I Want You To Be My Last

Part 32 : Desire and Desperation

The plan was to help P'Mew out of his pants as soon as his shaking hands would allow him but apparently, that was easier said than done. His eagerness proved to be messing up with his coordination, and his focus, that finishing such a simple task ended up harder than it should.

P'Mew obviously realized this because as soon as his fingers slipped on the button for what seemed like the seventh time, the older man huffed and took over to finish the job for him, batting his hands away and undoing the button himself.

It was embarrassing as he relate to it, but he figured a little help at this point wouldn't hurt.

"There," P'Mew announced, breathless, his long, artist's hands even pushing his jeans down his narrow hips to hurry things along. Gulf watched the movement closely, his throat working hard on a swallow the moment his gaze zeroed in on the front of P'Mew's boxers, on the tent P'Mew's dick made through the soft fabric and at the wet patch tainting the spot near the waistband.

An almost wounded sound left his lips at the sight of it.

"Do you still need help on this, or would you rather do that part yourself?" P'Mew drawled, voice thick with want, his thumb hooking beneath the waistband of his own underwear with obvious intention, blinking at Gulf through lowered lashes and effectively tugging him out of his temporary daze. He looked up past that inviting sight to find P'Mew staring down at him, his eyes dark and wanting but still with that hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his perfect lips, the shadow of uncertainty evident on his face.

He squirmed in place, switching his weight on his other leg and leaned in before he could stop himself, nuzzling his nose against P'Mew's hard-on through his boxers and feeling the older man drawing in a quick, sharp breath in answer.

"Maybe. Are you going to let me?" he asked as he pulled away, hoping he sounded as brave as he intended to be. He probably didn't, judging by the way his voice had cracked in the middle and he was having trouble regulating his breathing as it was.

A pause, a breathe, and then P'Mew's fingers were on his jaw, his touch light and coaxing.

"You know I would, Nong. Always. But I need you to tell me something first," P'Mew said the words so softly he had to strain hard to hear, feeling P'Mew's hand caressing his face ever so gently.

"Hmm?" he raised his head when P'Mew's hand cupped his cheek, tilting it slightly until he was looking straight at P'Mew.

"You're certain you want to do this?" the question didn't came as a surprise, given the way his fingers were still shaking on their grip around P'Mew's hips. If anything, it was just as he'd expected. He swallowed through the lingering feeling of not knowing exactly what he was trying to accomplish, gaze tracing the shape of P'Mew's cock through the soft fabric. P'Mew was still talking, and the urge to shut him up doubled on its own.

"I mean, you don't really have to if you're not - fuck! " P'Mew's sentence ended up in a curse as Gulf chose the exact moment the older man was talking to bite him lightly through his underwear. P'Mew's hips reared back like an automatic reflex, but Gulf's arms were quickly there to keep him in place.

"Goodness, fuck,"

He looked up once again to the sight of P'Mew panting hard, his mouth parted wide in shock. The older man's eyes were huge on his face, his arousal was still palpable as he stared down at him, mouth twisting ruefully at the edges. Catching him off-guard like this, Gulf thought, was pretty awesome. He could feel those proverbial butterflies having a blast in his belly at the sight of P'Mew's perfectly aroused face, at the way the older man was trying his level best to swallow past the need to ask him what in hell he thought he was doing despite the difficulty.