[ the enthusiastic plea that spills from kaveh's lips is all that he needs to let his final shred of inhibition evaporate, mind formerly clouded with more methodical thoughts than he'd like (do it right, treat him right, say things right) - now clear, replaced instead by pure attraction. pure instinct. any other queries or doubts could wait until he'd taken the vision underneath him apart piece by piece, because whatever coherent thought he remained in possession of right now is tasked with committing this to memory.
every expression on kaveh's face, every sound wrought from that lyrical voice - it was his to experience, his to remember.
it wasn't often that alhaitham handed over the driving seat to his more instinctual side, something that had only become more common since they'd begun this strange dance of a relationship, but now of all times it's starting to feel more comfortable, more useful as he wastes no time in divesting the blonde of the rest of his clothes. the only pause comes when slim fingers slip around his own length, causing the scribe to bodily shudder in pleasure as his muscles tense - because of course, kaveh was the only one who could ever elicit such an overwhelming feeling from him, quite unlike anything he'd felt before. obviously, this was not the scribe's first time around the block, but something tonight felt so different to any other night he'd lay with someone, felt so much more intense in almost every way.
somewhere along the way of a tangle of arms and legs, ragged breath and mumbled words of adoration, encouragement, pleading, alhaitham is relieved of the rest of his own clothes thanks to deft hands that were as wont to wander as kaveh's usual train of thought. it's hard not to take another pause and simply drink in the beauty before him - much like he'd done a couple of weeks ago, the last time they'd somehow managed to fall into bed - but his own need is great enough that he simply dives back down to kiss the blonde relentlessly, his ministrations every bit as frustratingly intense as the rest of his personality.
in-between the increasingly lewd brush of their lips, he'll prop himself up on one arm and sneak the other into his bedside table for a small vial of oil that the scribe was definitely not sequestering in preparation for a night such as this. not in the least.
a heated breath ghosts against the architect's cheek, some small shudder of attraction in alhaitham's voice as a thumb deftly flicks the cork of the bottle off somewhere (he doesn't care where); ]
no subject
every expression on kaveh's face, every sound wrought from that lyrical voice - it was his to experience, his to remember.
it wasn't often that alhaitham handed over the driving seat to his more instinctual side, something that had only become more common since they'd begun this strange dance of a relationship, but now of all times it's starting to feel more comfortable, more useful as he wastes no time in divesting the blonde of the rest of his clothes. the only pause comes when slim fingers slip around his own length, causing the scribe to bodily shudder in pleasure as his muscles tense - because of course, kaveh was the only one who could ever elicit such an overwhelming feeling from him, quite unlike anything he'd felt before. obviously, this was not the scribe's first time around the block, but something tonight felt so different to any other night he'd lay with someone, felt so much more intense in almost every way.
somewhere along the way of a tangle of arms and legs, ragged breath and mumbled words of adoration, encouragement, pleading, alhaitham is relieved of the rest of his own clothes thanks to deft hands that were as wont to wander as kaveh's usual train of thought. it's hard not to take another pause and simply drink in the beauty before him - much like he'd done a couple of weeks ago, the last time they'd somehow managed to fall into bed - but his own need is great enough that he simply dives back down to kiss the blonde relentlessly, his ministrations every bit as frustratingly intense as the rest of his personality.
in-between the increasingly lewd brush of their lips, he'll prop himself up on one arm and sneak the other into his bedside table for a small vial of oil that the scribe was definitely not sequestering in preparation for a night such as this. not in the least.
a heated breath ghosts against the architect's cheek, some small shudder of attraction in alhaitham's voice as a thumb deftly flicks the cork of the bottle off somewhere (he doesn't care where); ]
You're so beautiful.