[ with the state that kaveh had been in when he'd started, there's no doubt that alhaitham could've approached this far more practically without the teasing, without testing to see how much he could make the blonde writhe in the sheets and wantonly moan his name in a way that shoots a keen arousal straight down to his core. of course, he's not intending to involve himself past pleasuring the other - after all, his offer had been one of help, not of self-satisfaction - but the scribe is surprised to find out just how far he'd actually ended up deviating from his course, giving in to far more selfishness and self-indulgence than he'd intended when he'd suggested this.
those deft, artistic fingers weave into his hair and tighten in a way that only ends up making him painfully hard; inconvenient, considering he had to return to the akademiya almost straight after this, and that it would be nigh impossible to erase these erotic images from an eidetic memory with any speed either.
needless to say, he needs very little encouragement to finish what he'd initiated, though the scribe pauses for a moment in his vantage point between kaveh's legs, his own still-gloved hands running up the muscle of the architect's thighs and coming to rest at the jut of his hips.
in a commanding, low voice that's slightly hoarse in a way that could only belie the lewd things he'd been doing to kaveh, he murmurs; ]
Come for me, then.
[ - and then takes the blonde entirely in his mouth once more, resuming the relentless rhythm. he wanted to see kaveh absolutely fall apart, and for once, he wanted to be the reason for it - not some nameless person from a tavern, not some gorgeous man or woman that'd be rightfully smitten with him the moment they saw him, not anyone else.
[ The irony, perhaps, of Alhaitham's dark thoughts is that this will hardly be the first time the blonde has fallen apart because of him, nor even the second. But it's different this time of course, because this isn't imagined or dreamed but real, happening. The feel of scribe's talented mouth and tongue. The challenging glare in his emerald eyes. The obscene sounds of his movements over Kaveh's length. The still-lingering scent sandalwood, mixed now with the architect's own sweat and the musky, heady flavor of sex. That voice, low and rough, commanding Kaveh to come— ]
Alhaitham—!
[ And he does, a strangled cry of Alhaitham's name half-smothered in his own left wrist as his hips jerk and stutter against that sinful mouth, fingers too tight and pulling at silver strands of hair in an instinctive attempt to tug him in closer, and tears of mingled pleasure and relief spring to the corners of Kaveh's tightly-shut eyes as the painful, unbearable pressure of the morning finally lessens. ]
Fuck, oh fuck... oh fuck...
[ The curse word is repeated over and over like a mantra, puffed out between desperate gasps for breath, body trembling and chest heavy and fingers unwinding themselves— and he should probably apologize for tugging on Alhaitham's hair so hard, but his brain has summarily quit working— eyes opening as he stares unseeing at the ceiling of his room.
Kaveh has been with his fair share of people over the years, but he's never experienced anything quite like this, and he's almost afraid to look back down the length of his body at the scribe once more, but he does, tongue darting out over too-dry lips as he reaches for him. In the pleasant haze of the afterglow, he's forgotten momentarily his worries about what this is, and what they are, and the fact that Alhaitham seems to think he wants something transactional; in fact, as he slowly recovers and his brain pieces itself back together, all he can think about is the fact that he wants to please the scribe in return. ]
[ it's immensely gratifying tipping kaveh over the precipice with his name on his lips loud enough to be heard outside the confines of the architect's rooms. alhaitham normally comes out of the other with annoyance or frustration; used as a weapon to chastise rather than this, this desperate form of his name from kaveh's lips, laced with desire and longing. it triggers a dull ache in his soul that the scribe wants to chalk down to base arousal as he easily swallows the architect's completion, because it's easier to explain away the complex dichotomy he feels in terms of natural actions and reactions than delve into anything more ephemeral.
had he enjoyed himself? resoundingly, yes. had he simply offered himself to serve a purpose? also, yes.
which makes it difficult to parse when hands shakily detangle themselves from his hair and instead reach for him, when alhaitham had already intended not to get any more involved, not to further complicate their agreement any further. there's a moment of hesitation as he pulls back slightly, mouth glistening salaciously as he swipes a thumb over his bottom lip to wipe off some excess from the encounter.
