They had eaten already. Godji was downstairs washing the dishes and closing up the bakery, the soft clink of ceramic against ceramic drifting up through the floorboards. The light in the bedroom was low and gold, the curtains half-drawn against the evening, and the air still carried the faint sweetness of the dinner she'd pressed on them—something warm and heavy that sat easy in Phuwin's stomach.

Pond's hand found his waist first. Just that—a palm settling against the curve of his hip through his shirt, fingers pressing in like he was checking that Phuwin was still real. Phuwin's breath caught. He looked up, and Pond was already looking at him, dark eyes half-lidded and warm.

"What," Phuwin said, and it came out softer than he meant it to.

Pond didn't answer. His other hand came up, thumb brushing the edge of Phuwin's jaw, tilting his face. The kiss, when it came, was slow at first—a question more than a claim, Pond's mouth warm and patient against his. Phuwin melted into it, his hands coming up to grip the front of Pond's shirt, the fabric bunching under his fingers.

Then Pond's hands tightened on his waist, and the kiss deepened. It wasn't gentle anymore. It was hungry, deliberate, Pond walking him backward across the bedroom floor with a purpose that made Phuwin's pulse hammer. His heel caught the bathroom threshold, and he stumbled, but Pond caught him, one arm banded across his lower back, and the soft thump of Phuwin's shoulders against the doorframe was swallowed by the kiss.

Pond reached past him, and the light flicked on—harsh and white after the dim bedroom, catching the steam that still slicked the mirror from Phuwin's earlier shower. The tile was cool under Phuwin's bare feet, the narrow room close around them, and Pond walked him backward until the counter's edge bit into the backs of his thighs.

Pond lifted him like he weighed nothing. Phuwin's hands gripped his shoulders, the sink counter cold against his bare legs, and Pond leaned in, kissing him again—harder now, deeper, his hands sliding down Phuwin's thighs. Then those hands moved to the waistband of Phuwin's pants, and the button came undone, the zipper loud in the quiet room.

Pond pulled his pants and boxers down in one motion, baring him to the cool air, and Phuwin gasped against his mouth. "Fuck," he breathed, the word half-muffled, his hands already working at the belt of Pond's jeans, the leather stiff under his fingers, the buttons stubborn.

He got them open, finally, and pulled back just enough to look at Pond—hair mussed, lips swollen, that smug little grin already tugging at his mouth. Phuwin smirked back, breathless, and said, "You said you were going to deal with me. How is that so?"

Pond's grin widened. He bit Phuwin's lower lip, sharp and quick, and kissed him again before pulling back. "I am dealing with you."

He lifted Phuwin off the counter, set him on his feet, and stepped back to strip off his shirt—the movement a slow, deliberate reveal of chest and shoulders, all that muscle shifting under warm skin. Phuwin licked his lips without meaning to, his mouth gone dry. Then he pulled his own shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor.

The bathtub was behind them, white and clean, and Pond guided him into it, Phuwin's back to the cool porcelain. The water came on, a hiss of warm spray that hit the tub floor and began to pool around their ankles. Phuwin turned and kissed Pond deeply, water beading on his shoulders, steam rising around them.

Pond's hand found his thigh, stroking up, then his ass, gripping the curve of it through the water. Phuwin held onto his shoulders and kissed him, and then Pond's hand moved between them, and Phuwin felt a finger press against his hole, slick with water, and push inside.

Phuwin moaned against his mouth, his grip tightening on Pond's shoulders. The finger moved fast, a jerky, insistent rhythm, and then a second one joined it, stretching him, and Phuwin gasped. "Fuck!"

"Only three fingers," Pond murmured, his lips against Phuwin's ear. "You need to loosen up before you end up bleeding when I actually fuck you."

"It's too much," Phuwin said, but his hips pushed back against the fingers anyway.

Pond kissed him, soft and deep, and shoved his fingers deeper. Phuwin's nails bit into his shoulders. He moaned, he gasped, his head falling back as the stretch built, and then his hands slid to the tub's edge, gripping the porcelain as it became too much. Water sprayed from his ass with each thrust of Pond's fingers, and Phuwin dropped his head to Pond's shoulder, breath ragged. "Oh shit."

Pond pulled his fingers out, slow, and rinsed them under the spray. "Since this is punishment," he said, his voice low, "I'm not using a condom."

Phuwin's eyes went wide. "What if I get pregnant or something?"

Pond's grin was sharp. "Then I'll take care of you."

Phuwin sighed, a sound that was half frustration and half surrender, and let Pond position him. He sat slowly, Pond's cock huge and hot against him, and the first push was a burn—he hadn't had sex with Pond in two weeks or more, and his body had forgotten the size of him. It felt strange, too full, and Phuwin gasped. "Pond. Fuck. Did you grow or something? God. You're so big."

Pond's hands gripped his ass, steadying him, and his other hand came up to cup Phuwin's chest, thumb brushing over his nipple. Phuwin started to move, a slow, experimental roll of his hips, and the stretch shifted into something else, something that made his breath catch. "Pond," he said, his voice shaking, "you know it's so fucking hard to ride you."

Pond smirked and kissed him. "You're doing fine."

"You're not even fully in," Phuwin said, "and it's so fucking deep."

