[ about to continue what he'd started and close the gap between them, alhaitham takes pause when crimson eyes meet his own with a true vulnerability only kaveh could muster, a question on his lips that he probably should've seen coming. it doesn't seem to throw him, however, the scribe simply looking back at him with the same seriousness as he would in any other situation.
had this really been bothering him enough to make his voice so uneasy? ]
All my attention is on you.
[ alhaitham states matter-of-factly, his tone even - although, it's really difficult not to continue touching the blonde, not to keep exploring the smooth expanse of skin under his shirt. a quiet hum escapes him at the feeling of deft hands at the small of his back, thoughts turning over in his head about what words would be best to use but plagued by distraction and the general fatigue of the evening. ]
It's not that I won't. [ he murmurs, a certainty to his voice that is perhaps a little blunt - but genuine, nonetheless. ] We've already reminisced about the beginnings and circumstances of this relationship tonight, as well as the other lesser parties who were involved. I simply didn't want to risk another misunderstanding that physicality was the only thing I was interested in.
[ an unreadable expression flickers across his face as his eyes drag over kaveh's form in an almost hungry fashion, and if there was any doubt left in the blonde's mind, surely that would start to assuage it. ]
If you're satisfied that's now the case, just say the word.
[ The words are barely out of Kaveh's mouth before he's starting to regret them, before he starts to stutter out clarifications, trying to explain that he doesn't want to push, that he only wants whatever Alhaitham is comfortable with giving him— but as always he's silenced by the other's calm, even voice, an explanation that makes so much sense that Kaveh almost wonders how he didn't see it by himself.
Almost, because he's a little busy focusing on the scribe's explanation, on the flicker of something indecipherable on his face as his eyes trace Kaveh's body, and little molten pools of heat unfurl in the architect's chest and stomach both. ]
Oh. [ It's breathed out, and for a moment it's the only thing he remembers how to say or do, focused as he is not only on the implication of that hunger in Alhaitham's eyes, but also the sincerity of his words, the thoughtfulness of his actions. His arms lock a little tighter around the other's lower back, tugging him in closer, a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth.
(And as words do start to come together in his mind again, there's space for a smart-ass quip about how he's pretty sure his satisfaction is Alhaitham's job, but they're put aside in favor of the gravity of the moment, of the flames burning him from the inside out with need and love and want alike.) ]
Now is good— [ he murmurs, coiling a leg around one of the scribe's, tangling them together in a way that lets him get closer still ] —now is perfect.
[ it might be an emotional gesture to have waited, though to alhaitham it's more pragmatic - a way to avoid the kind of upset that had dogged them both for years with their inability to see eye to eye or to communicate in ways each other would understand. but it seems that this time, this one time, he'd managed to figure out the correct way to navigate the minefield that is the feelings and perceptions of others, kaveh being one of the more complex subjects to judge.
the words of permission unlock something deep inside the scribe, flicking a switch that he'd locked off to himself since they'd agreed to see each other - and that change is reflected in his demeanor, his entire self just a little less rigid, eyes just a little more wild. it's all he needs, really, and with the slim leg slinking around his thigh, alhaitham lets out a faint guttural growl accompanied by; ]
Agreed.
[ - and then the scribe surges forward with fervor, soft touches forgotten as he soundly kisses his partner in the dim hall, illuminated only by the soft light outside. it's a powerful motion, one that belies he does very much want the other, arms slipping under kaveh's backside and bodily lifting him like he weighed nothing. at first it seems like he's simply trying to even out their height difference, but he strides forward as he carries the blonde with him, sitting him roughly up on the hall console table as books fall, the wood creaks and ceramics topple off it only to smash loudly on the floor.
he doesn't care, not now, the barrage of kisses swift and relentless like a dam bursting its banks as everything turns to heat, hitching breath and muscle under his fingers.
[ They're close enough together that Kaveh doesn't see the change reflected in Alhaitham's eyes or the shift in his demeanor, but he hears that growl, the sound answered by a sharp southward turn of that pooling heat; and when the other swoops in, he respond to that firm kiss with one of his own, his hands sliding up a little further to splay over the broad expanse of the scribe's back.
Agreed, Alhaitham says, and his voice sends shivers of want down Kaveh's spine. He's waited for this for so long.