but - in the interests of diplomacy, the scribe allows kaveh to guide him bonelessly back upwards, aware that the other was more emotionally fragile than he was - aware that it would be even easier for him to say or do the wrong thing in this moment than it usually was. the boundaries between them are so undefined though, and the scribe hates grey areas; so much room for misinterpretation, such a minefield.
he settles for laying on his side next to kaveh's wrung out form, elbow propping him up on the bed as he all but surveys his handiwork. the upwards curl of his lips had gone, but there's still something summarily smug about his expression. ]
[ It's unfair how, right as his eyes settle on Alhaitham's face, he catches the way the other man's throat works, the bob of his larynx as he swallows— not to mention the swipe of his thumb over his burnished lip in the next moment. It sends another jolt of pleasure right to his spent length, and if he wasn't cooling down from his third release in a too-short time, he might have found that simple act to be the spark of something all over again. But as it is, it's an image he's forced to file away in his mind for later, a hitch in his breath that leaves it short and quick as the other man moves to join him higher up on the bed.
He wants to kiss him, but Alhaitham is settling on his side and looking over him, something smug in his expression that stops Kaveh in his tracks, brings him just that little closer to reality, a reminder of the fact that the other's goal was to get him out of the bed as quickly as possible. ]
Y-Yeah. Yeah, it helped a lot.
[ And that should be all there is to it. Right? But even then, with that knowledge in his mind, he can't quite stop his eyes from skimming down over the scribe's body in answer, taking in the firm lines of his muscled abs, and then lower still to the arousal straining obvious against the soft, loose fabric of his pants. Kaveh's mouth runs dry at the sight, and if the other man is watching closely enough he may see the slight dilation of his pupils, eyes flicking back up to his face as his tongue wets his lips.
(Alhaitham is hard— For him? Or just in a natural response to what was happening in the moment between the two of them?) ]
Do you... [ and the words come out as a stutter, tasting unsure on Kaveh's lips even as ruby eyes seek emerald, a question alive in his gaze. ] Can I— May I... Will you let me help you?
[ The question is finally asked, and lithe, delicate fingers are flexing at his side, more desperate than he'll ever admit to reach out, to touch, to do something in return, wanting to see Alhaitham fall apart for him just as he fell apart for the scribe—
Maybe he's still a little disconnected from reality. ]
[ turquoise eyes maintain an even gaze on the blonde, that familiar, neutral guard firmly back up as kaveh floats the question to him he'd hoped he wouldn't ask. if the unspoken rules of their agreement were different, perhaps he'd agree - if he wasn't due back at the akademiya as soon as possible, if he could trust that further investment in this relationship without definition wouldn't result in disaster. but alhaitham is decidedly hesitant to dive into situations he's lacking context for, where he's unable to see all the moving parts and boundaries.
the more unrestrained part of his soul which repeatedly writhed its way out when he saw kaveh like this would love nothing more than to curse the sages' schedule to hell; to climb on top of the architect and take him in a way that he'd never be able to forget, that none of his nameless lovers would ever be able to live up to; to take him up on the offer to relieve the, frankly, quite distracting arousal he'd essentially cursed himself with.
but: alhaitham couldn't. for many reasons, he couldn't.
with a short sigh, the scribe shakes his head. ]
I was never included as part of this suggestion; only that I was interested in assisting you as per the needs you mentioned last time we discussed this.
[ and he thinks this is a very reasonable reply, because after all, this should demonstrate his willingness to give, correct? especially when it was something obviously causing kaveh some distress. ]
You don't need to be concerned for me. I'm due back at the Akademiya presently, anyway.
[ even though it is a very reasonable reply, he's surprised it's so hard to say. ]
[ Somehow, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, Kaveh's not expecting his offer to be turned down. Maybe it's the fact that he's still partially wrapped up in the sweet-scented fog of his afterglow. Maybe it's the fact that he can literally see for himself that Alhaitham is aroused. Or maybe it's the memory of those passionate, possessive kisses that spoke to something deeper than transaction— and he dares not look at his own body right now, but he knows without needing to it's littered with dark bruises to prove it happened.
