And It Started Like This

The Unexpecteds

A/N: No propfreading!

***

The brunette watched Mew sip from the glass of water Mew had forced on him when they'd arrived at Gulf's kitchenette as he sank upon the wooden chair in the kitchenette. He was sure to thank Mew in the morning because he had had a lot of drinks tonight.

The Suppasit would-be heir's brown eyes were rather vacant, the harsh black rim enclosing his irises making him appear more alert than he actually felt. Mew's stomach did uncomfortable flips and he was slightly queasy as he was lost in his thoughts, which was now a dark, whirling world. Ton was kissed by Gulf. Ton. Mew's best mate. Ton, Mew's straight best mate. But Gulf had kissed him in his drunken stupor to, what? Prove a point? Mew didn't want to even think of the can of worms that opened.

He cringed. The discomfort in his eyes was becoming worse, and he couldn't sleep. With his thumb and index finger, he squeezed the bridge of his nose. Gulf had just been trying to be amusing, to make fun of the overly paranoid 'breeder' who'd been the subject of savage taunting for the majority of the evening, according to his better judgment. If the situation had been different, Mew could see himself doing the same thing and smiling at Ton's confused expression. At the notion of Gulf's lips—those soft, supple, and wretchedly gorgeous lips—on anyone else's save his own, there was this other part of him, this weird, unpleasant, unusual part of him that felt about ready to lose his lunch.

When he sensed movement over his head, he turned to look up. Gulf was standing above him with a half-lashed lopsided grin and wide round eyes looking down on him. Gulf reached past Mew's shoulders and clutched the back of the chair, his deep, mournful gaze overwhelming, and Mew could do little more than look intently. He pushed himself down onto Mew's lap, using it as a support—much like he'd done with Ton, Mew couldn't help but think with an uncomfortable twist of his gut.

As brunette's weight distributed over his lap and chest, forcing him into the harsh edges of the chair, Mew took in a loud rattling breath. With his hand firmly on his chest, Gulf could almost feel Mew's heart beating against his rib cage. Mew couldn't help but pull towards the smaller guy, lured into the crook of Gulf's neck, nose and brow brushing into the untamed locks behind the boy's ear as he leaned closer. Gulf's steady pulse beneath his heated skin could be felt on Mew's cheek as he reflexively pressed into the heat. He was actually quite warm tonight, radiating like a furnace. The amount of alcohol in his bloodstream could flush a guy twice his size, Mew thought, shouldn't have astonished him.

As he breathed in the aroma of Gulf, the essence of him, he released an involuntary moan. The spice shelf in his mother's kitchen, or the outdoors after the first rain—two things that weren't remotely similar but were both Gulf.

What was the reason for this? What had brought him here? He had the impression that he had travelled from Thailand to Edinburgh, but he had no recollection of anything other than getting into the car. In foreign territory, he was confronted with a new part of himself... and he had yet to make up his mind.

Gulf's hips were rubbing against Mew's pelvis in a steady, methodical roll, and the youngster was busy kissing every inch of his miserable skin. Mew's jaw, cheekbones, brows, and eyelids were now being caressed by those stray lips he had lusted after. Gulf was silently apologizing to each and every part of his face. Gulf took advantage of Mew's breathy gasp to kiss each of his lips, one at a time, upper, then lower, as his lips parted.

"I'm sorry," Gulf whispered against Mew's mouth, his lips only just grazing the brunette's. "For tonight..." He went on to say something else about the situation. It was the first time he'd apologized to Mew and genuinely sounded completely contrite, and his sentences were running together a little bit and he tasted strongly of beer and booze.