He's not expecting to be lifted,
(and while the effortlessness of it doesn't exactly surprise him, his partner's show of strength does have him utter out some small, throaty sound of pleasure)
nor is he expecting to be sat on the console table, the sudden smashing of ceramic on the floor making him startle, the thump of books following eliciting a breathless laugh into that chasing, pressing mouth. ] Alhaitham, your books— [ he says, or tries to say, the words captured by those kisses and stolen away. And then it stops mattering, Kaveh's attention almost entirely on the feel of that body crowding him into the table, on the feel of lips assaulting his own in the best of ways, the faint taste of wine on the scribe's breath and the heady scent of his cologne making him feel drunk with desire.
His hands untangle, finding their way to Alhaitham's front, red-painted nails catching on the lower hem of his shirt to push it upward, baring inch after inch of muscled skin with a hurried drag of his fingertips. He breaks the flurry of kisses for as long (too long) as it takes to pull the stained lined up and over that silver head of hair, tossing it carelessly aside to join the ceramics and books and whatever else may have previously been on this table before he replaced it.
And then he joins his mouth to the scribe's again, pausing only for a molten-eyed look at the other's bare torso. His fingers will do most of the work mapping it for him anyway. ]
Read them already, [ he breathes dismissively, truly unconcerned for the tomes that now laid scattered on the hall floor among the shards of broken pottery. perhaps it was the first time in his life he'd eschewed a book, but it was extremely difficult to care or concentrate on anything else when kaveh was making such delicious sounds against his mouth and deftly trying to divest him of his shirt. assisting in the endeavour by straightening his torso up just enough for the blonde to tug it off and discard it on the floor, alhaitham wastes no time in diving straight back in and similarly pulling up at the crimson silk of kaveh's own top.
unlike how he normally carries himself - fluid, cool, collected - there's a hasty, raw edge to the scribe's actions as he manages to slip the shirt over the blonde's head and drop it to the hallway floor with equal carelessness. after so long, so long of restraining himself, of wanting, of waiting, being parted from the other for even a moment seems like an age, the desire emphasised by the swiftness with which he dives back in.
large hands sink into golden hair as alhaitham connects their lips with a passion that he's otherwise not known to possess, his touch almost greedy as fingers on one side travel searchingly down kaveh's bare side to stop briefly at the jut of his hipbone. his famous control has already slipped away for the second time this evening, and while it's not the same kind of emotion that had unleashed at the scholar earlier that night, it's stil new to him - overwhelming, all-encompassing, but unlike the anger?
this loss of logical boundary was thrilling. arousing.
teeth graze kaveh's bottom lip as the scribe unashamedly drops his travelling hand lower to the junction of the architect's legs, palming him firmly through the fabric of his black leggings. ]
A bed or the hallway, [ he murmurs in a breathless, graveled tone against kaveh's kiss-reddened lips. ] Your choice.
[ On any regular day, of course, Kaveh would likely be complaining under his breath at the other man, something about how read or not, he's liable to be the one that winds up cleaning them off the floor; he's quickly finding though that he would happily clean up any number of the scribe's messes if their creation is anything like this. (Besides, this one at least is both of theirs, isn't it?)
And so Alhaitham's dismissal of the books is met with another breathy laugh, the blonde aiding in the removal of his shirt before he chases the mouth descending once more on his, rewarding the searching touch of his partner's fingers down his side with another low sound into the kiss. His own fingers paint elegant patterns over firm muscle, a graze of their tips over the sensitive peaks, and Kaveh is halfway into a decision to pinch when his thoughts are overwhelmed by the sensation of a hand dipping firm between his legs, the sound he makes too loud as his hips lift unbidden into the movements.
He's going to be hard in record time, at this rate. Biologists could study the effect Alhaitham has on his body—
Husky words against his lips bring him back to reality from those thoughts, his eyes opening to consider them— and Alhaitham— for the briefest of moments. As much as he doesn't want to move from here, as much as the thought of separating for long enough to get to a bed is almost painful, Kaveh of course is a romantic at heart, and he doesn't want their first time together to be on a console table with shattered ceramics at their feet.
So he brushes a softer kiss against the scribe's lips, one hand stilled over his heart and the other at his waist, a matching breathlessness in his voice as he replies: ]
[ there's very little pause between kaveh verbally making his choice and alhaitham taking action, the scribe punctuating their parting with a kiss much more forceful than the one softly placed on his own lips. in a swift movement, the taller man bends slightly to slip one arm underneath kaveh's knees and the other around his back, picking him up in a bridal carry as easily as if he were a sack of feathers. the electricity in the air remains as alhaitham extracts them from the hallway's destruction and carries his partner through the darkened house directly to the scribe's own bedroom - partly because it's closer, but also partly because he doesn't want any of the other more unpleasant memories that had surfaced tonight to come up again. the entrance to kaveh's bedroom still lacked a door, and that in itself was a reminder of the mess that had transpired there that night.
