7
Mile is doing things he never thought he'd be doing, as the son of Kalasin. Even on days that he's not needed on set, he shows up to support Apo. He can't stay away, can't resist the magnetic pull the younger man exerts on him. And Apo unleashes a wild side in him he didn't even know he had.
Which is why their last intimate scene together is an emotional experience for Mile. He doesn't want to stop touching Apo. He has always known it would be over some day, but he wasn't ready to stop. Now Mile needs to know what it's like, for real. What is it like to go all the way with Apo? What's his size? What's he like? What does he like? How much can he take? How long can he go? What would his face look like if Mile pushed him over the edge?
But it's more than that.
Mile has never understood the mental or emotional aspect of sex. Most men don't, or couples wouldn't have so many intimacy issues.
But what he knows now, with every fibre of his being, is that he wants to get Apo in his bed, alone, with no one else around. Mile wants to tell Apo how he feels without opening his mouth, touch him like he's a god, worship the parts of him that no one else can see, give his all to satisfy him, stare into his eyes until they forget they have bodies, until they're nothing more than eyes and souls, the only souls in the world.
Their clothes fall to the bathroom floor. Mile takes in the exhilarated grins and breathy moans Apo emits when they're finally pressed flush against each other, skin-on-skin. He thinks - knows - Apo has been craving it too. He can sense the other man's excitement, the tremor under his skin, the natural betrayal of his body. There isn't an article of clothing between them. They have crossed the line into an intimacy with each other there's no going back from. Mile relishes it, but is also terrified by it. The vulnerability in Apo's eyes mirrors his own. They draw closer still, absorbing comfort from each other's skin through an osmosis of sorts.
This is uncharted territory. No other BL couple has kissed like this on television. They are sucking each other's souls out with these kisses. Not even straight couples kiss like this in front of the camera. This is going to be a cultural reset, changing all the standards going forward.
Mile is deafened by the roaring of blood in his ears, but he could swear Apo moaned his name instead of Kinn's just now.
Mile wishes he could go back and redo every intimate scene. He even entertains the thought of complaining to the directors, insisting on retakes, but knows his idea has no legs to stand on. There's nothing to complain about; each scene is beautiful. Apo might disagree. Mile was so into some of the scenes that he scratched Apo with his fingernails. He hates to admit that he loves the little red crescents in Apo's skin. He wanted Apo to feel him when he went home, and think of Mile in the shower when he saw the reminders on his body. It's a weird, possessive urge.
Then Mile sees the balcony pool. Glass sides, overlooking the city, beautifully-lit at night.
And now he has an idea that might be viable.
"That would be good for a love scene," he tells the directors. "Hear me out..." He assures them that he and Apo can conceptualize and choreograph it themselves; they've already improvised more than they've acted. Mile is a businessman; he knows how to sell an idea. Don't appear too enthusiastic; you're doing them a favour.
Apo's response is an eyebrow wiggle and a "great, I love water."
•••
"Look at you," Apo gushes, flipping through Mile's baby pictures. Blues rock music blasts throughout the apartment, their favourite. "So cute. What do you have in your mouth in this one?"
"Spicy sauce. I used to throw up what I ate so I could eat more."
"Damn, you really loved food."
"Ask my relatives. I once tried to chase them with a chopping knife for stealing my fried chicken."
Apo throws his head back and laughs heartily.
"The mafia was always inside you."
"I didn't choose the life, it chose me." Mile chuckles. "Anyways, yeah, I loved food. But I was fat and bullied for it."
"I get it. Everyone always told me I was weird, and gay, and-"
"You're not weird. You're fucking incredible. I wish everyone was like you... Only then you wouldn't be so special."
"You have to admit I'm a little weird."
"You're happy." Mile tucks a stray strand of hair behind Apo's ear. He's close enough to see the pores on Apo's nose, and seeing him like this feels like the cornerstone of true intimacy.
"I am. It's true. I've always wanted to be part of an all-male cast, kissing a man every other day, getting to go to water parks and-"
"Okay, you're weird and gay."
When the song changes, Apo puts the Frank Sinatra vinyl in. Fly Me To The Moon.
Mile's neck and upper back feel stiff and taught; he rolls his shoulders to try and relieve the tension. He isn't that young anymore; he needs to be more careful working out.
