[ Just as he allows himself to really sink into the kiss, it's ended in the abrupt way he feared from the start; for a moment, Kaveh finds himself chasing the other's mouth an inch or two before he manages to stop himself, the cold of realization clutching at his heart like a vise. Alhaitham got caught up in it for a moment, but it really was a mistakeβ how can it not be, when the scribe breaks the kiss with a sudden jerk back, when he looks at him with the coldest expression he thinks he might have ever seen?
(But his lips, red from the blood rushing to them, the slight part of them as he seeks to catch his breath; Kaveh knows in this exact moment he'll see this face in his dreams, dreams surely had under the starry night sky once he's kicked out onto the street.)
And yet the scribe's words aren't an instant demand for him to get the fuck out of his house... no, they're somehow worse, color flooding to Kaveh's already heated cheeks as a hurt, indignant expression crosses his face. His hands fall to his sides as if unsure of what to do with themselves, but not before one lifts to rub over his own plush red lips, as if to somehow scrub off that sweet, lingering taste. ]
Are you joking?
[ His voice starts low, still edged with something raw and husky from the kiss they shared, but growing quickly in pitch and volume as the hurt and anger mingle into something that overpowers that, his hands slowly clenching into fists at either side of his hips. ]
Do you really think I'm the kind of person to do that after you specifically told me not to toy with you? Just how little do you think of me?!
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(But his lips, red from the blood rushing to them, the slight part of them as he seeks to catch his breath; Kaveh knows in this exact moment he'll see this face in his dreams, dreams surely had under the starry night sky once he's kicked out onto the street.)
And yet the scribe's words aren't an instant demand for him to get the fuck out of his house... no, they're somehow worse, color flooding to Kaveh's already heated cheeks as a hurt, indignant expression crosses his face. His hands fall to his sides as if unsure of what to do with themselves, but not before one lifts to rub over his own plush red lips, as if to somehow scrub off that sweet, lingering taste. ]
Are you joking?
[ His voice starts low, still edged with something raw and husky from the kiss they shared, but growing quickly in pitch and volume as the hurt and anger mingle into something that overpowers that, his hands slowly clenching into fists at either side of his hips. ]
Do you really think I'm the kind of person to do that after you specifically told me not to toy with you? Just how little do you think of me?!