tonight, he doesn't blast down his own but he certainly bodily shoves it with his shoulder, his hands (gladly) full with an intoxicatingly beautiful shirtless man. the wood judders briefly in complaint as alhaitham sweeps into the room, only stopping once they reach the edge of his bed so that he could put the other down onto the mattress - maybe just slightly less gentle than he intends, because, hm. he's not in a rush, per se, but his mind is absolutely clouded by kaveh right now, the product of years entertaining the ghosts of indulgent thoughts that something like this could possibly happen between them. since they'd crossed paths in the akademiya, since they'd spent countless nights arguing to bitter non-conclusions on their research paper, since they'd separated and he'd found himself wondering just a little more than he thought was normal, 'how is kaveh doing?'.
so that's why alhaitham is all unbridled strength and barely restrained force, because he knows the blonde is sensitive and fragile - but seeing him splayed out like this on the freshly-made linens of his bed, just barely illuminated by the dim lights outside? it's doing carnal things to him, arousal already evident as he climbs on top of kaveh's lithe form, thighs on the outside of the architect's own legs.
- and despite the instinct that's pounding in his veins to keep going without a second's delay, alhaitham pauses for a seemingly long moment, gaze taking in the form beneath him with a look that's both appreciative and darkly wolfish. ]
To think I didn't want you, [ he breathes, his voice little more than a husky growl. ] Ridiculous.
[ 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. ]
[ there's a quiet, breathy chuckle as the blonde yanks him downwards, the ghost of a laugh so alien on alhaitham's normally neutral voice. ]
Impatient, as always.
[ the scribe murmurs lowly into the soft skin of kaveh's jaw, his head cocking to the side for better access as he showers kisses down his neck with the barest graze of teeth. along his jugular, across the fine arc of his collarbone, alhaitham is taking his time even though his blood is humming in his veins as furiously as kaveh's is, even though they'd both (apparently) been waiting so long for this - though, he could only speak for himself. the last time he'd gotten to map the blonde's svelte body had been in the midst of a misunderstanding, and although there's a loud and very convincing part of him that desires nothing more than to flip kaveh roughly into the mattress and take him right now?
he's trying to do it right, especially when he'd seen his partner fall into the arms of so many who'd done it wrong. people that hadn't been worthy to touch him, people that weren't alhaitham, people that he'd had to watch come and go all the while ignorant of how much he'd desired to take their place.
so he's slow and gentle even if it's obvious he's holding himself back, hands firm but careful as they travel down the skin of kaveh's chest alongside the kisses he leaves. a practical pause as he reaches the architect's navel and straightens up slightly only to twist around to tug the blonde's flat shoes off and discard them on the ground with a clatter, then repeating the action with his own (unfortunately, much higher) boots.
his hips lower flush against kaveh's own in a very intentional way as alhaitham yanks his own boots off - which would be argued that he simply needs the angle, but really, it's the intoxicating friction of their arousals meeting that he craves, and the delicious sounds that pour out of the other every time he does it.
freer now and divested of some of the things getting in his way, the scribe returns to what he was doing - working his way down his partner's body with the expressed intention of removing the rest of his clothes. ]
[ The scolding, delivered on the tail of that breathy chuckle, makes Kaveh grumble— of course he's impatient, he's been waiting for this for far too long— even as the amused sound sends a delightful sensation tripping down his spine. And it's an impatience that only grows as Alhaitham's kisses rain down on his throat, his collarbones, paired with a grazing of teeth that makes him twitch, has him arching every part of him into the ministrations as heat pools between his legs.
He's going to go crazy, he thinks, wants to complain about it too but there's something so deliberate in the scribe's actions that Kaveh can tell it's a struggle for him too, can see the effort with which he's holding himself back from simply throwing the architect down and having his way with him—
(although, oh, that's a nice thought too, isn't it?) ]
No— [ Is the soft-voiced protest when Alhaitham pulls back, the corners of his lips folding into a pout even though he understands the practicality of the movement; a breathless groan parts them when hips press flush to his, and Kaveh's hands reach once more, a new grip on either side of his partner's hips, holding him steady— and maybe tugging him a little closer— as the other's hands travel down over his body.
And there's a part of him tempted to lie back and enjoy it, to let Alhaitham take him to pieces the way he has in the past, to allow himself to indulge in sensations he's wanted for too long. But Kaveh has the reputation he does for a reason, and even with that instinct burning in his gut, the greater desire is to take the other man to pieces too, to show in actions the feelings he's spoken in words. To leave proof that Alhaitham is his.
