[ Kaveh isn't sure he'll ever get over the sensation of being lifted into Alhaitham's arms so effortlessly. At the very least, it's enough that his murmured warning of "careful"— in relation of course to the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor— comes a few beats once the other has already passed them, and the architect chuckles at his own expense as his arms loop around the scribe's neck, as he engages himself with peppering the other's jaw and cheek with kisses and nips of teeth.
He only vaguely realizes which bedroom they're headed to, although he can't say he cares either way— all he wants is a bed and Alhaitham— but there is another soft laugh on his lips when he feels the movement of the taller man's body shoving them into the door, a light pinch of his fingers at the nape of the other's neck. And there's a vague wondering thought about how much damage will be inflicted on the house and its contents during the early parts of this relationship, or if he'll ever get tired— the answer is a resounding no— of the brute force the scribe uses when he's wound up.
(And oh, the stories he would tell him if he knew what was on Alhaitham's mind, stories of a crush he's had for years that somehow only recently unveiled itself as love.)
He doesn't see the evidence of the scribe's arousal as he's delivered onto the bed, but he certainly feels it when long legs cage him and pin him to the bed, a low hiss on his lips as the other settles, and he's left fighting off the urge to arch his hips, to press and seek. The look on the other's face almost undoes him then and there, breath hitching as Alhaitham's eyes drag, and then rushing out as the moment stretches; and then Kaveh's arms reach, hands gripping at the other's strong waist and tugging, exhaled breath starting to sound more like a soft whine.
He has never wanted someone so much in his life. ]
Archons, Alhaitham— There's plenty of time to scold me about that later, just come here...
[ Another tug, harder this time, crimson eyes intent as they search the other's face. ]
no subject
He only vaguely realizes which bedroom they're headed to, although he can't say he cares either way— all he wants is a bed and Alhaitham— but there is another soft laugh on his lips when he feels the movement of the taller man's body shoving them into the door, a light pinch of his fingers at the nape of the other's neck. And there's a vague wondering thought about how much damage will be inflicted on the house and its contents during the early parts of this relationship, or if he'll ever get tired— the answer is a resounding no— of the brute force the scribe uses when he's wound up.
(And oh, the stories he would tell him if he knew what was on Alhaitham's mind, stories of a crush he's had for years that somehow only recently unveiled itself as love.)
He doesn't see the evidence of the scribe's arousal as he's delivered onto the bed, but he certainly feels it when long legs cage him and pin him to the bed, a low hiss on his lips as the other settles, and he's left fighting off the urge to arch his hips, to press and seek. The look on the other's face almost undoes him then and there, breath hitching as Alhaitham's eyes drag, and then rushing out as the moment stretches; and then Kaveh's arms reach, hands gripping at the other's strong waist and tugging, exhaled breath starting to sound more like a soft whine.
He has never wanted someone so much in his life. ]
Archons, Alhaitham— There's plenty of time to scold me about that later, just come here...
[ Another tug, harder this time, crimson eyes intent as they search the other's face. ]