The So-called Boyfie | MewGulf ✔

Part 2 💖

^That's so cute uwu (PC to the rightful owner)

He was shocked to see a Blackhawk helicopter waiting for him, and Saint shoved him out of the door.

Gulf sat alone in the back-leather seats of the custom-fitted Black Hawk. He could tell that it was used relatively often, not because it was worn but because there were objects strewn around the vehicle. There were a camera and a notebook, which was written in Thai so that Gulf could not understand it. He knew enough to speak, but he had never bothered learning the written language. He tried to sound out a few words, but the vowels kept messing him up, and he put it aside so that he could pick up something else.

There was a suit hanging from one of the windows in a garment bag. The pants were too long for Gulf and the waist was proportionately narrow. The shoulders of the suit jacket were broad, and Gulf figured that this Mew probably had a nice body... or at least it would not be fat.

He found a single black hair in the seats, and Gulf liked the texture of it. He put it in the pocket of his board shorts so that he could keep it with him.

The helicopter landed in Rayong, the nearest city to Bangkok in Thailand. He was met by a man in a black and grey suit, crisp and sharp with brown-colored hair.

Gulf could not get over the vehicles that he was being driven around in. Why in the world would Saint give up this job? It made no kind of sense to Gulf as he enjoyed the breeze trickling invisible fingers through his hair.

They went to a salon, first. Gulf's hair was shampooed and conditioned to get the beach out of his hair and he was given a few highlights and a few crucial pieces were cut off. The effect was that when he could move again his hair had a life of its own, and Gulf had to keep twitching his head a little to keep the mess out of his eyes.

The brown-haired guy took him to a few boutiques and shoe stores, and Gulf walked out of the stores in white Doc Marten combat boots, a military-inspired button-up short sleeve shirt that was perfectly tailored, artfully ripped up jeans, and then pencil skirt lady took him to a jewelry shop.

Gulf was shocked when he was given chunky white gold rings of all different designs, and the pencil skirt lady nodded her head before putting bright red rubies with platinum designs in his ears.

"What if I lose one of them?" Gulf whispered, kind of panicked.

"Then Mr. Suppasit will buy you another one. This is only the beginning of the wardrobe we need to buy for you. You'll be receiving clothing as Mr. Suppasit needs you to have them," the guy said.

Gulf stared at him as he led him back to the car, and they drove back to the airport. It took him a few minutes to realize after he had sat down in his seat in the Black Hawk helicopter, that he was not alone this time.

The brown-haired guy sat next to a tall thin man, who sat directly across from him, speaking into a microphone affixed to his ear. His voice was low and sexy, and Gulf wondered what it would sound like whispering in his ear. He drew on a tablet in front of him, dragging windows off the page and looking into the camera at whomever he was communicating with.

Gulf felt a little lied to. Most everyone his whole life had told him that he was the most beautiful man they had ever seen, but this man was obviously the most beautiful man on the planet. Gulf did not even know that men could look this good because if all men had seen him, they would go instantly gay at his obvious physical perfection.

Gulf did not realize for the longest time that he was staring at the man. He had pale white skin and intriguing lips; his jawline was slender but attractive. Gulf wanted him to take off the sunglasses that were hiding his eyes, but he could tell that his eyebrows were thick and beautifully arched. His ears were just pointy enough to be cute.

The man was dressed from neck to wrist to ankle in beautiful gray fabrics, a suit that did nothing but teases the viewer with secrets that it covered up. His hands were gorgeous, his fingers only slightly longer than his palms, and sexier than ever.

Mew had put the tablet aside and was staring right back at Gulf, who stuck his hand in his new jeans pocket to touch the hair he had found earlier. He wondered if it belonged to this man.

"I'm Suppasit Jongcheveevat call me Mew," the man said, and Gulf almost died at the sound of that deep instrument that was his voice.

"Kanawut Traipipattanapong, Gulf," he answered, holding his hand out for Mew to shake. When their skin touched, Gulf swore he felt a shock, but Mew did not seem to be affected by it at all.

"Are you Thai American, too?" Mew asked, leaning back in his seat.

Gulf had to stop himself from crawling into the other man's lap, wanting to nibble and lick his skin and take those damn clothes off. "Yeah, my family is from Bangkok."

"Mine too," Mew smiled at Gulf, and then he took his sunglasses off.

Gulf felt his heart fly out of the helicopter in self-preservation. Mew was still smiling at Gulf, who wished that he could make himself stop staring.

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