He leans, arches, head canting to find an angle that allows him to slot his head under his partner's jaw, mouth finding purchase on his throat and bullying the skin with tongue and teeth. First one, then another, red blooming to the surface of the other's pale skin in a way he knows will purple delightfully later.
Even with those stupidly high collars you wear— [ he mumbles, not entirely realizing he's speaking aloud, ] —people are gonna see this. They'll know you're mine.
[ the intermittent sensations of kaveh's lips and teeth against his neck make the scribe let out an involuntary hiss of pleasure, momentarily distracting him from what he was doing and forcing his fingers to curl tightly into those slim hips in response.
looking sidelong at the blonde through hooded eyes; ]
Oh? Is that important to you? [ alhaitham muses, not about to let anything slip past, even in the heat of the moment. ] You're the one who's always the center of attention, though - it'd be more prudent for me to mark you, don't you think?
[ as a continuation of that thought, a hand slips into kaveh's golden hair and tightens just a fraction - not nearly enough to hurt, but enough to tip his head back to give alhaitham access to the soft skin of his neck. there's barely a pause between him gaining an angle and a similar assault being wreaked on that sensitive spot, though the scribe takes the ministration one step further, other hand travelling downwards and closing firmly around kaveh's length.
with each mark, so too does he gently squeeze, dancing the line between the sharpness of teeth and the distraction of pleasure. alhaitham wants to watch him fall apart - and yes, a bonus of that would be for the world to know that the blonde is his. ]
Perhaps I should've done this before the function tonight, [ he continues somewhat breathlessly, the lust in his own blood beginning to get the better of even the scribe's stony façade. ] - all those people you were surrounded by, all of the scholars enraptured by you - they'd all know, know that you belonged to me.
[ Of course it's important to him. In fact, for a moment, it's all Kaveh can do to fix Alhaitham with a quizzical expression, disbelief gleaming in his eyes at the question. How could it not be important? As much as the scribe might not see it, his recent exploits have awarded him a certain level of popularity, and Kaveh loathes the thought that anyone might think to try and catch his attention, to take him away from the one person who loves wants needs him the most.
Perhaps much, much later down the line, Kaveh's usually very highly-functioning emotional intelligence will allow him to connect the dots between those two things, between the clingy, needy jealousy he feels and the possessive dominance in Alhaitham's actions. But as for right now, he's not thinking of that, still somewhat caught off-guard and bemused, a state that doesn't improve when long fingers tighten in his hair and tug his head back, tugging him away from the flushed marks he's left on pale skin and baring his own throat instead.
The sound he makes in response to the action is embarrassing, but not nearly as much as the strangled moan that escapes him in the very next moment when lips find his throat in time with that hand squeezing around him, in answer to the breathless, husky words murmured into his skin.
(Archons, it's unfair how quickly Alhaitham turns the tables on him, takes all semblance of sense away from him and leaves him arching and desperate and gasping for more.) ]
Do it... mn, do it before the next one then. Make it actually worth your while to go. [ Kaveh chuckles, fingers coiling into Alhaitham's hair and holding him close, hips arching as breathless moans meet the darkness of the room. His other hand falls to the younger's arm, grounding and steadying himself as he tries— and largely fails— to gather even some sense against the onslaught. ] Let them all see...
[ He's not quite sure why the idea is so arousing, but it is. ]
Oh, believe me, [ alhaitham murmurs in a tone that suggests he's absolutely serious, ] I will.
[ not just because he strangely feels the need to prove it if tonight was anything to go by, but kaveh's right - it would certainly add some intrigue to an otherwise extremely dull affair. ever since they'd known each other, the scribe had been innately aware of how closely eyes followed kaveh around wherever he went and how easily others would gravitate to him regardless of context, even alhaitham, who famously gravitated to no-one. but perhaps this new relationship of theirs is changing things, more thoroughly bothering him when he can frequently observe oversteps, stolen touches, honeyed words directed at his partner -
so, in a logical sense, perhaps it was a good idea to draw a metaphorical line in the sand.
however - even logical argument is hazy in the scribe's mind right now, driven to distraction by the beautiful, breathy sounds escaping kaveh's lips and the angular grind of the blonde's hips into his own. the man underneath him hits just the right spot and makes alhaitham's deep voice hitch, fingers momentarily tangling further in that long hair as all reasonable thought flies out the window.
