[ The scribe isn't the only one acting on instinct at this point. Of course, this is Kaveh's default mode, though, the way he always approaches such moments between himself and others. The difference this time for him is the same as it was that morning a few weeks ago, the understanding that no one else makes him feel the way Alhaitham does, the overwhelming sensation that comes hand in hand with that as he realizes that he's never truly known pleasure or fulfilment before now.
And perhaps, he thinks absently, his partner would tell him he's being overly sentimental about it, if he were to voice those thoughts aloud.
But this is neither the time nor the place for him to wonder about that, not when there's so much else on which he wants to focus, needs to focus if he's going to keep himself even remotely grounded. Like the way Alhaitham's muscles tense as a shudder passes through him, like the harsh breaths and occasional low, graveled sounds that answer the strident litany Kaveh pours into his mouth between their kisses. His partner's relative quiet makes the sounds he does make all the more precious, makes Kaveh wonder on fleeting thoughts if Alhaitham could take him apart with words and sounds alone.
(And he could. By the Archons, he could.)
A flurry of arms and legs between their kisses has each of them quickly divested of their clothes, and when Alhaitham's naked body presses flush against his own for the first time outside of his dreams, Kaveh realizes that trying to keep himself cognizant of anything else is a fool's errand when he's with the other like this. He doesn't even complain when the younger man flicks the cork of the bottle to places unknown, even when otherwise logic would dictate that the vial will make a mess without itβ and that he'll be the one cleaning it up. There's no room for any of that when his fingers are too busy leaving invisible prints all over Alhaitham's skin, grasping and touching anywhere they can reach, like an addict unable to get enough of his favorite vice. When his mouth is answering those filthy kisses with equal passion. When everything the other does to him leaves fire in its wake.
And Alhaitham calls him beautiful again and Kaveh answers it with a helpless groan into his mouth, fingers curling into silver hair and kissing him, for the barest moment, sweetly, hoping that he can express his feelings in such a way when words escape him entirely apart from those that beg and plead for more. ]
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And perhaps, he thinks absently, his partner would tell him he's being overly sentimental about it, if he were to voice those thoughts aloud.
But this is neither the time nor the place for him to wonder about that, not when there's so much else on which he wants to focus, needs to focus if he's going to keep himself even remotely grounded. Like the way Alhaitham's muscles tense as a shudder passes through him, like the harsh breaths and occasional low, graveled sounds that answer the strident litany Kaveh pours into his mouth between their kisses. His partner's relative quiet makes the sounds he does make all the more precious, makes Kaveh wonder on fleeting thoughts if Alhaitham could take him apart with words and sounds alone.
(And he could. By the Archons, he could.)
A flurry of arms and legs between their kisses has each of them quickly divested of their clothes, and when Alhaitham's naked body presses flush against his own for the first time outside of his dreams, Kaveh realizes that trying to keep himself cognizant of anything else is a fool's errand when he's with the other like this. He doesn't even complain when the younger man flicks the cork of the bottle to places unknown, even when otherwise logic would dictate that the vial will make a mess without itβ and that he'll be the one cleaning it up. There's no room for any of that when his fingers are too busy leaving invisible prints all over Alhaitham's skin, grasping and touching anywhere they can reach, like an addict unable to get enough of his favorite vice. When his mouth is answering those filthy kisses with equal passion. When everything the other does to him leaves fire in its wake.
And Alhaitham calls him beautiful again and Kaveh answers it with a helpless groan into his mouth, fingers curling into silver hair and kissing him, for the barest moment, sweetly, hoping that he can express his feelings in such a way when words escape him entirely apart from those that beg and plead for more. ]