But the scribe shakes his head, and Kaveh's mouth floods with the bitter taste of disappointment even as his brows crease, expression shifting quickly into something puzzled. ]
...Are you joking? [ There's a certain height to his tone, an indication that if it weren't for the floaty sensation of the pleasure he might have shouted the words instead, although there's less anger and more hurt in the way he speaks, something that slips through despite a weak attempt to conceal it. ] Part of what's so good about sex is reciprocation!
[ And he recalls, distantly, that part of Alhaitham's offer had been for Kaveh to see him in the same undone state... although he's starting to realize that for the scribe, it was an either-or offer, not both, and despite how good he feels— was feeling, for the sensation is quickly starting to fade in favor of that wash of bitterness and disappointment— the architect can't help but wonder if he's made the wrong choice.
He swallows the thought back, makes an irritated gesture towards the scribe's crotch. ]
Besides, how exactly do you plan to go back to the Akademiya like that?
[ Anger is the wrong emotion for this, he knows it even as the words spill over his lips. But the hurt twisting in his chest won't allow for anything else. All he can think about is how much he wants to take the other man apart, give him the same pleasure distantly (ever distantly) humming in his own veins, prove to him somehow that Alhaitham needs him in the same way he knows he needs Alhaitham. To watch those muscles tense up and flex as he winds up to the apex of his pleasure. To taste him, coax him through fulfillment, show him how good it feels to accept—
He chases the thoughts away with an exasperated internal sigh, and his crimson eyes fix challengingly on those across from him. ]
I was being perfectly serious. [ alhaitham replies coolly, unafraid to meet those ruby eyes straight back. ] There was and is no expectation of reciprocation, nor is there time.
[ briefly, the scribe wonders why the only time they could be remotely agreeable was when they were doing something physical. every instance words were involved, the two of them immediately careened towards disaster and despite being one of the foremost scholars in sumeru, for the life of him, alhaitham couldn't fucking figure out why this was always a guaranteed outcome.
knowing that, from the evidence, the longer he stays here the more upset he'll make the architect, alhaitham slowly withdraws and gets up from the bed. bending is - mmm - bending at any severe angle right now is not happening, but luckily the shirt that had been discarded had ended up at the foot of the bed rather than on the floor.
it's as he retrieves it that kaveh speaks again, alhaitham glancing back up at that indignant, confronting crimson stare - and then down at the obvious erection straining against the fabric of his pants. his expression remains perfectly neutral though, and in response, muscular shoulders shrug as he goes about turning his shirt the right way out again to put it back on. maybe, maybe if the stars and the circumstances were aligned in such a way that he wasn't on a schedule; that he could trust sleeping with kaveh wouldn't make him further hurt, or upset, or angry, he would say yes.
could say yes. but right now, it was off the table, considering it sounded as if he'd already caused the other pain. something aches dully deep inside his being, and this time he couldn't mark it down to being painfully aroused. ]
I'll be fine. [ he replies evenly, that deep voice such a contradiction to kaveh's upset. ] Meditation usually helps, and the walk back to the House is long enough.
[ There's certainly logic behind Alhaitham's words. The scribe's offer was made in the first place, after all, to help Kaveh get to the Akademiya sooner rather than later. And so it makes sense, how the other man stands from the bed and reaches for his shirt despite the arousal straining against his pants and making the architect's mouth practically water, how he plans as stated to simply meditate and walk it off, how his doing so not only allows him to get back in a timely fashion, but Kaveh as well, so that his darshan and this client don't have to wait for too much longer.
What makes no logical sense at all is the way Kaveh feels oddly used, the way he feels sick and empty when just minutes ago every part of him was comfortable and content. The way every single part of him is aching to reach out and stop the other man, pull him back to the bed and kiss and touch and feel until he's not thinking anymore; a need strong enough that his fingers are twitching, body tense with a desire to reach.
The only thing that stops him is the fact that Alhaitham has already turned him down. Kaveh isn't that kind of man.
...Nor does he want to get rejected again. ]
Then enjoy your walk. [ It's hard to keep his head high after what's just happened, but the architect somehow manages it, a certain haughtiness to his demeanor as he stands from the bed too, sets about tossing a few of the covers around to hide the worst of the evidence of his dreams and the torn threads of the coverlet. ] You can tell the darshan I'll be there shortly. I just need to clean up first.