it only serves to further spur an already comparatively riled up scribe into further action, only half-disentangling himself (mm, the contact was too enjoyable) to start undoing the buttons of kaveh's dress pants with one hand. raising his head from the crook of his partner's neck as he does so, there's an indescribable expression on his face as alhaitham brushes his lips against kaveh's own kiss-reddened ones, carnal and intensely serious.
in a low voice, not quite as measured as he usually manages; ]
[ Alhaitham's tone sends a tremble down Kaveh's spine, makes his bare toes curl at the thoughts that surface so easily in his mind, the idea of those eyes following him as he and his partner make their way across the floor of whatever event they might be attending, landing on the scattered marks across his throat, burning with jealousy, the knowledge that the one person who won't ever look at them looks instead at him... ]
Archons—
[ It's a murmur on his lips that he doesn't even realize has been spoken aloud, a response to the hitch in Alhaitham's voice, the tangle of fingers in his hair that tells him he's found just the right place to arch and press and grind.
And if it weren't for the way his partner immediately starts to untangle them, the way one hand drops to start working his pants open, Kaveh would probably continue those motions in an effort to hear more of those sounds— he's learning fast that there's nothing quite as delicious as Alhaitham's loss of control— but instead he's left to look into those darkly serious eyes, to meet those lips with a trembling smile on his own.
Alhaitham speaks, and Kaveh answers with a sharp inhale, instinct showing his enthusiasm with a more insistent press of his mouth, all tongue and teeth and hot breath before he finds the right words amongst the jumble, pulls them free to speak. ]
Yes. Please. Please, Alhaitham.
[ His hands dip between the press of their bodies, one echoing his partner's actions and working at the buttons of the scribe's dress pants, the other finally allowing itself the boon Kaveh has dreamed of for too long now and cupping over the swell of Alhaitham's arousal, palm grinding and rubbing at him through the fabric.
(And gods, if he wasn't so excited, he might be nervous.) ]
[ 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); ]
[ 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 it— 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. ]
[ the response he gets to his statement is more than satisfying, the breathy groan half-smothered by their kiss such a wanton sound that it almost makes alhaitham forget himself, what his current task was, what he needed to focus on (which should be not making a mess, but the scribe doesn't give a shit at this point). on the contrary, making a mess seems very desirable at the moment, especially if it's making one of the blonde pressed flush against him, all hooded eyes, hitched breath and blushed skin.
the pure filth their kisses had devolved into coupled with the fact that kaveh is - as always - a frustratingly attractive vision dimly reminds alhaitham that his restraint is dissolving, especially as the architect's hands travel over his body, across muscle, fingers and the edge of nails digging in all the same. the desire this entire evening had evoked was pooling dangerously at his core to point it was getting hard to control, and every time a moan escapes kaveh's kiss-swollen lips, it serves to drag alhaitham just a little closer to the edge.
for a man whose actions were normally rigid, considered, purposeful, his motions have more of a raw, instinctual edge to them as the scribe manages to manipulate the vial in his hand well enough to slick both his fingers and his own length in hastened movements, the glass bottle then tossed carelessly towards the night-stand next to the bed. sharing much the same fate as the vase out in the hallway, it rolls off and clatters noisily against the floor, the shrill sound falling on deaf ears as alhaitham soundly kisses his partner once again.
the action is timed exactly with his digits gently entering kaveh, his touch gentle and much slower, much more measured than anything else he'd done in the last half an hour - because for the impulsive desire to forge straight ahead, it's leagues more important that the other is treated properly, with respect, with care, with affection.
alhaitham knows he's still rusty at the last quantifier, but as his knees dig into the mattress either side of kaveh, as his fingers slowly, methodically work him in a way that's pleasure first and functionality second; he idly hopes that the blonde still sees it anyway. ]
[ It's overwhelming, almost, the way each and every one of his senses focuses acutely on Alhaitham and the events unfolding between the pair of them. There's the occasional noises his partner makes into their kisses, the panting breaths stolen with each break of their lips, the sharp sound of wet, of skin on skin as the scribe's oiled fingers slick his length, and then the building note of fingers working oil into him, lewd sounds matching his gasped moans despite Alhaitham's slow and careful movements.
The sensation of feeling is equally powerful, leaving Kaveh's hips writhing and arching into the pleasure those fingers spark between his legs, to answer that sound kiss with one of his own even as his lips tremble under the ministrations. The other's fingers work him open better than anyone else's ever have, obvious in the way he's exploring for pleasure's sake more than function's, Kaveh's lips parting to whimper helpless cries.
