You are, of course, right - as usual, you'll do as you like regardless of what I say.
[ is the scribe's flippant reply, hoping that he sounds as unaffected as he'd like to despite the soft lips against the sensitive skin of his neck and the graze of teeth in protest. what's even worse is when kaveh decides to fully switch on that ridiculous mind of his, flaunting clinical, scholarly words in a sultry context - and yes, it's just another exasperating reminder of why the man in his arms is so worthy in every sense of the word.
nudging the door to his rooms open with the side of his foot, alhaitham lets them both in. the warm midday sun is still filtering lazily through the stained glass windows, throwing light over a bedroom that's so very much his - meticulously clean and looked after in almost every regard except for the stacks of books that pepper the place, left on almost every flat surface that wasn't the floor in varying clusters of relevance. even his bed is freshly made, being part of his routine after he (reluctantly) gets up for the day, but it's one chore he's willing to resign himself to doing again.
it takes little effort to place the blonde down on top of the covers, again, more gently than one would expect from someone with such a surly persona; and he lies down next to him immediately after, sinking into the plush surface with a sigh that could be argued as being content.
he doesn't, however, relinquish all contact though (because why would he do that?). alhaitham is stubborn, bossy, and simply pulls kaveh into him as he lies on his back, arms wrapping around the architect in a way that says 'mine' without using any words.
if he slips his eyes closed, perhaps kaveh won't notice how satisfied he is in this moment. ]
Do you have any further theses you'd like to discuss, or was that it?
no subject
[ is the scribe's flippant reply, hoping that he sounds as unaffected as he'd like to despite the soft lips against the sensitive skin of his neck and the graze of teeth in protest. what's even worse is when kaveh decides to fully switch on that ridiculous mind of his, flaunting clinical, scholarly words in a sultry context - and yes, it's just another exasperating reminder of why the man in his arms is so worthy in every sense of the word.
nudging the door to his rooms open with the side of his foot, alhaitham lets them both in. the warm midday sun is still filtering lazily through the stained glass windows, throwing light over a bedroom that's so very much his - meticulously clean and looked after in almost every regard except for the stacks of books that pepper the place, left on almost every flat surface that wasn't the floor in varying clusters of relevance. even his bed is freshly made, being part of his routine after he (reluctantly) gets up for the day, but it's one chore he's willing to resign himself to doing again.
it takes little effort to place the blonde down on top of the covers, again, more gently than one would expect from someone with such a surly persona; and he lies down next to him immediately after, sinking into the plush surface with a sigh that could be argued as being content.
he doesn't, however, relinquish all contact though (because why would he do that?). alhaitham is stubborn, bossy, and simply pulls kaveh into him as he lies on his back, arms wrapping around the architect in a way that says 'mine' without using any words.
if he slips his eyes closed, perhaps kaveh won't notice how satisfied he is in this moment. ]
Do you have any further theses you'd like to discuss, or was that it?