Work Text:
Gulf couldn’t stop the ragged breath that escaped him. There was just something extremely erotic about the way the elder looked at him; eyes trailing from his eyes to his bottom lip, which made the painter swallow in desire, gliding down to Gulf’s exposed chest where a loose red silk shirt hang seductively over his shoulder, towards his legs which were neatly folded underneath him. The prince bit his lip in an attempt to hide his silent moan, but the way the Mew’s eyes almost seemed to roll back in reply told him he had noticed it nonetheless.
“Phi Mew,” Gulf finally broke the silence, his voice high and pleading. Mew didn’t move, yet the way his mouth fell open showed the prince everything he wanted to know. The elder had always been a sucker for when Gulf forewent any courteousness. He moved himself forward, almost crawling on the bed to reach where Mew was standing. “Please, don’t go,” in contrast with his words, the prince’s tone was keen and teasing. The only desperation present in his voice was one of pure lust.
This made the elder finally react, although not in the way Gulf had intended. Instead of closing the distance between then, Mew took a step back, hands suddenly in front of to enforce some distance between them. This didn’t please Gulf whatsoever. Rather, he felt hurt and annoyed at the action of his phi. Deciding he had had enough patience for today, he stepped off the bed.
Promptly ignoring the barrier Mew had put in between them, Gulf swiftly moved between the phi’s veiny hands and enclosed his own arms over Mew’s neck.
“Phi Mew,” those same terms of endearment. “Just once more,” Gulf’s voice was almost in a whisper as he clung to his phi. His voice’s breathy in the other’s ear, lips brushing the outer shell. The way the elder’s skin suddenly reacted in goosebumps made Gulf smile. He expected him to return the hug any moment now.
“Your highness, we can’t,” the painter shook his head, hands dropping next to him as he let Gulf embrace him. Although he said these words, he did nothing to push the prince away. However, much to the annoyance of the prince, he also didn’t reciprocate it
“Just one time, please p’Mew, for me,” Gulf didn’t give up, pleading again as he brushed his right hand through the painter’s hair. He saw the elder almost give in and lean into the touch, before he suddenly broke them apart. Gulf’s arms felt heavy as they suddenly were without shoulders to brace on.
Mew just stared at him.
Then, completely changing his earlier attitude, Gulf took a step back himself. He crossed his arms over his body and looked at Mew, eyes challenging, and his head tilted. If the painter didn’t want to listen while he was being nice, he'd have to find another way.
“Master Jongcheveevat, I order you,” his voice was stern, one actually fitting of a prince instead of the soft one he had used before. “Make me another of your masterpieces, just for tonight.”
The master painter still didn’t move. Instead he was looking at the ground, suddenly doing everything to avoid Gulf’s gaze. The prince had expected Mew to be reluctant, but not this stubborn! He would normally give into Gulf’s every will and beckon. Yet, for some reason now, he was unwilling to give in. Gulf felt disappointed towards the phi, but much more of it was directed towards himself as he couldn’t convince him.
“So that’s it huh?” the prince shrugged, turning around. He didn’t want Mew to see his eyes which had suddenly started to hurt. He rapidly blinked a couple of times, but all it did was make his sight go blurry. “Now that you’re part of the painter’s guild, you don’t need me anymore!” The painter had gotten the job he had wanted for so long, and now his muse suddenly wasn’t of use anymore. Gulf wanted to scoff, if he wasn’t feeling so sad currently.
“Your highness!” Mew spoke up, but the prince wasn’t done.
“And don’t call me your highness! It’s Gulf, use my name!” saying this, Gulf suddenly realized tears had started to leak from his eyes. Thank god he had already turned away from the phi. He shouldn’t show these emotions to some lowly peasant who just used him and threw him away at will. He couldn’t believe the impudence of a mere subject of the king.
“Prince Gulf, I-“
“Stop calling me like that!” he couldn’t bear it, eventually turning around to meet the phi. Tears were visibly making its way down his face, and he knew his cheeks must be colouring red as well. He and Mew had met such a long time ago and had since spent many hours in each other’s company. Gulf had told him over and over to lose the titles, and he had, until for some reason, now. It pissed the prince off. As if everything they had had done and said together suddenly wasn’t anymore.