The air is scented with a mix of rich oil and sweat, the same salt he can taste mingling with the wine taste lingering in Alhaitham's mouth. And when his eyes open, the shape over the younger settled over him in the dim light, eyes fixed on him in return, is all he can see. It's all overwhelming to the point of almost being too much, and yet Kaveh won't let himself block any of it out. This is what he's wanted, needed, dreamed about...
Yet it's so much better than any dream. And if he's not careful, if he doesn't find a way to hold himself back—
With a soft, sharp gasp, Kaveh lifts a hand to curl it around the base of his own length, not stroking to seek pleasure, but wrapping tight, holding, even as his own hips arch against himself in protest, as a soft whimper surfaces on his mouth. The sudden pull of achingly desperate muscles is almost too much, but surely worth it if it stops him from tripping headlong into orgasm so soon— Especially when Alhaitham has been so attentive that he can't be sure he'd keep going after the fact.
And so temporary torment it is, Kaveh's moans soft and strained as his hips arch against Alhaitham's searching fingers and his own prohibitive hold. ]
[ for two people infamous for having plenty to say to one another, their back-and-forth barbed banter had fallen by the wayside some time ago in exchange for hitched breaths and a litany of pleasured noises. what had once been a pair of polar opposites was now perfectly in sync, as if alhaitham knew exactly what he needed to do to unravel kaveh under his touch, what he needs to whisper to make those crimson eyes spark with desire. a million miles away, maybe the scribe is wondering if they should've done this sooner if he'd known it'd contribute so greatly to their, mm - mutual understanding - but also largely because the scene playing out before him was absolutely enrapturing.
the hand kaveh sneaks between them grazes the skin on alhaitham's abdomen on the way to its destination and even that much touch makes large fingers on his free hand curl into the sheets with the electricity it sends down to his core. the scribe subscribes to realism above most other schools of thought, and judging by the flush on kaveh's face and the arch of his hips against his own touch, against alhaitham's fingers sinking deep into him - this would likely not last long. perhaps some small relief on the taller man's part, too, considering he was well aware that his own stamina was hinging on a short fuse; watching kaveh splayed out before him, hyper-responsive to his touch was infuriatingly attractive, and his own erection strained almost painfully at the torture of having to wait.
unlike kaveh, alhaitham was no social butterfly and had far less frequent sexual encounters - especially of late, considering the avalanche of work that had surrounded the akademiya's drama and the general lack of interest in anyone that wasn't an argumentative blonde. it had been a while, and it probably shows.
it only takes minimal rearranging to withdraw his fingers and replace them with his length pressing up insistently against kaveh's entrance in a motion more fluid than he should be able to manage right now, a heated turquoise gaze seeking out approval before proceeding any further. thankfully - approval is very much abundant in the both of them at this point, barely hanging on to control, and the scribe wastes no time in sinking himself slowly in to the hilt, eyes slipping closed and brow furrowing as he bites back a carnal groan.
only when he's settled, is sure kaveh's adjusted, that the architect is comfortable, do those piercing eyes open again, looking his partner directly in the eyes as his lips ghost over in an echo of a kiss; ]
Say it. [ he murmurs lowly, voice more obviously frayed than perhaps it had ever sounded in kaveh's presence. ] Say it: you're mine.
[ The momentary look on Alhaitham's face, when Kaveh's searching hand accidentally brushes against his skin, is something that sends a delighted shudder down the elder's spine, even though he doesn't actually see the way the other man is forced to grip into the sheets. The blonde is already reasonably sure that he won't last long, and to have Alhaitham look like that— mm, it's not helpful, no matter how much he might like it. His fingers curl a little tighter, a keening gasp on his red, kiss-swollen lips, hips arching against the fingers pressing deep into him.
Really, his own stamina should be more impressive than this, shouldn't it, given his relative body count? And yet just like the last time he shared a bed with Alhaitham, no matter how temporarily, Kaveh finds himself taken completely to pieces by each and every touch, ready to fall apart even before they're joined.
Something, perhaps, to think about once he has brain power beyond desire.
