Present Day
Bangkok never really sleeps.
It breathes—heavy, alive, thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and jasmine wilting on street corners. Neon signs blink in drunken rhythm. Laughter spills from open bars. And somewhere amidst the chaos, in the stillest part of the night, a pair of eyes watches like a blade waiting to strike.
Kinn Theerapanyakul leans against the tinted window of his black SUV, one hand wrapped around a crystal tumbler of whiskey, the other clenching his thigh in restrained irritation. The world outside moves too fast, too loud—but inside this car, silence reigns.
Except for him.
Porsche Kittisawasd.
The newest member of his security team. A street rat with a mouth sharper than any knife and eyes that seem to mock the very notion of fear.
He stands outside the club's entrance now, shoulders relaxed, jaw tilted toward the moon like he's daring the sky to fall. His tie is half-untied, shirt half-open, and not one muscle in his body gives a damn about decorum.
"Do you know how to follow orders?" Kinn had asked when they first met.
Porsche had only grinned. "I know how to win fights."
The two are not the same. And yet, that grin… it unsettled Kinn in a way no enemy ever had.
He doesn't know what it is about him. Just that he can't stop watching.
Like his soul remembers something his mind doesn't.
Six Days Earlier
It begins like this: a job gone wrong.
Porsche should've walked away.
He's done it before—left bruises behind him and blood on the floor, smiling as he vanished into Bangkok's back alleys like smoke. He didn't need this. Didn't need the chaos. Didn't need Kinn.
But the moment that gun was pressed to Kinn's temple in the alley and Porsche stepped in—kicked, punched, and pulled the mafia prince out of the jaws of death—it was done.
A decision made in the marrow of him.
"You should've let me die," Kinn muttered afterward, still bleeding, voice low.
Porsche laughed, breathless and reckless. "Didn't feel like it."
And something passed between them. Not gratitude. Not trust. Something deeper. Older. A thread tightening across time.
In Another Life
The Eastern sky bleeds crimson as Ashiroj stands atop the ridge, hair soaked with sweat and dust. He smells blood—his own and others'. The war drums beat like a second heartbeat, distant but inevitable.
And then, through the chaos, he sees him.
Voranai.
The Crown Prince rides like thunder, face obscured by gold-plated armor, eyes burning with cold fire. He shouldn't be here—not this close, not this exposed. But he is.
Ashiroj's breath catches. Not from awe. Not from anger.
From ache.
Because his body remembers what his mind fights to forget—that once, they were more than enemies. More than tragedy.
They were everything.
He turns his horse before the army sees the hesitation in his stare.
"Coward," he mutters to himself.
But he can still feel Voranai's gaze like a blade between his ribs.
Present
Porsche doesn't believe in fate.
He believes in fists, in gut instinct, in running before things can catch fire. But lately—ever since he started working for Kinn—he's been dreaming.
In the dreams, he bleeds gold. The sky weeps fire. He stands before a man cloaked in silk and sorrow, and every touch feels like déjà vu.
Sometimes, he wakes up with a name on his lips. One that doesn't belong in this lifetime.
"Voranai."
He doesn't tell Kinn, of course. Kinn already watches him like he's some unsolvable riddle. No use adding madness to the list.
But one night—after a fight, after blood, after too much tequila—they sit side by side in the back of the SUV. Their thighs touch. Their breaths mingle. And the silence stretches too long.
"Do you believe in past lives?" Porsche asks, not meeting his eyes.
Kinn looks at him for a long time.
"No," he says. "But I believe in unfinished ones."
Past
Voranai kissed like a man starving.
Ashiroj kissed like he knew it would be the last.
Their lips met in secret places: behind palace doors, beneath storm-lit skies, in the silence between wars.
"You'll ruin us," Voranai whispered once, fingers trembling.
Ashiroj smiled, fierce and unrepentant. "Then let's burn."
Now
They fight again—because they always do.
This time, it's in Kinn's private estate. A disagreement over orders, over rules, over the suffocating collar of control.
Porsche throws the first punch.
Kinn dodges, but barely. His suit rips. His calm unravels.
They crash into walls, knock over antique vases, their bodies tangled in fury.
Then Porsche pins him.
Their chests heave.
And suddenly, it's not rage but something else in the air—something older. Familiar.
Kinn's eyes flicker.
And then he says it.
Quiet. Terrified.
"...Ashiroj?"
Porsche freezes.
Everything stops.
And for a moment—for just one impossible second—they remember.
Then
Ashiroj dies with Voranai's name on his lips.
Voranai watches the flames consume the body of the only man he's ever loved.
And he does not cry.
Not because he doesn't want to.
Because if he starts, he'll never stop.
Now
Kinn doesn't sleep that night.
He dreams of a temple burning. Of kisses behind bloodied curtains. Of a man with a scar over his heart and a promise in his eyes.
He wakes gasping.
His hands shake.
He pours whiskey, but it doesn't help.
The ache is back.
The one that has no name.
Except… it does now.
Porsche.
Three Days Later
They kiss.
Not gently.
It's a disaster of teeth and tongue, of shirts yanked and breath stolen. It happens in the rain. On a rooftop. After an argument about loyalty.
"I hate you," Porsche hisses, fists curled in Kinn's soaked collar.
"I know," Kinn breathes back, pulling him closer.
And they crash together like thunder and flame.
---
Later That Night
Their limbs are tangled on the floor. Rain still taps against the glass.
Kinn brushes Porsche's jaw with the back of his hand, eyes searching.
"You ever feel like... we've done this before?" he asks.
Porsche doesn't answer.
Because yes. Every time Kinn touches him, something ancient inside him roars to life.
And it terrifies him.
Because if this is fate?
Fate always ends in fire.
**************************
Author's Note:
Thank you for diving into "KinnPorsche: Until We Burn Again"—a story born from ashes, haunted by memory, and steeped in all the beautiful pain that comes with love reincarnated.
This chapter was just the beginning—a crack in the surface. Kinn and Porsche don't yet know what their souls have carried across centuries, but the pull between them is no accident.
Did you feel it too? That tension? That ache?
If you enjoyed Chapter 1, please leave a comment! Your thoughts keep this story burning.
**************************
Teaser: Chapter 2 – The Fire Remembers
The past begins to bleed into the present in ways neither of them can explain. A mysterious tattoo. A forgotten lullaby. A stranger who seems to know them too well.
And in the shadows?
Someone who remembers everything.
**************************
Did you like Chapter 1? Drop a 🌕 in the comments if you think fate is about to get messy.