[ When his retreating step is followed, Kaveh responds by taking another— and before long he's backed up against a wall, nowhere to go and Alhaitham bearing down on him, all anger and intensity and something that looks remarkably like hurt, leaving him to swallow against the dryness of his mouth as he watches the way those eyes trail over him, once again taking in the unkempt, debauched state he so confidently paraded around not even an hour ago.
There's something else, too, something he can't quite read just before the scribe's thumb lifts to swipe over that dark patch of skin above his collarbone; between that something and the spark of electricity from that contact, Kaveh's mouth betrays him with a shaky exhale, body with a slight lift of his chin, as if to afford Alhaitham more room to explore.
And the whole time, he's trying to think of a way to answer what is honestly a completely warranted question, even if it feels unfair to his mind. Mostly, he's irritated with himself. They were at peace again; he should have just shut his fucking mouth and not tried to provoke Alhaitham further.
Because now he's paying the price. Up close like this, the scribe is frighteningly handsome, even with the dark circles of fatigue and the bruise, all soft skin and hard jaw and piercing eyes; it's sheer stubbornness that keeps his eyes on the other's face, not allowing them to visually explore more of his body— more muscles, and more— the way he wants to.
He's trapped, and this time it isn't as simple as him trying to say he'll move out. Alhaitham has him cornered. ]
...I wanted your attention, [ is the admission that finally appears, and compared to the even timbre of Alhaitham's voice, Kaveh's is shaky with honesty. ] I wanted you to be jealous. You're the... the reason I was so riled up in the first place, so... so I wanted you to see.
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There's something else, too, something he can't quite read just before the scribe's thumb lifts to swipe over that dark patch of skin above his collarbone; between that something and the spark of electricity from that contact, Kaveh's mouth betrays him with a shaky exhale, body with a slight lift of his chin, as if to afford Alhaitham more room to explore.
And the whole time, he's trying to think of a way to answer what is honestly a completely warranted question, even if it feels unfair to his mind. Mostly, he's irritated with himself. They were at peace again; he should have just shut his fucking mouth and not tried to provoke Alhaitham further.
Because now he's paying the price. Up close like this, the scribe is frighteningly handsome, even with the dark circles of fatigue and the bruise, all soft skin and hard jaw and piercing eyes; it's sheer stubbornness that keeps his eyes on the other's face, not allowing them to visually explore more of his body— more muscles, and more— the way he wants to.
He's trapped, and this time it isn't as simple as him trying to say he'll move out. Alhaitham has him cornered. ]
...I wanted your attention, [ is the admission that finally appears, and compared to the even timbre of Alhaitham's voice, Kaveh's is shaky with honesty. ] I wanted you to be jealous. You're the... the reason I was so riled up in the first place, so... so I wanted you to see.