Mew stared back at the prince. Gulf could see him clenching his jaw. He was probably biting his teeth as he often did when stopping himself from talking back to the prince. But Gulf wanted him to talk back at him! He wanted him to raise his voice and go back to the carefree attitude that had always been around them.
However, all Mew did was turn around and leave the room. He didn’t even through the door closed as he left, instead leaving Gulf with a small bow to an empty and suddenly extremely cold room.
Prince Gulf felt his knees buckle.
He really gave himself to such a horrible man who left him in pieces.
Dinner didn’t bring Gulf the same joy as it used to. Instead he just found himself chewing almost on reflex as he stared, unseeingly, ahead, barely registering whatever the king and queen were conversing about. Reaching out to grab another piece of chicken, Gulf idly noted as his older sister giggled at whatever the pair said. Her hand was entangled with her husbands, lying for anyone to see on the dinner table.
This gesture seemed to almost taunt Gulf, as his own hand felt cold and empty. It had gotten without its usual warmth for a long time now. Almost 3 months. Time flewy ever since the painter had left him, but the feeling was never forgotten.
“Prince Gulf,” Princes Grace suddenly spoke up, catching her brother’s attention. Gulf averted his eyes from their hands, instead looking up towards her. He nodded at her, a sign for her to continue. “Mother and I have been thinking of requesting a new family portrait to be made. We noted we don’t have one including my husband Mark, which is a great shame.”
Gulf nodded again, ready to go along with anything his sister and mother requested. The Traipipattanapongfamily, although a patriarchal royal line, had always been weak to their females. His father, himself and Mark were no exception to this. “When shall this take place, princess Grace?” Gulf asked, using the royal term for his sister instead of just her name, aware of the servants who were listening to this conversation in the corner of the room.
His sister smiled in reply, sharing a glance with the queen before speaking up again. “We’ve requested a master painter for the task, he’s waiting to introduce his work outside.” She signalled one of their servants to come over. A small boy came quickly, already leaning down so that Grace could whisper in his ear some instructions. After taking careful note of her words, the boy almost ran out of the room. “I know you have a great interest in the arts, so I wanted to have your opinion on their work.”
Gulf almost chocked on his food when he heard her words, but quickly hid it with a cough. Although there was nothing wrong about her words, a great interest in the artist would be more accurate, but he could hardly tell her that. “Of course, I’d be delighted to,” he said instead. His sister positively beamed at his words and clapped in her hands.
The prince put down his fork and knife, laying down his hands on his legs in curtesy. Since they’d be joined by a guest, Gulf figured it’d be alright to leave the food alone now. He hadn’t been hungry anyway, only eating so he didn’t worry the king and queen. The doors of the banquet hall opened, revealing the princess’ servant boy.
He quietly took a step sidewards, making a path for the so-called master painter. Gulf sat a little straighter, interested in who his sister had chosen.
The servant coughed a little, gathering the attention of everyone in the room before introducing the tall man who was standing in the doorway. However, before he could even say a word, Gulf had already stood up. His chair made a loud noise as it fell backwards on the marble floor. Everyone’s gaze was on him in a second.
The words left him before he realized what he was doing. “Mew!”
Standing in the door opening was the same master painted he had spent so many nights with, lying on the bed posing as the man’s skilful hands captured all of him on paper. Painting after painting, sketch after sketch, they had explored every part of Gulf’s body in all its shapes and forms, before the painter one day had stopped. Gulf knew what had happened, was aware of it the moment he heard the news but didn’t want to believe it.
Mew had once been just a small artist sketching on the side of the street, before Gulf had found him and introduced him to the artists’ guild. It had taken some time, many practices and a lot of gold, which Mew didn’t know about, for them to accept the bastard without family. But Gulf had been so enthralled with the painter that he had endured any hardship just to let people finally recognise his talents.
There was no emotion of recognition on Mew’s face as he bowed to the royal family, no confusion at the way Gulf suddenly had stood up. He just completely disregarded the prince as he introduced himself, head towards the ground but voice clear.
“I, Mew Jongcheveevat, am honoured to be in presence of the royal family. Please excuse the humble appearance of this simple servant.”
There was nothing humble about the appearance of Mew, but Gulf couldn’t exactly voice these thoughts out loud. The eyes that had been directed towards him immediately moved towards the master painter, leaving only his sister’s knowing eyes on him. Gulf blushed a little at his mistake, quickly attempting to sit down, only to fall onto the ground as the chair had long left its original place.