"I like that shirt on you," Apo says. "Is that the one from-"
"From the last time we went thrifting, yeah." Mile nods. "Can you, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck shyly. "Can you massage my back? Like the way you do it."
"You know why I love second-hand clothes?" Apo says as he digs his thumbs into Mile's trap muscles. "When I buy a new shirt, it'll shrink when I wash it, or the material will become brittle, not like when I saw it in the shop. But with an old shirt like this, even if it's tumbled dry, it won't shrink anymore."
"Mm. No matter how many times you wash it, it'll come out the same, because it's been through many things."
"Exactly."
"You smell good," Mile shuts his eyes and inhales through his nose. "Are you sure you don't use perfume?"
Apo chuckles.
Mile's breath hitches at the sultry grin Apo gives him.
"Don't tell anyone. I like to say that I don't use perfume but the truth is I have a brand I like." His eyes twinkle mischievously. "I just wanna be the only one to use it."
Mile has no idea why he finds that hot.
Apo slides his fingers under Mile's shirt and Mile nearly stops breathing. It's an innocent touch to help him better work out the knots in Mile's muscle, something Apo has done without thinking, but Mile can barely suppress a moan as he leans back into it.
"Here's a baby picture of me," Apo offers after a few moments of silence, and shows Mile his phone.
"You literally have not changed. You've lost some fat on your face but damn, you still look like that baby." Mile flips through a few more of Apo, older. "You were...wow."
Once upon a time, Zhan Zhao was the most attractive man Mile had even seen. Not anymore, though. God really has His favorites. Apo was born beautiful. There was not a year where he looked bad. And he doesn't age at all. He looks the same in every year; only his hairstyle changes. His jawline has developed; apart from that, however, all his features have remained flawlessly proportional and immune to age. He deserves a new, dedicated word that describes pretty, sexy, handsome and beautiful at the same time, just for him. His face was surely kissed by an angel.
Apo doesn't age like fine wine, Mile thinks wryly. Fine wine ages like Apo.
They pass the evening in comfortable silence, listening to Sinatra and the rain drumming on the windowpanes.
Apo helps Mile record some jazz on his green electric guitar. BOC has teamed up with rock band Slot Machine for the KinnPorsche soundtrack. Mile is desperate for the opportunity to play with the renowned band someday, if the production goes well.
Then they go through Mile's watch collection, again.
"I really want it." Apo says that about a dozen different priceless watches.
His cute, sexy smile makes him hard to resist.
"You can borrow it anytime you want."
They make cocktails. Black 007.
"Back in the day, this was my favorite," Apo says.
"It looks really good," Mile murmurs appreciatively. "I'm impressed."
Apo licks the rim of the glass and tips it to Mile's lips. Mile drinks, never taking his eyes off Apo. Apo takes a sip from the glass next. Mile is transfixed by the seductive bob of his Adam's apple, his sexy lips, and his sensual neck. It's suddenly hard to breathe. There's no air in the room.
They stare at each other. You're so pretty it hurts to breathe, Mile thinks. He is realizing he may never have the courage to say it out loud. If Mile tells Apo how he feels, will Apo still feel safe and comfortable getting naked around him? Will it jeopardize their work? If their relationship is sabotaged, so too are their careers. It would be selfish of Mile to risk it all for his personal happiness. They should remain friends. It's the all-round best option.
Apo, on the other hand, would definitely confess. If he felt something too, he would say it. That's just his nature. So the fact that there's been no love confession probably means that Apo doesn't feel the same way. Mile will have to be the one to urge this thing along. He's pretty sure that Apo has been flirting with him, for a while now. He wants to belt it out, at the top of his lungs. I need to get you out of my system. What do you say? How about we stop playing? If we never try it, how will we know whether or not it can work? How long must I wait for you?!
But, no. It isn't wise. It could ruin everything-
"Let's rehearse the pool scene." Mile says, completely incongruous with what he just determined.
Mile sometimes says stupid things when he's nervous.
But can't they be friends with benefits? God, it's so easy with him. It would be the best arrangement.
Apo arcs a brow. "It's going to be the hardest one yet. We should block it out so there are no surprises..." He knows Apo's never done this sort of scene with a man before and plays on Apo's insecurities as an actor. He searches Apo's face for a sign, any indication that this has been on the younger man's mind too.
