That night, Kluay decided to head straight for the three pricks who had pulverized his brothers. They never traded words—only blows. Usually, it was a pack of them sprinting with clubs, looking to crack skulls. This time, they were holed up in some VIP club owned by one of their old men.
The tall figure marched through the haze of cigarette smoke and the stench of booze, following the waiter's lead. Dim orange and red lights flickered across his stoic face. His muscular frame swayed slightly, broad shoulders cutting through the crowd as the heavy bass rattled his eardrums. He didn't give a shit about the stares; his only goal was reclaiming Phranakhon's pride.
His eyes scanned through the smog until they landed on the corner VIP booth. There they were: A, B, and C. The three Uthen kingpins who looked way too goddamn good for their own good. They sat there with their legs crossed, sipping whiskey with an air of sophistication that didn't fit a typical grease monkey. Kluay didn't hesitate. He stormed up and planted himself right in front of their table.
"Hey! You Uthen shits? A, B, C... the ones who put the Phranakhon boys in the hospital the other day?!"
His deep, rugged voice boomed over the music, silencing the table instantly. A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto the outsider in the shop shirt. The tension spiked as several large men in high-end streetwear stood up in unison.
Thump!
Kluay blinked. As more than ten guys rose to their feet, the confidence he'd arrived with shriveled up. A sudden wave of realization hit him—he was a fucking idiot for walking in here without a plan.
'Shit, I just want to go home and play video games now.'
"You... Kluay, from Phranakhon," A said, the calmest of the bunch. His razor-sharp gaze didn't just linger on Kluay's dense face; nobody was stupid enough to walk into a death trap thinking their rivals would be nice. A's eyes drifted down, unable to ignore the massive, heavy bulge straining against the denim of Kluay's jeans.
"Uh... yeah," Kluay managed, momentary panic setting in as a handsome, scarred face leaned in close. He could smell a mix of expensive cologne and cool cigarette smoke.
"You came alone?" B asked, a 'strangely predatory' smile spreading across his face that made Kluay's skin crawl.
"Yeah."
"Heh, you drunk or something?" C, the third leader, let out a dry laugh as he crowded into Kluay's personal space. Another scent of pricey cologne mixed with whiskey hit Kluay's nose, making his head spin.
"Er, not yet. Look, I've got shit to settle. Just with you three. Got it?" Kluay blurted out before things could spiral.
"Settle what?"
"If you bastards are so tough, go man-to-man with me. Why'd you have to jump my brothers? That's some pussy, pack-mentality bullshit."
Kluay stared into the faces of rivals who looked more like movie stars than thugs. Their overwhelming, lethal charisma hit him square in the eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs, and he couldn't tell if it was from the threat of a beatdown or something else entirely.
Kluay honestly thought a duel was the only honorable way out for a man, never once suspecting that the predatory glances traded between the three wolves held a far darker meaning. The towering rival wasn't being sized up for a fight; he was being eyed like a succulent piece of meat that had just delivered itself to their doorstep.
Scrrrreeee!
The harsh scrape of a chair snapped Kluay back to reality. A, the coldest and most composed of the pack, held up a hand to stop the dozen or so thugs ready to swarm. "Back off! He's alone, so we'll handle this ourselves... You want a piece of us? Then follow us, big guy."
Kluay let out a quiet sigh of relief. Three was better than twenty. At worst, he'd just end up in a hospital bed next to his buddies. He followed them with a naive, misplaced confidence.
The heavy door to the innermost VIP room shut behind them with a definitive Click! as the bolt slid home.
"I thought you said man-to-man?" Kluay asked, his eyes darting between the three men already boxing him in.
"Take your pick... who do you want to get fucked by first?" B smirked, his eyes raking over Kluay with a hunger that made the big man shift uncomfortably.
"Uh... I don't... whoever," Kluay stammered. The way they were looking at him felt dangerously wrong.
"Your name's Kluay, and you used to live in Sap Phaisan Village, right?" C asked, crowding into Kluay's space until his back hit the cold wall.
"How the hell do you know that?"
"The dumbass who gets wasted and loves to strip down to show off how long and thick his 'banana' is? Kluay, Phranakhon Tech, Junior year," A recited the legendary drunken history with pinpoint accuracy, making Kluay's face flush a deep, burning crimson.
"Yeah! That's me! So what?!" Kluay puffed out his chest, trying to maintain his pride even as a strange, fluttering heat began to pool in his gut.
"Let's have a look then," B said, his gaze dropping shamelessly to the massive, undeniable bulge straining against Kluay's denim. The sheer size of it, even soft, was enough to make these predators salivate.
"Look at what, you freak? I came here to fight! Ah... Hey!"
Before Kluay could even square his shoulders, B and C's heavy hands slammed onto his lats.
Grab! Grab!
With overwhelming strength, they shoved Kluay down, pinning his massive frame against the heavy wooden table.
"Hey! Why are you grabbing me? You said no jumping!" Kluay barked, thrashing against them, but their grip was like iron.
"We like it rough, and you were stupid enough to walk into our den alone. You've got that nerd face but a body like a god... You're still a virgin, aren't you?" A stepped in, his thug-like swagger replaced by a dark, shimmering lust. Kluay's eyes went wide, then squeezed shut in terror.
Big hands reached out, unbuckling Kluay's belt and diving straight into his pants with practiced speed.
Fwip!
"Shit! What are you doing?!"
Kluay's eyes nearly popped out of his skull as A's hot palm tunneled through his underwear, wrapping a firm grip around the thick, searing-hot shaft that was already twitching to life by instinct.
Grip!
"Aaahhh! Don't squeeze... Fuck, don't squeeze my cock!" Kluay let out a strangled wail. The heavy meat that had never been touched by another soul was now trapped in his rival's fist. It was usually slow to wake, but now it was throbbing, turning rock-hard against the palm. His whole body shuddered at the violation, his rugged face burning red to the tips of his ears.
"What do we have here?" B leaned in, staring at the prize in A's hand—a thick, heavy piece of timber that filled his entire grip.
"It's fucking long and hard as hell already," A muttered, licking his lips as he watched his prey gasp for air. Just getting his dick handled by a man was making Kluay's heart beat out of his chest.
"You think you're big, huh?" B and C didn't waste a second. They took turns kneading the massive length, milking it until Kluay was on the verge of losing his mind.
Stroke! Squeeze!
"Ooooh! Don't stroke it! Stop... stop jerking my cock! Oooooh, fuck me!"
Kluay arched his back, letting out a raw, guttural moan. The intense pleasure they were forcing on him turned his brain to mush. The violent friction at the base made the veins on the shaft bulge and swell until it was an angry, throbbing purple, stretching the skin tight.
"It's filling up my whole hand... god, I can feel it in my gut," A hissed, his eyes dark with a terrifying, primal hunger.
"I want to eat it..."
"Me too..." B added, burying his face in the crook of Kluay's neck, inhaling his scent like a starving animal.
"Let's ruin him together."