pulling Quinn even tighter. The friction of their bodies was driving Duang wild.

"You're so beautiful, Quinn," Duang whispered against the shell of Quinn’s ear. "Tell me you want this as much as I do."

Quinn didn't answer with words. Instead, he arched his back, pressing himself closer to the heat radiating from Duang. His head fell back to expose his throat—a silent invitation that Duang was more than happy to accept. He buried his face in the crook of Quinn's neck, leaving a trail of searing kisses that made Quinn’s fingers lace tightly into Duang’s hair.

Duang pulled back from Quinn’s neck, his eyes dark as he moved lower. He trailed a path of kisses down Quinn’s chest until he reached his goal.

When Duang’s tongue flicked across Quinn's nipple, a sharp, needy moan escaped Quinn’s lips. Duang chuckled darkly against his skin, circling it with agonizing slowness before drawing it into his mouth. Quinn’s hands flew to the back of Duang’s head, pulling him closer as he arched off the cushion.

"Duang... please," Quinn gasped, his voice breaking.

Duang moved to the other side, showing it the same rhythmic, teasing attention. He could feel Quinn trembling beneath him. The sheer vulnerability and trust in his boyfriend's reaction made Duang’s heart—and other parts of him—throb with intensity. He looked up, his chin resting on Quinn's sternum, his gaze heavy.

DING-DONG.

The sound of the doorbell sliced through the silence like a physical blow.

Both of them froze. Duang’s hands were still tucked into Quinn’s waistband; Quinn’s shirt was hanging off his shoulders, and his hair was a complete mess.

"Tell me that was the TV," Duang groaned, "Ouiiii shiaaaa!"

His forehead thumped onto Quinn's chest in pure frustration.

DING-DONG. DING-DONG.

"Duang..." Quinn whispered, his eyes wide and face bright red as he scrambled to pull his shirt back together. "Someone's at the door. It's... it's like 9 PM! Who is that?"

"Probably my friends. I asked them to meet me here for our homework."

Duang stayed facedown for a second longer, letting out a muffled, tragic scream into Quinn’s stomach before sitting up. "Ouiiii. If it's my friends, I swear I'm going to knock their heads," he muttered, his eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and lingering lust. "And I'm still hard. Ouiiii."

"I'm sorry, Quinn."