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Chay swears it was not premeditated.
They’ve been officially together for three weeks, but few have been the moments which they have only for themselves.
Sure, they still hangout at each other's places, and they go to the skate park, and to the beach, and to all the other places they’d gone before. And it’s different, of course, because Chay can hold Macau’s hand and kiss him whenever he feels like it, which is often. But things are also the same. They’re still best friends, they can still talk about things that matter, and also about the things that really don’t. They don’t have to feel scared of being silly in front of the other, because they’ve already seen the ugly and the bad and they’re ok with it.
And maybe that’s what makes it so much better.
Their relationship is so easy that Chay wonders how he could’ve ever doubted it would work.
Still, while they see each other at least a few times a week, and talk to each other all the time on the phone, they haven’t had the opportunity to actually be alone ever since it all started. Even in a place as big as the main family complex, there’s always people around. Bodyguards who follow your every movement, and Porsche, who never announces himself, and Tankhun, who just barges in whenever he pleases.
It’s a bit frustrating, even more so because they haven’t found the opportunity to come clean to their families, and so they have to enjoy every moment they get.
So, sure, he really wants to get Macau alone for once, have some uninterrupted time for themselves.
The opportunity comes when Porsche and Vegas are both away on a business trip (yes, together, for Kinn’s displeasure; the argument that followed that had been one of their worst yet). With Vegas away, Pete is too preoccupied with the minor family to pay them any mind, and Kinn is yet too afraid to assert himself over Chay, so he doesn’t interfere when Chay decides to go out, like Porsche would do.
He does take the bodyguards this time, and meets Macau at his and Porsche’s old house, like that very first time they hang out together.
He really had no second intentions, he swears. It just kinda happened.
One moment, he and Macau are battling in a running game, trying to cheat in the best way they know how ― by pushing each other out of the couch whenever one of them is in the lead. Then, Macau bends his leg in a weird angle and kicks Chay’s controller right out of his hand. It goes flying to the ground and his character immediately crashes.
Macau shouts, triumphant, as his character finishes the race in first place. Chay should be mad, or at least pretending to be annoyed, but all he can do is stare at Macau’s jubilant smile.
He’s not even conscious of what he’s doing, all he knows is that a moment later he’s pushing Macau’s controller out of his hands and pushing himself in the space it occupied, right between Macau’s arms.
There, he pauses. Macau’s surprise lasts for all but a second. He crosses his arms around Chay’s back and brings him closer, and Chay spreads his legs so he’s straddling Macau, his hands one on each side of his head, trapping him against the back of the sofa.
Macau’s next breath comes heavier than the last. His eyes follow the movement of Chay’s tongue when he licks his lips. When they kiss, there’s none of the gentleness from previous kisses, it’s wet and messy and almost frantic, their tongues meeting again and again. Chay pulls back just slightly and takes Macau’s bottom lip between his teeth. Macau hisses a breath. He presses Chay closer to him by looping one of his arms around his neck, their mouths meeting again.
Chay’s hands wander. He cannot help but want to touch Macau everywhere. His fingers slide down to Macau’s neck and trace his jaw and cheeks. He lets one hand drop to Macau’s collar, fingers finding the patch of skin of his collarbones, stretching the neck of his t-shirt in his urge to touch.
Macau’s hand that was still on his back drops down to Chay’s waist, then finds a patch of exposed skin where his t-shirt has ridden up. Chay presses himself further against him, but it’s almost impossible, as close as they already are.
Chay pulls back for a breath and blinks hard, trying to focus on Macau’s face again. Macau seems to be in a similar state of disarray. His lips are puffy and wet, and Chay wants to dip down and kiss him again, but he feels they should probably talk about it before things go anywhere else.
“D’you―” he starts, breathing hard.
“Yeah.” Macau cuts him off. They look at each other, then start giggling.
He feels like that’s enough talking for now.
Chay looks over Macau’s shoulder and to the glass doors that open into the front garden. The bodyguards are nowhere to be seen, but he doesn’t think that’s private enough. Anything suspicious and they’d probably come rushing in.
“My bedroom?” He suggests.
Macau nods eagerly. He’s blushing, but the color on his cheeks just makes him all the more beautiful. Chay smiles and stands on shaky legs, giving his hand for Macau to hold.
They make their way upstairs in a flurry of giggles and awkward limbs. Chay trips on a step and they both almost tumble to the ground when Macau tries to catch him. But finally, they make it.
Chay locks the bedroom door behind himself and takes a second just to look at Macau, standing at the foot of his bed, awkwardly fidgeting. He’s still flushed red, but his eyes don’t stray from Chay. The moment prolongs itself, and when neither of them moves, uncertain of what to do, they both burst into laughter.
It makes some of the tension go away. At least, the bad type of tension.
Chay steps closer, puts his hand back on Macau’s chest, a favorite place of his. He traces his fingers over the fabric of his t-shirt and Macau’s eyes follow his movements. “Can you take this off?” He finally says, looking down, trying to wish away the blush on his cheeks.
He’s not seeing him, but Chay can hear the cheekiness in Macau's tone when he answers. “You can do it yourself.”
Chay bites his lip, cursing internally, and still without looking at his face, grips the hem of his t-shirt. He slides it up slowly, fingers grazing Macau’s tanned skin. When it reaches his armpits Macau dutifully raises his arms, and Chay has to look at him then, when the clothing is finally out of the way.