Hardest. Apo would normally make a pun out of that. Fuck, Mile really hasn't thought this through. He felt, and desired, and spoke, before his brain could catch up.
"There's no pool," Apo observes astutely.
Mile gestures to the floor.
"This is the pool. The couch here is the railing." He spreads his arms out. "I'm going to lean here, like this. The water comes up to here; keep that in mind."
"Okay... Where should I come in from?"
"From behind me."
Apo sets the glass down on the countertop and approaches Mile from behind.
He comes in close, Mile's hands settling on Apo's waist. There are no lines. They will have to speak with their bodies. Fortunately for them, they've mastered each other's body language.
Apo's bared neck has never looked more sinfully attractive. Mile's lips descend onto Apo's beautiful, defined collarbone. He licks a stripe slowly up that sinful neck, then kisses Apo's chin and all along his defined jaw.
Their lips slot together like puzzle pieces. He slides his hands up Apo's back beneath his shirt, relishing the warmth and weight of him, wanting more and more. Hot, smooth skin burns between Mile's fingers, under his nails, his lips full of Apo's sweet, plush mouth.
You're so beautiful. It aches to curb the words back, his throat a dam straining to contain a deluge.
"Come sit here. Spread your legs open," Mile orders instead. He clutches Apo to his chest.
Beautiful veiny arms bracket Mile's body.
Mile slides his hands around to thumb at Apo's nipples, cupping his hot pecs. They're the yummiest pecs Mile has ever seen.
Mile has been longing for an excuse to do this again, nipping at Apo's neck, plucking his lips, claiming them with his own.
He hugs the man close, kisses his shoulder. Apo kisses Mile's head. Mile smooths his hands up Apo's back, then down Apo's arms. Opening his mouth, he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up Apo's nipple, fitting his mouth over it, biting, until the nub hardens. He rubs the other between his fingers. Apo tilts his head back, back arching into Mile's mouth.
Both men are breathing hard now. Mile feels weak with desire, feels like pleading desperately, though he doesn't know what for.
"I love you," Apo breathes as Mile kisses and licks down his abs.
"I love you, too." Mile thrusts upwards so their crotches meet, panting slightly from the friction. "I'm inside you now... Clench your jaw. Take a deep breath."
Apo gasps, rising and falling in Mile's lap like he was born to do it. Mile loses himself in the beautiful rhythm. He forgets all about suitors and heirs and responsibilities. He wants to waste the rest of his life on this beguiling hurricane of a man.
"Put your hands behind your head," Mile commands hoarsely. "Moan for me."
The sounds coming out of Apo's mouth are bewitching. Low, guttural groans of hunger and longing.
"I love you," he says again, in the lowest voice Mile has ever heard him use.
Mile knows he's going to come undone, knows it's too late now to stop it.
He focuses on coaxing Apo along.
Leaning forward, he lays Apo on the floor and covers his body, kissing him in earnest.
Apo sucks air from Mile's mouth, biting painfully on Mile's lip when the friction against his aching member finally sends him over the edge. Apo breaks the kiss and gazes up at him from the floor with twinkling eyes.
Mile normally reaches release with a soft noise, graceful and neat. Tonight, he nearly weeps into Apo's shoulder, nails digging into the smooth, sloping slabs of the man's back. Mile's senses return to him like reality after a blissful dream.
"Oops. You've drowned me," Apo whispers.
Mile lays on the floor while Apo showers, staring dazedly at the ceiling and contemplating how he got himself into this mess. There's an orchestral soundtrack within his ribcage.
The shower water stops.
Give me a sign, he pleads with Apo in his mind, a reason to hope, anything, just a little bit's enough.
Apo emerges in a towel.
"Can I borrow some clothes?" he asks.
Mile nods.
"Cool. Thanks, man."
He emerges minutes later, hair spiky and smelling of Mile's body wash. "I've gotta go get some sleep." And Mile remembers he has an early day on set tomorrow.
Mile nods again. "Goodnight." Apo blows him a kiss and leaves without waiting for a reply.
Mike decides to lay on the floor in his soiled jeans until sleep claims him.
•••
There's no text from Apo in the morning. Normally, Mile would drive to the set just to see him. Today, it takes all of his energy to get up from the floor. He's aching and stiff. Everything sucks, forever; he's sure of it.
