[ A singular moment passes when Kaveh strongly considers telling Alhaitham to shut up over the jab at the long speech that he gaveโ apparently always givesโ but such a comment would be counterproductive after having just requested the other man share his thoughts, and so the scribe is met with a muttered "asshole" instead. And it's nice, the way he can say it without anger, accented with a chaste kiss and a soft smile, the comfort and ease in the words and the way Alhaitham's hair feels slipping through his fingers as he sketches over his crown, shapes and patterns without rhyme or reason.
The only bad thing about any of this is the ever-present hangover, the nausea and the headache combined doing their best to try and distract him from how good he feels for once.
But they fail, and Kaveh greets the trail of the scribe's hand with closed eyes and a pleased sigh, his head tilting into the touch at his ear at Alhaitham's fingers tuck back a wild lock of hair, and if the other man is indeed tracking his reactions he'll find the problem is that the architect likes everything he does, at least in this moment where he's content to bask in him, to just enjoy the peace that has settled between them at least momentarily in the wake of his confession. Nor does he complain when the scribe's questions are punctuated with kisses; each is returned with one of his own, with a slow smile that only grows, and Kaveh finds that he wants to follow up on all of the things the other has just said, wants answers to all of those questions and more.
As a scholar, he's ever-used to the feeling of curiosity, but it's ever been the airy, tickling feeling of knowledge to be uncovered. This feeling, though, is more like a smoldering ember, ready to burst into flames. ]
Driven to distraction, huh? [ He underscores the sentence with a kiss of his own, one a little slower and deeper, a glide of his tongue and a nip of his teeth the promise of more as his free hand comes to rest on Alhaitham's chest. ] Let's say I'm curious to hear about it...
What kind of work are you thinking of, Alhaitham? How can I convince you to tell me more?
no subject
The only bad thing about any of this is the ever-present hangover, the nausea and the headache combined doing their best to try and distract him from how good he feels for once.
But they fail, and Kaveh greets the trail of the scribe's hand with closed eyes and a pleased sigh, his head tilting into the touch at his ear at Alhaitham's fingers tuck back a wild lock of hair, and if the other man is indeed tracking his reactions he'll find the problem is that the architect likes everything he does, at least in this moment where he's content to bask in him, to just enjoy the peace that has settled between them at least momentarily in the wake of his confession. Nor does he complain when the scribe's questions are punctuated with kisses; each is returned with one of his own, with a slow smile that only grows, and Kaveh finds that he wants to follow up on all of the things the other has just said, wants answers to all of those questions and more.
As a scholar, he's ever-used to the feeling of curiosity, but it's ever been the airy, tickling feeling of knowledge to be uncovered. This feeling, though, is more like a smoldering ember, ready to burst into flames. ]
Driven to distraction, huh? [ He underscores the sentence with a kiss of his own, one a little slower and deeper, a glide of his tongue and a nip of his teeth the promise of more as his free hand comes to rest on Alhaitham's chest. ] Let's say I'm curious to hear about it...
What kind of work are you thinking of, Alhaitham? How can I convince you to tell me more?