i was in the mood for het kimchay so i wrote it. sorry for being me.
this takes place instead of the couch scene in ep 10. idk. don't think about it too much.
Kim watched Chay come to slowly. He cleared his throat, then opened his eyes, then tried to stretch his arms. Only after three full seconds did he finally seem to realize that his hands were tied. He looked around, confused, and at last she watched him notice her, the way that the very first thing his face did was go soft and affectionate.
Kim had thought for all this time that he couldn’t act at all, but the joke was on her. He might have been an even better actor than she was.
“P’Kim!” he exclaimed, wiggling and tugging at his bound wrists. “I don’t- um. I don’t really know how I ended up here. Would you mind untying me?”
"No, I’m not going to untie you.”
“What? Why- why not?”
“How do you think you got there?” Kim rolled her eyes, as frustrated with him as she was with herself. “God, I can’t believe I fell for your act. ‘P’Wik, P’Wik, pay attention to me, teach me how to play guitar, I’m an innocent angel.’ What a fucking joke. I should have known your game from the start. Did you take more in the studio? Is there a camera in here right now?”
“Phi, what-?”
Kim slapped him across the face to shut him up. He darted his tongue out to lick a little blood, from the split in his lip that one of Kim’s rings had made, and shut up.
Kim paced back and forth a few times, trying to figure out what to do with him. The dozens of Wiks on Chay’s walls stared down at her, smiling at her in that infuriating, smug way she always hated seeing in the mirror—I know something you don’t, they all seemed to be saying.
Chay sniffled, once, and then said, “Phi, I’m sorry for whatever I did. I promise I want to help, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
All this, and he was still fucking lying. Kim clenched her teeth, and held the pictures out. “I’m talking about these,” she said.
Kim knew what being a pop idol entailed, and in many ways it hadn’t been that different from her mafia princess upbringing. Every move you made was watched, every statement combed over for meaning, every slight catalogued to be paid back, tenfold, later. At least most of her fans just wanted to fuck her, and not fuck, kidnap, and kill her.
Either way there were always a few things that fell through the cracks. It was no secret that her father was still bitter about her moving out of the compound. The bodyguards he gave her to tour with were always the worst of the bunch. Sometimes they missed things that no competent Theerapanyakul bodyguard should have; case in point, the hidden camera that would have taken the photographs she was holding in her hand.
They must have been taken at one of the Chiang Mai shows on her most recent tour—she remembered the bustier she was wearing in them. In fact, it was part of the problem: that stupid bustier had allowed Chay’s hidden camera to snap two pictures of Kim frowning to herself as she tightened its laces, three pictures of her cleavage, in various states, as she bent over, adjusting the way her boobs sat, and one in which half of her areola popped out the top.
There she had been, poking around the books on Chay’s shelf while he put on some rice for breakfast, and out the photos dropped. Kim had only found those six so far, but the fact that all six were in the same place made her think that Chay had additional caches elsewhere. Kim would find them all, and the camera, too, and, if—and that was a big if—she decided to let him live, she’d slap Porchay Kittisawat with a restraining order so severe he’d have to move to Malaysia.
“I’m sorry!” Chay blurted, immediately. His face went first ashen, and then very red. “Look, Kim, I’m really sorry. I know they’re super invasive. I bought a lot of Wik photos online, and they were in it. I know I should have thrown them away immediately, but I… um.” He trailed off.
Yeah, right. “You liked them?” Kim sneered. “Is that it?”
“Y-yes.”
“Did you jerk off looking at them?”
Chay wiggled around a little, trying to tug his wrists free again. Nice try, kid, Kim thought. “Phi, could you-“
“Answer the question, Porchay.”
“Yes!” Chay yelped, and then went limp, the fight seemingly gone out of him. “Okay, fine. Yes. I’m gross and I jerked off looking at pictures of you. Is that what you wanted me to say?”
“Did you think about fucking me?”
“Yes, Phi,” Chay mumbled obediently, immediately. “O-only once or twice, I swear. You’re just so gorgeous, I couldn’t-”
“Don’t try and flatter me. I’ve heard it all before. And from people a lot hotter than you.”
“Yes, Phi.”
Kim licked her lips. Chay’s whole face was trembling, and she had no idea if it was because he was feeling contrite or because he was feeling horny. He looked like he was about to start crying. Maybe it was a little bit of both. “Well? Are you going to show me?”
“What?”
“Show me how you jerked off. What were you thinking about while you looked at those?”
“I’m a little-“
“I’ll untie you. But don’t think I won’t tie you back up if you don’t do as you’re told.”
Chay started to nibble on his bottom lip, and then winced, and stopped—he must have forgotten that it was split. “P’Kim, I don’t understand.”
