[ 'i want you' feels like a strange delineation from 'i want this', at least to the scribe - semantics is extremely important when communicating, and the two concepts are so far remote from one another that it'd be laughable to interpret as the same intention. his haravatat training demands clarification, wants kaveh to explain exactly what he meant by choosing those words in particular, but the searching question dies on his lips as the blonde all but dives forward into him.
the architect finds purchase in his shirt, deft fingers sinking into the fabric and managing to get some decent leverage on him. alhaitham often forgets just how strong kaveh could be, and although the almost-faded bruise on his face was a decent reminder, the sense of desire in the strength with which he yanks him forward makes the scribe's breath catch in his throat.
a satisfied hiss escapes into the kiss instead, that look back in alhaitham's eyes which was reminiscent of what kaveh had triggered in the hallway those few days ago - like he was letting go of some of his tethers of reason and handing his heart over to something much more unpredictable; more carnal. it takes no encouragement for him to respond enthusiastically, soundly kissing the blonde back as his hands seek out kaveh's slim waist.
distantly, so distantly, there's a weak, quiet voice that's trying to remind him he's doing this to expedite a task, doing this to speed things along; definitely not because kaveh drives him to both ruin and distraction at the same time, definitely not because the other takes up an impregnable corner of his mind and refuses to leave.
strong hands travel over porcelain skin to the small of his back and back to his waist like the scribe needed to map every inch of it for greed's sake - and then, he's not quite sure what triggers it, whether it was a delicious noise he managed to drag out of kaveh or the taste of him as he swipes his tongue across his teeth, but something breaks inside the scholar. a lesser man would've crumbled much sooner, having had to watch someone so beautiful stroke themselves to ruin right in front of them; really, it's quite admirable alhaitham had lasted this long.
leveraging his strength over the other, fingers sink tighter into the muscle of kaveh's waist and the scribe pins him heavily to the mattress in one fluid movement, the wood of the bed complaining again at such a strain. a thigh swings over the other side of the architect's hip, trapping him in place underneath the taller man, covers fallen away and forgotten.
for a wonderful, agonising moment, emerald eyes rake themselves over kaveh's body, simply appreciating - and although alhaitham looked almost as unruffled as usual, there was the most miniscule upwards curl to his lips as he drinks the other in, humming lowly in appreciation to himself.
he then cants at the waist, coming down to kaveh's level again - though he doesn't immediately satisfy his desire to kiss the other soundly again. instead, his mouth travels up the sensitive skin of kaveh's neck, coming to stop at the shell of the architect's ear, breath hot against it. in a graveled whisper that comes out more demanding than he intends; ]
no subject
the architect finds purchase in his shirt, deft fingers sinking into the fabric and managing to get some decent leverage on him. alhaitham often forgets just how strong kaveh could be, and although the almost-faded bruise on his face was a decent reminder, the sense of desire in the strength with which he yanks him forward makes the scribe's breath catch in his throat.
a satisfied hiss escapes into the kiss instead, that look back in alhaitham's eyes which was reminiscent of what kaveh had triggered in the hallway those few days ago - like he was letting go of some of his tethers of reason and handing his heart over to something much more unpredictable; more carnal. it takes no encouragement for him to respond enthusiastically, soundly kissing the blonde back as his hands seek out kaveh's slim waist.
distantly, so distantly, there's a weak, quiet voice that's trying to remind him he's doing this to expedite a task, doing this to speed things along; definitely not because kaveh drives him to both ruin and distraction at the same time, definitely not because the other takes up an impregnable corner of his mind and refuses to leave.
strong hands travel over porcelain skin to the small of his back and back to his waist like the scribe needed to map every inch of it for greed's sake - and then, he's not quite sure what triggers it, whether it was a delicious noise he managed to drag out of kaveh or the taste of him as he swipes his tongue across his teeth, but something breaks inside the scholar. a lesser man would've crumbled much sooner, having had to watch someone so beautiful stroke themselves to ruin right in front of them; really, it's quite admirable alhaitham had lasted this long.
leveraging his strength over the other, fingers sink tighter into the muscle of kaveh's waist and the scribe pins him heavily to the mattress in one fluid movement, the wood of the bed complaining again at such a strain. a thigh swings over the other side of the architect's hip, trapping him in place underneath the taller man, covers fallen away and forgotten.
for a wonderful, agonising moment, emerald eyes rake themselves over kaveh's body, simply appreciating - and although alhaitham looked almost as unruffled as usual, there was the most miniscule upwards curl to his lips as he drinks the other in, humming lowly in appreciation to himself.
he then cants at the waist, coming down to kaveh's level again - though he doesn't immediately satisfy his desire to kiss the other soundly again. instead, his mouth travels up the sensitive skin of kaveh's neck, coming to stop at the shell of the architect's ear, breath hot against it. in a graveled whisper that comes out more demanding than he intends; ]
Who gave you the right to be so beautiful?