"It's just the right size."

Phuwin gasped, his head falling back, and he leaned in to whisper against Pond's ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Do you want me to ride fast or slow?"

"Fast."

And Pond gave a huge thrust, driving himself all the way in, and Phuwin screamed. "Fuck!"

He stopped moving, sitting fully on Pond's cock, panting, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still. Then he began to move—up and down, slow at first, then faster, his hands braced on Pond's shoulders. He held back his screams and moans the best he could, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, but sounds kept escaping anyway.

Pond smirked. His hands found Phuwin's hips, and then he was turning him, guiding him around until Phuwin's chest hit the cool porcelain of the tub, his hands braced against the rim. Phuwin gasped at the shift, the new angle, the way Pond's cock settled even deeper inside him. It hurt—a good hurt, a stretch that made his eyes water—and then Pond thrust, hard and deep, one hand holding Phuwin's wrists at his lower back, the other gripping his ass cheek.

Phuwin moaned, loud and broken, his forehead pressed to the tub's edge. The water sprayed around them, warm and relentless, and Pond thrust again, and again, each one driving him deeper, until Phuwin was gasping with every stroke, his legs shaking.

Pond pushed in one final, huge thrust and held there, and Phuwin felt it—a flood of heat, a huge amount of cum filling his stomach, spilling over inside him. He gasped, his whole body clenching around the sensation, and motioned weakly for Pond to pull out. Pond did, slow, and Phuwin felt the cum flow out of his ass, warm and slick, running down his thighs.

Pond licked his lips, watching, and then leaned in and licked at Phuwin's ass, lapping up the mess. Phuwin moaned, oversensitive, his hands gripping the tub's edge. Pond turned him around, pinned his wrists above his head against the porcelain, and lowered his mouth to Phuwin's chest—sucking, licking, biting at his nipples until Phuwin's head fell back and sounds he couldn't control spilled out of him.

Later, Phuwin lay in bed, clean and warm, the sheets soft under his bare legs. He'd cleaned up when they'd continued showering, he'd dried Pond's hair with a towel, and then he'd sent Pond out of his room and down the hall to the guest room. Pond had complained the whole way, whining that he was his husband, he wanted to sleep with him, Godji knows anyway—and Phuwin had pushed him out the door with a kiss and a laugh, closing it firmly behind him.

Now the room was quiet, the light low, and Phuwin was staring at photos of him and Pond on his phone. Their faces, their laughter, the way Pond looked at him in every single one like he was the only thing in the room. He sighed and put the phone down, his fingers moving to the small wooden box on his nightstand.

He opened it and took out a necklace. He hadn't worn it since Soònào's funeral.

The chain was thin and delicate, and the pendant was a small silver letter—an S—with a picture inside, a tiny photo of Soònào and him hugging, their faces bright with laughter. He ran his thumb over it, the metal warm from his touch, and smiled. Then he put it on, the chain settling against his collarbone, the pendant resting over his heart.

He got up and crossed to the window, pushing the curtain aside. The stars were out, bright and scattered across the dark sky, and the moon hung low and full over the houses and trees. Everything was quiet. Everything was beautiful. He pressed his hand to the glass, the cool of it seeping into his palm, and his eyes filled with tears.

They fell, and he didn't wipe them away. He smiled, and his voice was barely there. "I'm so happy Pond's back in my life again." He had made so many promises. He felt like he was breaking them. He felt like he was disappointing her, and hurting Pond, and he just hoped it didn't happen again. "Oh, I love you, Soònào. So much. I'm so ready for that dance."

He smiled softly and walked away from the window, laying down on the bed. He took a deep breath, and the door creaked open.

Godji stood in the doorway, her hair loose, her apron gone, her face soft in the low light. "I know you're having trouble sleeping right now," she said. "I'm going to sleep here with you, just in case. But I could call Pond upstairs if you want."

Phuwin shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just… you know. Talking to Soònào."

Godji crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, her hand finding his. "She misses you too."

Phuwin's throat tightened. "I'm scared, Auntie. I don't want to let her go. She's one of the only people who understands me more than anything other than you. It hurts. It's still my fault. She has to talk to me through every bit of air and wind. If I hadn't said those things. If I had just talked to her nicely and held her closer to me. If I was there, maybe she could've stayed alive." His voice broke. "I have nothing to live for. Nothing. I know Soònào would treat you better than I can. I've been such a lazy, lacking, dramatic, draining whore of a nephew for you. You don't deserve any of it."

Godji's hand tightened on his. "Phuwin. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I smile every day at you because I care about you, and I love you more than anything. So don't say that. Nothing is your fault. All the blame goes to that fucking bitch of a boyfriend who sent people to kill her. It was never your fault. No one knew something like that would happen. No one. So don't say that. I love you so fucking much. So much it hurts to see you hurt in any way."

Phuwin's face crumpled. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Godji said, pulling him into her arms. Her hand ran through his hair, her other hand patting his back, and he sobbed against her shoulder, his whole body shaking. "Letting go of her is hard. I know. That's your older sister. She swore to protect you, and you swore to protect her. But she loves you no matter what."

She kissed his forehead, her eyes wet, and smiled against his skin. "I love you."

Phuwin clung to her, the necklace warm against his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself be held.