[ it's immensely gratifying tipping kaveh over the precipice with his name on his lips loud enough to be heard outside the confines of the architect's rooms. alhaitham normally comes out of the other with annoyance or frustration; used as a weapon to chastise rather than this, this desperate form of his name from kaveh's lips, laced with desire and longing. it triggers a dull ache in his soul that the scribe wants to chalk down to base arousal as he easily swallows the architect's completion, because it's easier to explain away the complex dichotomy he feels in terms of natural actions and reactions than delve into anything more ephemeral.
had he enjoyed himself? resoundingly, yes. had he simply offered himself to serve a purpose? also, yes.
which makes it difficult to parse when hands shakily detangle themselves from his hair and instead reach for him, when alhaitham had already intended not to get any more involved, not to further complicate their agreement any further. there's a moment of hesitation as he pulls back slightly, mouth glistening salaciously as he swipes a thumb over his bottom lip to wipe off some excess from the encounter.
but - in the interests of diplomacy, the scribe allows kaveh to guide him bonelessly back upwards, aware that the other was more emotionally fragile than he was - aware that it would be even easier for him to say or do the wrong thing in this moment than it usually was. the boundaries between them are so undefined though, and the scribe hates grey areas; so much room for misinterpretation, such a minefield.
he settles for laying on his side next to kaveh's wrung out form, elbow propping him up on the bed as he all but surveys his handiwork. the upwards curl of his lips had gone, but there's still something summarily smug about his expression. ]
no subject
had he enjoyed himself? resoundingly, yes. had he simply offered himself to serve a purpose? also, yes.
which makes it difficult to parse when hands shakily detangle themselves from his hair and instead reach for him, when alhaitham had already intended not to get any more involved, not to further complicate their agreement any further. there's a moment of hesitation as he pulls back slightly, mouth glistening salaciously as he swipes a thumb over his bottom lip to wipe off some excess from the encounter.
but - in the interests of diplomacy, the scribe allows kaveh to guide him bonelessly back upwards, aware that the other was more emotionally fragile than he was - aware that it would be even easier for him to say or do the wrong thing in this moment than it usually was. the boundaries between them are so undefined though, and the scribe hates grey areas; so much room for misinterpretation, such a minefield.
he settles for laying on his side next to kaveh's wrung out form, elbow propping him up on the bed as he all but surveys his handiwork. the upwards curl of his lips had gone, but there's still something summarily smug about his expression. ]
Did that help?