[ The look he offers is once again challenging, as if daring the scribe to disagree with him, to try and hurry him up yet further. ]
We'll say an hour.
[ And then he turns and walks from the room without waiting for a reply. ]
[ pulling his shirt back on over his head and tugging at the bottom to straight it out over his torso once more, the scribe gets the distinct feeling that something is wrong that he can't quite put his finger on. what kaveh is saying is what he'd expect and all very reasonable considering, but there's a stiltedness to his voice that gives away something hidden; something clipped and haughty about his movements as he sets about getting ready as well.
it was a headache, trying to figure this all out. technically, alhaitham had achieved what he'd come here for, and had gotten to self-indulge at the same time - is kaveh simply upset with him because he didn't try to take something from the other? didn't try to impose?
the lithe blonde shoots him a combative look as he wraps one of the sheets around his waist and then stalks past him, the scribe unable to look away as he maps the marks he left scattered down kaveh's torso. a reply forms on his lips - something like, 'an hour isn't timely' - but he doesn't get a chance to shoot it back, the architect already having left the room. a distant semi-slam of the bathroom door confirms he'd left the conversation with finality, at least.
with a mild frown on his face, alhaitham looks over the mess they'd made of kaveh's bed - the crumpled sheets and covers, the tell-tale wet patches of release - and it's hard not to replay the images from before with perfect clarity. heaving a sigh of he-doesn't-know-what (frustration, confusion, guilt), the scribe turns on his heel and retires to his own rooms to make sure he looked presentable enough to return to the akademiya, the time already well past when he'd said he'd return.
no doubt this would come up later, somehow, like it always did. ]
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sempiternals2023-02-11 10:39 pm
no subject
those deft, artistic fingers weave into his hair and tighten in a way that only ends up making him painfully hard; inconvenient, considering he had to return to the akademiya almost straight after this, and that it would be nigh impossible to erase these erotic images from an eidetic memory with any speed either.
needless to say, he needs very little encouragement to finish what he'd initiated, though the scribe pauses for a moment in his vantage point between kaveh's legs, his own still-gloved hands running up the muscle of the architect's thighs and coming to rest at the jut of his hips.
in a commanding, low voice that's slightly hoarse in a way that could only belie the lewd things he'd been doing to kaveh, he murmurs; ]
Come for me, then.
[ - and then takes the blonde entirely in his mouth once more, resuming the relentless rhythm. he wanted to see kaveh absolutely fall apart, and for once, he wanted to be the reason for it - not some nameless person from a tavern, not some gorgeous man or woman that'd be rightfully smitten with him the moment they saw him, not anyone else.
all he wanted kaveh to think about was him. ]
no subject
Alhaitham—!
[ And he does, a strangled cry of Alhaitham's name half-smothered in his own left wrist as his hips jerk and stutter against that sinful mouth, fingers too tight and pulling at silver strands of hair in an instinctive attempt to tug him in closer, and tears of mingled pleasure and relief spring to the corners of Kaveh's tightly-shut eyes as the painful, unbearable pressure of the morning finally lessens. ]
Fuck, oh fuck... oh fuck...
[ The curse word is repeated over and over like a mantra, puffed out between desperate gasps for breath, body trembling and chest heavy and fingers unwinding themselves— and he should probably apologize for tugging on Alhaitham's hair so hard, but his brain has summarily quit working— eyes opening as he stares unseeing at the ceiling of his room.
Kaveh has been with his fair share of people over the years, but he's never experienced anything quite like this, and he's almost afraid to look back down the length of his body at the scribe once more, but he does, tongue darting out over too-dry lips as he reaches for him. In the pleasant haze of the afterglow, he's forgotten momentarily his worries about what this is, and what they are, and the fact that Alhaitham seems to think he wants something transactional; in fact, as he slowly recovers and his brain pieces itself back together, all he can think about is the fact that he wants to please the scribe in return. ]
no subject
had he enjoyed himself? resoundingly, yes. had he simply offered himself to serve a purpose? also, yes.
