Hm. It's flattering your own ego to think you could force something on me, but you are always one for the absurd.
[ is his flippant reply, though the jab lacked any heat. rather, it felt familiar, like they'd fallen back into their old dynamic which was imperfect, perhaps, but comfortable.
as the shorter man closes the distance between them, alhaitham's hands fall instead to hold his shoulders as fingers curl into the black material of his shirt - reminiscent of how kaveh had done exactly that last time the scribe had ventured into his rooms. the architect's lithe body against his is warm in a way only he could manage, both in form and spirit, and it does something to settle alhaitham's soul from the mess the last two weeks had brought.
if the scribe notices the sheet pooling at their feet on the floor, he doesn't say anything. instead, alhaitham simply looks back down at the other as kaveh's hand travels up his chest; traces the length of his collarbone; ghosts up the side of his throat, the expression one of faint appreciation. appreciation, not just for the obviously very attractive sight to take in that was kaveh naked, but for words that were finally born of honesty instead of fear.
words, words existed for a reason and were meant to be used, especially for things like this.
soft lips graze the angle of his jaw as kaveh speaks, the architect's graveled voice shooting straight to his core as he feels it on his skin. in turn, his gloved hands tighten into those broad but angular shoulders as alhaitham does everything within his power to resist the vision in front of him, resist simply grabbing him and finishing what that other man had started - only with far more finesse. more meaning. but - kaveh was drunk. he shouldn't. he really shouldn't.
but he's perfectly allowed to assert himself; so the scribe takes the architect's chin in his hand once more, the pad of his thumb resting just against his bottom lip, and tilts kaveh's head so those ruby eyes have to meet his own. he can't help himself, and those embers of arrogant possessiveness are there in his gaze still burning just as brightly as before.
in a deep but quiet voice, probably more commanding than it should be; ]
I don't want you to be with anyone else.
[ a pause, his thumb running the length of his lip in a slow, purposeful motion. ]
no subject
[ is his flippant reply, though the jab lacked any heat. rather, it felt familiar, like they'd fallen back into their old dynamic which was imperfect, perhaps, but comfortable.
as the shorter man closes the distance between them, alhaitham's hands fall instead to hold his shoulders as fingers curl into the black material of his shirt - reminiscent of how kaveh had done exactly that last time the scribe had ventured into his rooms. the architect's lithe body against his is warm in a way only he could manage, both in form and spirit, and it does something to settle alhaitham's soul from the mess the last two weeks had brought.
if the scribe notices the sheet pooling at their feet on the floor, he doesn't say anything. instead, alhaitham simply looks back down at the other as kaveh's hand travels up his chest; traces the length of his collarbone; ghosts up the side of his throat, the expression one of faint appreciation. appreciation, not just for the obviously very attractive sight to take in that was kaveh naked, but for words that were finally born of honesty instead of fear.
words, words existed for a reason and were meant to be used, especially for things like this.
soft lips graze the angle of his jaw as kaveh speaks, the architect's graveled voice shooting straight to his core as he feels it on his skin. in turn, his gloved hands tighten into those broad but angular shoulders as alhaitham does everything within his power to resist the vision in front of him, resist simply grabbing him and finishing what that other man had started - only with far more finesse. more meaning. but - kaveh was drunk. he shouldn't. he really shouldn't.
but he's perfectly allowed to assert himself; so the scribe takes the architect's chin in his hand once more, the pad of his thumb resting just against his bottom lip, and tilts kaveh's head so those ruby eyes have to meet his own. he can't help himself, and those embers of arrogant possessiveness are there in his gaze still burning just as brightly as before.
in a deep but quiet voice, probably more commanding than it should be; ]
I don't want you to be with anyone else.
[ a pause, his thumb running the length of his lip in a slow, purposeful motion. ]
You should be mine.