The prince blushed even harder at the ungraceful action. A servant ran towards him and helped him get up and sit properly on the chair.
The king and queen didn’t say a thing as all of this happened, simply smiling at the master painter as they waved him to move forward. “We’ve heard great things about you, Master Jongcheveevat. We look forward to seeing your work,” Gulf’s father’s words were full of praise. Mew simply nodded, a small smile of appreciation on his lips. The prince noted he also hadn’t acknowledged his idiotic fall, suddenly feeling really dumb.
Now that Mew was known throughout the country for his great skills in the arts and paints, there was no reason for him to know prince Gulf anymore. The painter had used the prince just until he acquired his goals, and then had left him alone in his bedchambers.
Grace picked up her glass, sipping of the wine which had the same colour as her brother’s face. “Prince Gulf,” she spoke up, directing everyone’s attention to her and her brother. “You seem to be familiar with Master Jongcheveevat,” somehow Gulf figured that she knew more than she was saying, especially in how familiar the two were, “I assume you approve of him, then?”
Gulf needed to take a big breath before he could answer, afraid that otherwise his emotions might betray him. He couldn’t be the lovestruck fool he had been before Mew, instead he was supposed to act like the prince of this country. “Yes, I have been a fan of Master Jongcheveevat and his works for a long time,” he admitted, leaving out the part where he had often been the subject of his works in the first place. Then, a dark thought ran through him. He turned towards the painter, granting him a tin smile. “I’ve heard stories of how you were able to enter the guild even though you had no family to back up, you must have had great connections or a generous sponsor,” he tried to make it sound as if it was a pensive thought, but he knew Mew would hear the dirty undertone of it.
Prince Gulf had been that connection and sponsor, after all.
Mew simply nodded with that everlasting smile. “I have been lucky for my talent to be discovered by someone very generous,” he spoke earnestly. Gulf suddenly hated his perfect acting skills, though he should have seen this coming. The painter must’ve acted all those nights like he liked Gulf as well, just so he could use him. Gulf was reduced to a mere tool for him to achieve his goals.
The queen suddenly clapped in her hands, laughing wholeheartedly. “Well then!” she held out her glass of wine towards Mew. “It’s decided then, we’ll be in your care, Master Jongcheveevat!”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, I will make sure not to disappoint.”
There’s something rather odd about being fully dressed for once as Mew painted Gulf. Maybe it was also the fact that the rest of his family was there, posing next to him for hours as nobody actually conversed with the painter. His family sat mostly still, enjoying the music from the court musicians as they let Mew do his work. Grace spoke to her husband every now and then in whisper, while the king and queen were actively listening to the attendant who updated them of the latest news in the country.
Gulf was silent as could be, his eyes directed towards the man who had spent the last couple of days in the castle without ever gracing the prince with his presence. He had attempted numerous times to talk to Mew and invite him to walk with him – first through a letter and their servant, eventually even by knocking himself on Mew’s temporary bedchambers – but no attempt had worked. The master painter was ‘too busy’ or ‘currently not available, I’m sorry your highness’.
He should be angry at him, disappointed by the way he simply ignored his attempts to reach out, but he just felt empty. As empty as the day the painter had left him. The subject wasn’t worth his anger, anyway.
The prince knew he could simply order the man to come to him, he had that might, but he had never liked using his power over the master painter. He wanted Mew to come to him because he himself wanted to, not because he was supposed to due to their social standings. There had been a time where their social differences hadn’t counted for anything, and Gulf still longed at that time, however foolish it was of him.
“Your highnesses, I am done,” Mew finally spoke up, halting the family, and servants, in whatever they were doing. Their attention shifted towards the Master painter, who, in his red tunic with paint all over it and bitten lips from concentration, spoke up to announce that his latest piece was done. Grace was the first one to stand up, practically running over to the painter to see the results. Her husband soon followed, quietly thanking Mew for his hard work. The king and queen also walked over, leaving Gulf to sit alone.