A whine surfaces in his mouth when those fingers withdraw, another at the pause that stretches between them as Alhaitham's length presses against but not into, at the burning look in those eyes— a pause just long enough that Kaveh's lips part to offer a complaint, although the first syllable of it shudders immediately into a low, wanton moan as the other man breaches, sinks against him until their skin is flush. He desperately wants to watch, to see the expressions of pleasure play out over Alhaitham's face, but his own eyes flutter closed in turn, hips arching into the slow movement. ]
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
[ As much as he wants his lover to start moving already, the adjustment period he's allowed his probably for the best, because Kaveh finds himself panting harsh breaths into the space between them; his eyes, when they open, are wide, pupils blown. And when Alhaitham's mouth finds his, lips stealing over lips between the murmur of words, the fragmented segments of conscious thought take too long to piece the words together— say what, he thinks, doesn't understand, but then the other clarifies and a pleased tremble passes viscerally through his body. ]
Yes. [ Kaveh can't resist the urge to unwind the tight hold of his fingers, both hands lifting to cup Alhaitham's face, returning the kiss more firmly, his breath sharp and short. ] I'm yours, Alhaitham. Always— I always have been, it's always been you—
[ He cuts himself off before he can start to ramble, his hips making a sharp short lift against the other man's, the desperation clear in his eyes when he pulls back from their kiss. ]
[ the hands on his face, the delicious, constricting heat around him and the words falling from kaveh's lips are almost too much for the scribe, fingers tightening so hard into the sheets that his nails almost threaten to tear the fabric. for a moment, it looks as if he's collecting himself, trying to catch his breathing down to a more measured rhythm as the blonde mumbles words he didn't realise he'd been waiting to hear against his mouth.
it seems as if he's almost there, when kaveh lifts his hips without warning, pushing them so impossibly close - and alhaitham's eyes snap back open as restraint breaks like a twig inside him, a smouldering look on his face that suggests that 'waiting' was the absolute last thing on his mind.
one muscular arm fists into the mattress to support his weight and the other travels to the angular jut of kaveh's hip, a large hand gripping it firmly to give alhaitham purchase, force and a proper angle, one guaranteed to make the other see nothing but stars. there's only enough pause for the scribe to whisper dangerously against the blonde's raw lips, voice strained; ]
I would never.
[ and then the scribe moves, setting a pace right from the outset that's perhaps quicker than it should be, more forceful than it should be, but for all the selfishness, jealousy and possessiveness that still thrummed in his veins from the rest of the evening's activities, it's unsurprising that alhaitham is this kind of lover.
his eyes never leave kaveh's stunning form as he slides in - and out - his own breath ragged and catching at how perfect his partner looks, how perfect he feels - and with a growl, the scribe is aware that he's not going to last long watching such an exquisitely lewd scene. one that had only played in alhaitham's mind when it idled into self-indulgence; one that he had never particularly thought would manifest in this reality.
in between satisfied hisses, he manages to grit out; ]
[ The promise in Alhaitham's voice liquifies him all over again, hips arching once again into the other's— urging, demanding— and stuttering in time with his breath when the scribe starts to move in earnest. His pace and force might be too much, should be too much when Kaveh's only just adjusted to him, when he's more than the blonde has ever taken before, but the architect welcomes him with a chorus of strangled, lyrical moans, sharper than ever before in response to the new angle, the repetition of movement against that one spot—
And see stars Kaveh does, the whole of his back arching high now as one hand drops between them once again, hovering at his own hip, torn between the urge to take himself in hand once again, to make it last longer, or to keep touching, to let them crest the wave as quickly as it wants to fall.
Because oh, if it's like this he's going to make quite a pathetic showing. ]
Yes— yes, always—
[ And so much for not rambling, because Kaveh finds himself continuing, words snatched into the spaces between his moans, voice breathless and broken in answer to those firm, fast thrusts, his own falling to meet the younger's effort as the sharp sound of skin on skin fills the room. (Never mind that the words barely make any sense.) ]
Didn't realize it back then, but of course— I saw you, later we talked, saw you working too, worked and then there was more time and... and even through the fight, I— fuck, Alhaitham—
[ A particularly sharp movement on his lover's behalf make's Kaveh's decision for him, fingers forming a tight circle around his length yet again, a desperate, breathy whine on his lips. They've only just started, it's too soon for it to end, and yet he's embarrassingly close to the edge. ]
[ alhaitham has never considered himself a particularly sentimental individual, but the words kaveh is biting out in-between moans and the scribe's own thrusts - words that make half-sense, incomplete sentences of admission - are doing something to him. his mind, normally a formidable fortress of logic and practicality, is currently in ruins so the 'why' is difficult to pin down, especially since he's currently hilt deep in heat so pleasurable it almost tempts out noises louder than his breathless groans.
sure, he'd laid with other men and women over the past few years - always one night, always at the other's suggestion, always as a kind of 'reward' for having the audacity to make such a daring request (and then the mutual benefit that followed) - but none of those encounters came even close to this, to kaveh's hooded crimson eyes gazing up at him in desperation, to his fingers dancing against his abs as he grabs at himself between them.
