Caught in Possession

Red, Red, Red

Warning: mature content!

In celebration of MewGulfWeek2021 on Twitter! @Avalore_8
Today's theme is 'Red'...

"Kiss him back properly, you bastard, where's your tongue at!?" - a stale croissant was hurled tempestuously at the hotel room's TV as Gulf fired expletives at the episode of some unidentified BL series unfolding awkwardly on the screen above the bed.

Why did the 'uke' always look like they didn't want it? Fuck, didn't they know how good it felt to ride a hard, throbbing cock until they had to grip the headboard to stay upright as waves of deepest pleasure ripped apart their body from within?

Hell, of course they didn't - Gulf tutted exasperatedly to himself - most of those actors were straight as rulers. Not that het sex wasn't good, of course. All sex was good, he considered diplomatically - so long as it was was legal and consensual of course.

But being with Mew was a whole different level of sex, like the star at the the top of the carnal Christmas tree, untouchable and unreachable...

The way the elder man gripped Gulf's hips and waist until they bruised like ripened fruit. The way he took him to the edge and then held him back, teetering on the brink of bliss for minutes and sometimes hours - until, when at last he pushed him over, the younger saw stars, literal, twinkling stars. The way he could make him come untouched, even just with his fingers and tongue, plundering his inner caves like a magician-explorer of lust.

"Shiaaaa", Gulf whined out into a pillow as he covered his blushing cheeks. He was horny, so frigging hard up and no Mew to...

Since the moment the pair (and intrepid sidekicks) had uncovered the password to access Min's audio file several days earlier, Mew had been preoccupied. Understandably. All cloak and dagger meetings as they'd returned to Bangkok from Ton Pao.

And it wasn't that Gulf was needy or clingy or possessive - more just that he needed to cling to Mew's body as the elder possessed him. Right now.

//

Mew was instantly ramping up to highest alert - skin prickling into goosebumps, nape hair rising as metaphorical hackles, heart pumping adrenaline to tide his body with a buzzing and fizzing as pupils dilated, struggling in vain to adapt to the darkness and colossal silence of the hotel room he had entered.

"Gulf?" - his deep voice came steadier than accompanying erratic heartbeat...

And suddenly he was under attack in the sense-deadening gloom - wrists jerked harshly together behind his back as Mew heard the distinctive dial click of handcuffs, felt the cool metal jarring uncomfortably against skin as he was forcibly restrained. Shoved roughly onto what felt like a desk chair and attached to its frame, hair tugged sharply from behind as he felt the ghost of an unknown breath against his ear...

But then he smelt it. Familiarity - home. The unique, beloved cherry blossom scent that made his heart race with a wholly different adrenaline potion, as a dark voice whispered in response to his question:

"Present, Daddy"

He huffed out his cheeks - was it really irritation or just plain relief?

"Gulf, what the fuck? I thought you'd been kidnapped or something..."

"Buuut...I'm not the one in the handcuffs..." - unflinching, undeterred - utterly determined.

Wet kisses and sharp teeth grazing along the back of the elder's neck, then, undeniably persuasive. Wait, what had he been angry about again? Frankly, it didn't take much to talk, or touch, Mew around when it came to that person alone.