I Want You To Be My Last

Part 24 : In it together

He moaned despite himself, his hands struggled to catch P'Mew's face to keep him in place. P'Mew groaned through his mouthful in answer, and the sensation would have been enough for him to let it happen - his sleep-muddled brain obviously needed a moment to catch up with the action even though his body, his dick particularly, was already there - at least until he spotted the bruises that circled P'Mew's wrists.

It didn't take a genius to figure out where those marks were from, and Gulf didn't have to be one to know they didn't get there by accident. "Phi -" he breathed, pushing away from P'Mew's vice-like grip on his hips but failing.

One of his hands slid to P'Mew's shoulders for a firm grip, the other going straight to P'Mew's chin, cupping his face steady. By now, P'Mew was using more of his tongue than Gulf was certain the older man was capable of, breathing harshly through his nose and making Gulf shiver despite himself. He groaned again without meaning to, the heat surrounding him was tantalizing as it was overwhelming he could barely think past the need throbbing around his middle, aroused and equal-parts suffering as his fingers squeezed P'Mew's shoulder tightly.

He was dragging his hips backward and away despite the difficulty and gritting his teeth when the action caused his dick to slide out of P'Mew's mouth with a wet pop.

"Phi, stop, stop. Please. I need you to stop right now. P'Mew!"

P'Mew looked up, hand coming up to wipe the remnants of Gulf's desire off his lips. He was still panting hard when he kneeled down, barely remembering pulling his pants and boxers up, heart breaking in ways he wouldn't ever be able to explain the second their gazes catch. P'Mew's eyes were dark, his expression even more so, and there was this unspoken rage at the curve of his mouth when Gulf tentatively reached over to thumb the swollen corner of the older man's lips, his fingers shaking along with the rest of him.

He didn't know where the answering rage had come from but it was there, making his fingertips tingle as he examined the bruises marring P'Mew's face. The cut on his brow, the reddish mark on his cheek now turning purple under the dim light of Gulf's entryway, certain there were more hidden inside the older man's shirt. Gulf saw traces of them on P'Mew's clavicle, reddish spots across his neck and on the underside of his ears even without him looking at them closely.

He let his touch lingered on P'Mew's brow - the blood that oozed out of the cut had already dried out, the skin around it began to swell - feeling his own blood turned to fire under his skin at the sight of it.

He breathed through tightly gritted teeth enough to talk, barely getting the words out with the way his heart was pounding so loudly in his ribcage. "Who did this to you?"

The expression on P'Mew's face hardened visibly, but he said nothing. Gulf's ire doubled on its own, and it was made worse when P'Mew shook his head in answer.

"I've been waiting all day for you, Phi. You said you'll be here early, but instead you came knocking on my door past midnight, looking like you've been in a fight. What the fuck happened to you?"

Fingers found his wrist, and Gulf gasped at the coldness of P'Mew's touch against his skin. He leaned down helplessly, confused and equal-parts frustrated, worried beyond comprehension.

"Gulf -"

"It's your ex, isn't it?" he breathed, his anger making it even more difficult to form words now that P'Mew had averted his gaze in answer.

Fingers tightened around his wrist, P'Mew breathed heavily and cleared his throat, raising his head and giving Gulf a look. Then, he shook his head, and the ugly feeling in Gulf's chest doubled in size.

"The less you know, the better," P'Mew whispered, catching his cheek on one hand and looking him over with something desperate in his eyes. Gulf couldn't look away, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from asking, but it was so hard.