which makes it difficult to parse when hands shakily detangle themselves from his hair and instead reach for him, when alhaitham had already intended not to get any more involved, not to further complicate their agreement any further. there's a moment of hesitation as he pulls back slightly, mouth glistening salaciously as he swipes a thumb over his bottom lip to wipe off some excess from the encounter.
but - in the interests of diplomacy, the scribe allows kaveh to guide him bonelessly back upwards, aware that the other was more emotionally fragile than he was - aware that it would be even easier for him to say or do the wrong thing in this moment than it usually was. the boundaries between them are so undefined though, and the scribe hates grey areas; so much room for misinterpretation, such a minefield.
he settles for laying on his side next to kaveh's wrung out form, elbow propping him up on the bed as he all but surveys his handiwork. the upwards curl of his lips had gone, but there's still something summarily smug about his expression. ]
Did that help?
no subject
He wants to kiss him, but Alhaitham is settling on his side and looking over him, something smug in his expression that stops Kaveh in his tracks, brings him just that little closer to reality, a reminder of the fact that the other's goal was to get him out of the bed as quickly as possible. ]
Y-Yeah. Yeah, it helped a lot.
[ And that should be all there is to it. Right? But even then, with that knowledge in his mind, he can't quite stop his eyes from skimming down over the scribe's body in answer, taking in the firm lines of his muscled abs, and then lower still to the arousal straining obvious against the soft, loose fabric of his pants. Kaveh's mouth runs dry at the sight, and if the other man is watching closely enough he may see the slight dilation of his pupils, eyes flicking back up to his face as his tongue wets his lips.
(Alhaitham is hard— For him? Or just in a natural response to what was happening in the moment between the two of them?) ]
Do you... [ and the words come out as a stutter, tasting unsure on Kaveh's lips even as ruby eyes seek emerald, a question alive in his gaze. ] Can I— May I... Will you let me help you?
[ The question is finally asked, and lithe, delicate fingers are flexing at his side, more desperate than he'll ever admit to reach out, to touch, to do something in return, wanting to see Alhaitham fall apart for him just as he fell apart for the scribe—
Maybe he's still a little disconnected from reality. ]
no subject
the more unrestrained part of his soul which repeatedly writhed its way out when he saw kaveh like this would love nothing more than to curse the sages' schedule to hell; to climb on top of the architect and take him in a way that he'd never be able to forget, that none of his nameless lovers would ever be able to live up to; to take him up on the offer to relieve the, frankly, quite distracting arousal he'd essentially cursed himself with.
but: alhaitham couldn't. for many reasons, he couldn't.
with a short sigh, the scribe shakes his head. ]
I was never included as part of this suggestion; only that I was interested in assisting you as per the needs you mentioned last time we discussed this.
[ and he thinks this is a very reasonable reply, because after all, this should demonstrate his willingness to give, correct? especially when it was something obviously causing kaveh some distress. ]
You don't need to be concerned for me. I'm due back at the Akademiya presently, anyway.
[ even though it is a very reasonable reply, he's surprised it's so hard to say. ]
no subject
But the scribe shakes his head, and Kaveh's mouth floods with the bitter taste of disappointment even as his brows crease, expression shifting quickly into something puzzled. ]
...Are you joking? [ There's a certain height to his tone, an indication that if it weren't for the floaty sensation of the pleasure he might have shouted the words instead, although there's less anger and more hurt in the way he speaks, something that slips through despite a weak attempt to conceal it. ] Part of what's so good about sex is reciprocation!
[ And he recalls, distantly, that part of Alhaitham's offer had been for Kaveh to see him in the same undone state... although he's starting to realize that for the scribe, it was an either-or offer, not both, and despite how good he feels— was feeling, for the sensation is quickly starting to fade in favor of that wash of bitterness and disappointment— the architect can't help but wonder if he's made the wrong choice.
He swallows the thought back, makes an irritated gesture towards the scribe's crotch. ]
Besides, how exactly do you plan to go back to the Akademiya like that?