Mile wishes he could at least regret it. But he can't quite bring himself to taint such a memory with regret. He's glad he didn't shower or change his clothes. He can still smell Apo on himself. Mile pulls his shirt over his face and lays like that.
Apo is going to act like he doesn't remember anything when they see each other again. Mile already knows he isn't going to bring it up, not even to blame it on the cocktails. Apo rarely drinks.
So he's surprised when Apo video-chats him from set.
"Good morning," he greets Mile. "What're you doing?"
"Not much," Mile manages. "Was just about to take a shower when you called."
If Apo notices that Mile is still wearing yesterday's clothes, he doesn't mention it.
"Can I see?"
Mile nearly swallows his tongue, but quickly regains his composure. It wouldn't be much different from filming KinnPorsche together. Apo will probably call him bro afterwards.
"Sure," he responds thickly. "Why not?"
"Such a good friend," Apo says. The word makes sadness sink like a stone in Mile's gut. At least now he doesn't have to worry about getting an erection.
"Yeah, what're friends for?" He props the phone up in the whisker basket on the toilet.
"Wow," Apo whistles when Mile strips down to his underwear. He cups himself while climbing into the shower. "You look good, bro."
Mile doesn't respond. He slides the glass door closed and goes about his shower with dead eyes. If Apo says anything else, he doesn't hear it over the rushing water.
Mile covers himself with a towel on the way out just in case Apo is still on the line. He is.
"Hot," Apo offers summarily, in typical Apo fashion. Mile nods and gets dressed. "Coming to set?"
"Yeah, I'll see you in a bit."
"Okay. See you." Apo fits his chin in his palm. "I love you, okay?"
"Okay. I love you, too."
Mile picks up the phone, his brittle heart softening once more.
"Okay," Apo says at length. "I'll see you."
He doesn't hang up until Mile smiles back.
•••
Mile is heading home to Kalasin for his birthday, and Apo wants to come along and meet Mile's parents. Mile is nervous about introducing Apo to his family, but simultaneously swells with pride at the prospect of bringing Apo home and showing the beautiful man off.
It's a sixteen hour drive to Kalasin, and the traffic is awful. Apo being in the passenger takes the sting out of it somewhat.
Mile has told his mother a lot about Apo and she was taken with him from the moment she first saw his face next to her son's in the low-quality selfies Mile would send during late nights on set.
"You're even more handsome in real life," Mae Nathanee gushes.
"And you're even more beautiful." Apo kisses her hand.
He likes to squeal to Mile about the various feature resemblances he notices, and sometimes just stare in awe like he forgot Mile had parents.
Mile's birthday event is a big one, even bigger than previous years. Apo is sweeter than usual with him.
Mile is the talk of the town on a normal day, but today, he's all anyone in Kalasin is talking about. Him and the notable lack of a woman on his arm.
"You've been different since you met him," Nathanee tells her son. Apo is presently shopping out of Mile's closet in the adjacent bedroom. Mile has already given Apo hats, pants, anything the younger man set eyes on.
"Different how?"
"Happier. Freer."
Mile nods, solemn. Mile was reminded, coming back home, that his life used to be so bubble-wrapped. He was pale, fragile China. Apo is a bull in a China shop. And Mile welcomed him in, for the change and the excitement, and because Apo is one handsome bull.
"He's such a charming young man," Mae continues in earnest. "What can this man not do? He can cook, make high-class coffee, appreciates books, history, architecture, nature, animals, food, he meditates, acts phenomenally, looks like a sculpture, and somehow remains so humble. Seriously, he is the complete package: sensitive, smart, cute, funny, interesting, sociable...I just love him."
"I love him too," Mile whispers.
Apo lounging around his home in a baby blue graphic tee, no makeup, cooking and reading and joking around with his dad, is proving to be too much for Mile to handle.
"What's wrong, honey?"
Mile's hand passes over his eyes. He feels a tempestuous storm brewing behind them.
"I'm not ready to let him go."
"Who says you need to let him go?"
"KinnPorsche is-"
"Just one show, of many you could do together," his mother supplies. She lays her hand on top of Mile's. "If you don't want to stop working with him...don't."
She doesn't understand. In a few months, it'll be over. They'll drift apart, like actors do. He hasn't kept in touch with one single former costar, not one.
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