“I want to watch you jerk off.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.” Kim took a step closer. “So am I untying your hands, or taking your pants off?”
“If those are my options, then my hands, I guess.”
“Shame,” Kim murmured, though she untied Chay’s hands without another word, and then stepped back, watching with folded arms as Chay hesitantly unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his knees. He rubbed himself over his underwear, dubiously, a few times, but didn’t make any move to take them off. “Those too.”
Chay pushed his briefs down with his eyes scrunched closed. Kim took a look at his dick, thought there wasn’t much to look at. She raised her eyebrows.
“So you’re a grower, and not a shower, huh?”
Chay cringed. “Yes, Phi. Sorry. Normally it’s not this difficult. I’m just… a little nervous.”
“Do you need a hand?”
Chay shook his head, but Kim ignored him. He wasn’t even touching himself—clearly he needed a little inspiration. She shook her jacket off, and let it fall to the floor.
“Between this and the kiss, you’re probably the luckiest Wik fan in the world,” she said, absently, as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. She played with the zipper on the front of her sports bra, pulling it up and down a few times—just a little bit, then almost all the way, then halfway, then just a little bit again. “No one has seen these ever. Well—besides you and all of your friends, probably. You have more photos somewhere, right? Where you get the full frontal?”
“Please, I swear I don’t. Wait, wait, Phi, what are you-”
Kim unzipped the bra all the way and let it fall to the ground before he finished speaking. Chay very obviously licked his lips, his eyes dropping to her chest, and then jerked his gaze back up at her face.
“Sorry!” he said quickly.
“Don’t be,” Kim said. She ran her hands over her chest, pushing her breasts up and together. Her nipples were becoming hard in the cool air of Chay’s bedroom, and she rolled them between her fingers. She gasped, softly, before she remembered what she was doing, and pinched down until a long groan came out. Chay’s eyes were glued to her hands, her nipples, her breasts. “You’re supposed to look at me,” she said, in a low, sultry voice. “I want you to.”
“P’Kim, you can’t do that.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Chay whimpered, but didn’t say otherwise. Kim smiled, delighted. Chay wasn’t even trying to move, to get up and touch her—which was to be expected, probably, considering that she had body-slammed him over her shoulder into unconsciousness twenty minutes prior. Well, whatever.
“Do you want to touch me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Too bad.”
Chay’s head dropped back, and he shut his eyes, groaning. His hips were rocking up into his fist, and he was nodding to himself. It didn’t look like he was having any trouble getting hard now. His hand was already making a wet, slick, precomey sound every time he passed over his foreskin.
Kim looked critically down at his dick. It looked pretty good, she thought, somewhat surprised and a bit annoyed. For some reason, she had assumed that Chay’s dick would somehow be the mirror to his twisted soul, since his cute face had shown none of it. But no—Chay’s dick seemed on the generous side of average, maybe a little thicker than she had been expecting, the head a pretty flushed brown when it poked out from in between his fingers. She wanted to put her mouth on it, she realized, disgusted with herself.
“Are you going to come?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Chay panted, nodding. “Pretty soon, yeah.”
Kim watched for his hand to move to the tip, and then grabbed the base of his dick in her hand, punishingly hard. He yelped.
“How did you get that camera in my dressing room, Porchay?”
“I told you!” Chay said, desperately. “Phi, I promise. I got them online, I’ll show you the listing, I’ll get you in touch with the seller, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“If I let you come?”
Chay started to say something, and then paused. “Is this a sex thing? No, look, I knew they were secret camera photos, and I should reported the seller right from the start. My fault. I just-” He looked down, bashfully. “I really like you, Phi. You’re really beautiful.”
Kim frowned. Chay still wasn’t responding how she expected him to. At this point, any teenage boy should be saying anything to be allowed to come. Right? She loosened her grip.
“I love you,” Chay added.
Kim dropped his dick entirely. Normally she would have come up with something to say, but all she could do right then was stare at him. Chay seemed to take her silence in stride.
“Phi, Phi, can I come now?”
“I don’t care,” Kim said, although the unfortunate truth was that she cared very much. She was glad that Chay went through with it, and she could watch him: the way his eyebrows drew together, his mouth fell open, his thighs clenched. He caught most of his come in his palm, and then, disgustingly, wiped it down the front of his t-shirt.
Chay panted, open-mouthed, a few times. “That was really hot,” he said. He smiled dopily up at her. “You should take the photos, P’Kim. But even if you don't, I'll tear them up or something. I’m sorry I have them. I love you.”
Kim licked her lips. She picked her t-shirt up off the ground, and pulled it on, leaving her bra and jacket where she had dropped them. “I’m hungry,” she said.
“Okay." Chay smiled. “Let me put on a clean shirt, and then I’ll finish making your breakfast.”
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