[ Anger is the wrong emotion for this, he knows it even as the words spill over his lips. But the hurt twisting in his chest won't allow for anything else. All he can think about is how much he wants to take the other man apart, give him the same pleasure distantly (ever distantly) humming in his own veins, prove to him somehow that Alhaitham needs him in the same way he knows he needs Alhaitham. To watch those muscles tense up and flex as he winds up to the apex of his pleasure. To taste him, coax him through fulfillment, show him how good it feels to accept—
He chases the thoughts away with an exasperated internal sigh, and his crimson eyes fix challengingly on those across from him. ]
no subject
[ briefly, the scribe wonders why the only time they could be remotely agreeable was when they were doing something physical. every instance words were involved, the two of them immediately careened towards disaster and despite being one of the foremost scholars in sumeru, for the life of him, alhaitham couldn't fucking figure out why this was always a guaranteed outcome.
knowing that, from the evidence, the longer he stays here the more upset he'll make the architect, alhaitham slowly withdraws and gets up from the bed. bending is - mmm - bending at any severe angle right now is not happening, but luckily the shirt that had been discarded had ended up at the foot of the bed rather than on the floor.
it's as he retrieves it that kaveh speaks again, alhaitham glancing back up at that indignant, confronting crimson stare - and then down at the obvious erection straining against the fabric of his pants. his expression remains perfectly neutral though, and in response, muscular shoulders shrug as he goes about turning his shirt the right way out again to put it back on. maybe, maybe if the stars and the circumstances were aligned in such a way that he wasn't on a schedule; that he could trust sleeping with kaveh wouldn't make him further hurt, or upset, or angry, he would say yes.
could say yes. but right now, it was off the table, considering it sounded as if he'd already caused the other pain. something aches dully deep inside his being, and this time he couldn't mark it down to being painfully aroused. ]
I'll be fine. [ he replies evenly, that deep voice such a contradiction to kaveh's upset. ] Meditation usually helps, and the walk back to the House is long enough.
no subject
What makes no logical sense at all is the way Kaveh feels oddly used, the way he feels sick and empty when just minutes ago every part of him was comfortable and content. The way every single part of him is aching to reach out and stop the other man, pull him back to the bed and kiss and touch and feel until he's not thinking anymore; a need strong enough that his fingers are twitching, body tense with a desire to reach.
The only thing that stops him is the fact that Alhaitham has already turned him down. Kaveh isn't that kind of man.
...Nor does he want to get rejected again. ]
Then enjoy your walk. [ It's hard to keep his head high after what's just happened, but the architect somehow manages it, a certain haughtiness to his demeanor as he stands from the bed too, sets about tossing a few of the covers around to hide the worst of the evidence of his dreams and the torn threads of the coverlet. ] You can tell the darshan I'll be there shortly. I just need to clean up first.
[ The look he offers is once again challenging, as if daring the scribe to disagree with him, to try and hurry him up yet further. ]
We'll say an hour.
[ And then he turns and walks from the room without waiting for a reply. ]
no subject
[ pulling his shirt back on over his head and tugging at the bottom to straight it out over his torso once more, the scribe gets the distinct feeling that something is wrong that he can't quite put his finger on. what kaveh is saying is what he'd expect and all very reasonable considering, but there's a stiltedness to his voice that gives away something hidden; something clipped and haughty about his movements as he sets about getting ready as well.
it was a headache, trying to figure this all out. technically, alhaitham had achieved what he'd come here for, and had gotten to self-indulge at the same time - is kaveh simply upset with him because he didn't try to take something from the other? didn't try to impose?
the lithe blonde shoots him a combative look as he wraps one of the sheets around his waist and then stalks past him, the scribe unable to look away as he maps the marks he left scattered down kaveh's torso. a reply forms on his lips - something like, 'an hour isn't timely' - but he doesn't get a chance to shoot it back, the architect already having left the room. a distant semi-slam of the bathroom door confirms he'd left the conversation with finality, at least.
with a mild frown on his face, alhaitham looks over the mess they'd made of kaveh's bed - the crumpled sheets and covers, the tell-tale wet patches of release - and it's hard not to replay the images from before with perfect clarity. heaving a sigh of he-doesn't-know-what (frustration, confusion, guilt), the scribe turns on his heel and retires to his own rooms to make sure he looked presentable enough to return to the akademiya, the time already well past when he'd said he'd return.
no doubt this would come up later, somehow, like it always did. ]