The prince could hear Mew converse with his family, who all seemed to be enthusiastic about the final result. Once upon a time, he couldn’t help but think, he had imagined this very scene. Only, instead of a simple court painter, Mew would be part of the family. Those dreams were forbidden and impossible, Gulf knew that fully well, but Mew and he had imagined it together as if reality. Their imaginary scenes had been a big part of their relationship, of their passion, and now it was finally in front of him.
“Prince Gulf looks absolutely beautiful,” Gulf was brought out of his daydreams by his sister voice floating over. He looked at her, only to discover she was looking back at him. He raised his brow. “It’s almost as if you’ve painted him before,” her sister noted, a teasing tone meant only for Gulf and Mew. The painter just thanked her as if nothing was odd about the comment. Gulf just sighed and stood up.
He needed to get out of this room, right now. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to see the last depiction of himself by his ex-lover. It would feel like a goodbye he wasn’t ready for, he will never be ready for. Whatever that family portrait is used for, he hoped he didn’t have to see it ever. Just as Mew had thrown Gulf away after using him, Gulf wanted to reciprocate the feeling and throw everything of him away.
“It was rather weird to paint myself though,” before he could leave the room completely, a strange sentence left Mew’s mouth, making him halt in his steps. Paint… himself?
The queen just patted the master painter’s shoulder. “You can’t have a family portrait without the whole family,” she said smiling. Gulf turned around, suddenly feeling very confused. His heart was beating in his chest. Why would his mother say something like this? “What do you think, honey?” the queen used a word meant only to be used in the private of only the royal family to address her husband. “Don’t you think prince Mew fits right in?”
Prince Mew?
Gulf walked as quickly as he could without running towards the painting, he couldn’t see it fast enough. His brother-in-law saw him approaching and took a step backwards to let him through. Everyone watched him as he stared at the painting. Everyone, including Mew.
There were 6 people in the portrait. On the top, the king and queen, adorned in beautiful clothes and jewels. They had a loving look in their eyes as they both had placed one of their hands on their children’s shoulders. Grace sat to the right, her husband on the side. Grace leaned on her husband’s shoulder, eyes glistening as her husband only looked at her. Gulf could feel their love through the painting. On the left sat he himself. His legs were crossed, and he was leaning slightly to the left, to the person next to him. Instead of the green garments he was wearing today, a red silken shirt adorned his torso, open in such a way that it only showed a little of his chest. There was an arm around him, making Gulf feel overwhelmed at the familiarity. Mew looked exactly at home on the portrait, dressed in a white simple shirt. He was wearing one of the jewels Gulf had once gifted him for their anniversary. Mimicking Grace and her husband, he also only had eyes for the prince next to him. Eyes Gulf had seen so many times, only directing to him, were now portrayed in all their love on paper.
“Prince Gulf?” it was Mew who interrupted him as he watched the painting intensely, a hand picking up his own. It was warm and familiar. The smell of paint filled Gulf’s nose, and he wanted to drown in the familiar scent. “Gulf?” Mew tried to gather his attention again.
Gulf swallowed a couple of times before averting his gaze, meeting Mew’s instead. “Mew,” his voice came out a whisper. He had so many questions, things he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. He had no idea where to start. Hell, he had trouble believing anything of this was reality in the first place, not one of their imaginary scenarios.
Instead of speaking another word, the painter held out a piece of paper. Gulf looked around at his family, who were all smiling at him, before taking it hesitantly. The paper was neatly folded. It took a while to open with his shaking hands. Gulf could feel his heart increase its rate at every fold which unveiled another part of the drawing.
It was simple, nothing special, but it meant everything to Gulf.
A single sunflower was drawn in precise charcoal, signed with a name on the bottom Gulf knew very well. He held it up as he saw it in its completion, a giggle escaping him. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad anymore. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that things didn’t make sense. All he knew was that he hadn’t been the only one after all. It hadn’t been one-sided after all.
Gulf could hear the sound of something metal fall on the ground. He raised his brows, annoyed that he had to look somewhere else than the drawing, until he saw the ring which had fallen from the last fold.
The paper drawing dropped on the ground as he grabbed the master painter, pulling him towards him with sudden strength. Not a second later, his own lips met Mew.
Gulf knew what the drawing, ring and kiss meant, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that Mew was never leaving him ever again. All that mattered was that Mew was mine, just as Gulf was his. The sunflower and the sun, the phi and the nong, the prince and master painter, the two husbands, forever together.