He’d seen Macau shirtless before, that one time, and he knew he found him attractive, but it’s so very different now that he actually gets to touch. And touch he does. His fingers find Macau abs and his pecks, tracing random patterns on his skin. Macau’s breath quickens; he can feel it under his fingertips, by the way his chest expands.
Then he raises his head and looks him in the eyes.
Macau’s eyes are entirely focused on him, deep and dark and beautiful. They clash together again, teeth and tongue, and it hurts a little but Chay doesn’t care because then, it doesn’t hurt anymore, and it’s the best thing in the world to feel Macau pressed against him like this. He feels Macau’s hands trying to rid him of his t-shirt, and Chay obliges him by taking a step back, but as soon as it is off they’re back on each other, hands finding places they haven’t explored before, fingers pressing and grazing and nails scratching.
Chay is not really sure of where they’re going with this, but he doesn’t care as long as Macau doesn’t stop kissing him, touching him.
Then Macau’s hands are on his ass, squeezing ― Chay whines in the back of his throat, and nothing feels as amazing as when their erections press together, even with layers of clothing still between them.
Their kiss breaks and they just pant in each other’s mouth when Macau slides one of his tights between Chay’s and the friction is just so fucking perfect.
“Fuck,” Macau says, dropping his lips to Chay’s neck to pepper him with sloppy kisses. Chay digs his nails on Macau’s shoulder for balance, at the same time he tilts his neck back to give the other more space.
But they’re still standing and their position is awkward, so Chay walks them until they’re standing against the bed. He tries to make Macau sit down, but he’s clinging so tightly to Chay that they end up tumbling on the bed. Chay takes an elbow to the ribs and wheezes a little, Macau laughs, says “sorry”, then scoots over to the middle of the bed and beckons Chay to him.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He shuffles over to Macau, caging him in with his body, and just looks at him for a second.
Like this, half naked, spread out on Chay’s childhood bed, chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed, Chay doesn’t think there is a single person that could be more beautiful in the whole world. And he gets Macau all to himself.
A slow smile takes form on Macau’s reddened lips. His hands are still flat against the bed, but his fingers twitch as if he urges to touch. He should do it. Chay wants Macau to touch him everywhere.
“Do we―” he starts, licking his lips. “Do you want to―”
“Yes,” Chay says, even if he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. He trusts Macau.
“Can I?” Macau reaches for his jeans. Chay’s nod is way too enthusiastic, but Macau doesn’t laugh at him, instead, he undoes the button and slides the zipper down, then pushes the jeans over the curve of Chay’s ass. Chay’s breath catches in his throat when Macau’s fingers dip beneath his underwear, slow and careful. There’s a question in Macau’s eyes when Chay looks at him. He nods again.
He gasps when Macau’s fingers come around him. His touch is light, experimental, but Chay has never had another person’s hand on him like this, and it’s so fucking different from when he touches himself. So much better.
But the underwear is too restraining, and Chay wants to touch too, wants to get his fingers around Macau’s dick and make him feel good. So he pulls back, sitting on Macau’s spread legs, and works on undoing his pants. He hesitates when he gets his fingers at the edges of his underwear, but Macau is nodding even before Chay can ask, and with heat warming up his face, Chay pulls it down as well.
He can’t help but look at it. He’s seen other dicks before, but he never got to touch, never got to have this. Never wanted to, this badly. Macau is as hard as he is, still straining against his underwear, so, in a bold move, Chay pulls the fabric down to join his jeans and lets himself hover over Macau while the other boy looks at him.
Chay refuses to be embarrassed by the attention. Macau’s reaction is so obviously positive that he doesn’t even have a moment to doubt himself.
“C’mere.” Macau says, and uses his arms to bring Chay down to him. They’re touching everywhere now, and when their dicks rub together Chay can’t help the low moan that escapes him. Macau is much quieter, but Chay has no room to doubt himself, because the way he squirms beneath him and then uses his grip on Chay’s ass to bring them back together leaves no space for misunderstandings.
He’s not sure how they should do it. Doesn’t know if the position is good, or maybe if something else would work better. He doesn’t care. They have time to find out.
Chay has been longing to touch since even before he had a good look at Macau’s dick, and so he does, clumsily wrapping his hand around them both and stroking until Macau is squirming and Chay is shaking all over.
Macau tries to help, but there is not any space between their bodies, so he moves both his hands to Chay’s ass, both of them rubbing against each other with no rhythm at all, but it’s so good it doesn’t matter.
Chay is kinda amazed at himself that he’s even lasted this long. All it takes, then, to trip him over the edge, is Macau’s fingers grazing against the space between his asscheeks, and he’s coming all over Macau’s stomach and his hand.
The hand he had supporting himself gives in and he falls over Macau’s chest, panting against his neck. He’s so blissed out that it takes a good thirty seconds before Chay realizes he’s probably suffocating Macau like this.
“Have you―”
“Yeah,” Macau pants, and presses himself harder against Chay when he tries to move away. “Fuck. That was good.”
Chay laughs breathlessly. “Yeah.”
They stay like that for another minute, but then Chay’s hand starts cramping, and he feels gross and sticky, so when he tells Macau about it, the other finally lets him go. He rolls off him and onto his side, and stares at Macau, at his blissed out expression, at the curve of his lips, at his chest and then the mess they made against his stomach.
Fuck , Chay thinks.
They look at each other, and matching smiles take over their lips.
Chay doesn’t remember ever feeling this good.