[ It's true that envy is generally something considered undesirable. However, in this specific circumstance, there's something indescribably attractive the possessiveness that sneaks into Alhaitham's manner, in the way he acts— firm grasp of fingers, searing kisses, flashing somethings behind emerald eyes— and the way he speaks. And perhaps part of it is the scholar in him, the want to understand it, but Kaveh is sure that most of his eagerness to unwrap it comes from his own attraction to the scribe, the want to see that stoic, inscrutable face snap into something revealing and honest.

Like the fury burning in his eyes as the light of his Vision shimmered in the darkness of Kaveh's room. Or the firm lips and scraping teeth leaving marks to replace those the architect so thoughtlessly paraded in front of him. ]

Maybe I do.

[ He would clarify it further, really he would— Alhaitham's comment requires a rebuttal, after all, an explanation— but he's distracted by the hand now resting just over the hem of his underwear, the searching drift of the scribe's eyes over his face, the soft purse of lips against his thumb—

and then by the insistence that last night did call for it, that his door sticks, and Kaveh almost laughs, stopped in the end only by the challenge in Alhaitham's voice, the low tone making a shiver of attraction reverberate down his spine.

And oh, he's not one to back down from a challenge. ]

How strange— [ he murmurs, thumb pressing a little more firmly to the plushness of his lower lip, free hand drawing idle patterns along lines of muscle, ] —that despite it always sticking, the one night you decided to actually go ahead and kick it in was the same night you felt the need to insist that the only person who should be touching me is you...