it'd be easy to conclude it was simply the blonde's ridiculous beauty, considering how easily it turned heads and caused eyes to wander, demonstrated even in their professional setting earlier that night - but it was more than that. it was something satisfying in the admissions that spill from kaveh's lips as the scribe works to undo him right down to his core, that he'd always had his eyes on alhaitham, just as alhaitham had always had his eyes on him.
it's almost too much, an overload of both emotional and physical feedback he's completely unaccustomed to, and judging by the way his partner was gripping his own arousal, alhaitham figures they're both going to tumble over the edge of this cliff sooner rather than later anyway. too much, too much, kaveh was always too much in all the annoying and all the right ways, the only person who'd ever crossed his path that could even remotely make him feel something like this -
and with a choked groan of pleasure, the scribe hastens his pace as his movements become slightly more haphazard. if he's going down, he's bodily dragging kaveh with him regardless of how much the blonde is attempting to stave it off. in a breathless, carnal growl; ]
Tell me more, [ the scribe commands, his intense gaze unwavering despite everything, continually seeking out those helplessly honest ruby eyes. ] Tell me how much you want me - how much you need me -
[ With what little functioning brainpower he has left, Kaveh is torn; he wants half to summon the strength needed to lean up, close the space between their lips and kiss Alhaitham soundly once more, but wants half to stay where he is, half-lidded eyes fixed on the other man's face, taking pleasure in the somehow-steady intensity written over that expression.
He settles in the end for extending the connection between them; Kaveh's free hand drops from the touch he's kept at Alhaitham's cheek, the need driving him more than conscious thought as his fingers seek out his lover's shoulder and skim over muscled biceps, the sinewy forearms, finding the large hand curled into the sheets and wrapping around it, a vague attempt to tangle their fingers together.
The other hand stays wrapped tight around his base, trying to stave off the pressure he can feel building, growing more and more unbearable with each and every movement the younger man makes, each choked off sound that reaches his ears—
and Kaveh wants to tell Alhaitham to use his voice, to let him hear him, but his lips are already parting in answer to the scribe's demands, the words molten in his spine, words broken by gasps made in response to the growing speed and irregularity of Alhaitham's movements. ]
I've— so many nights— lost sleep, dreaming... fucking myself and pretending it was— fuck, Alhaitham, you're... you're big, can't ever— can't match this myself, no one else, you're the only— I need... I love— I—
[ He cuts himself off with a sharp, keening moan, a sound almost anguished as orgasm takes him despite the attempt he's made to prevent it, body arching sharply as his muscles tense for that singular moment before he falls completely apart; and despite himself his eyes fall shut, ragged breaths ghosting over his lips, body twitching and trembling.
Conscious thought is something of which he's currently not capable, but later he'll be left to wonder at the power by which he's been so thoroughly taken apart. ]
[ it's only fragments of sentences and sentiments that kaveh manages to get out, but each one leaves alhaitham to finish the thought in his mind, each admission, each declaration adding to the short-circuiting overwhelm that's overtaking the taller man as lithe fingers seek out his own. he doesn't even think about it as he tangles their hands together in a desperate grip, palms slick with the sweat of exertion but the connection keeping them at least somewhat grounded as they hurtle towards completion, the rest of the world falling away in a stuttered motion to nothing.
kaveh tips the scales first, his musical voice petering out into a vulgar moan as he tightens around alhaitham and almost immediately drags him off the precipice with him. despite the scribe being rather vocally restrained throughout his entire endeavour, the force with which his orgasm hits him is so hard that he all but bites back a choked roar, muscular body tensing up and causing him to hunch over as he struggles to catch his breath. silver hair presses into the crook of the blonde's neck as alhaitham's form stutters against his partner, riding out the wave hilt deep in the most confronting pleasure he'd ever known -
the how, the why, both things that his analytical mind already innately understands and has kept from him for far too long, incomprehensible to him anyway at this point in time -
and slowly, slowly, they start to come down again.
it feels dangerous to shift them in the immediacy afterwards, like the smallest movement would enable the blonde underneath him to deconstruct him all over again, so for a moment - perhaps the first in their history - alhaitham simply does the favour of not saying anything at all, instead pressing a rough-edged kiss to the angle of kaveh's jaw.
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sempiternals2023-02-11 10:39 pm
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had this really been bothering him enough to make his voice so uneasy? ]
All my attention is on you.
[ alhaitham states matter-of-factly, his tone even - although, it's really difficult not to continue touching the blonde, not to keep exploring the smooth expanse of skin under his shirt. a quiet hum escapes him at the feeling of deft hands at the small of his back, thoughts turning over in his head about what words would be best to use but plagued by distraction and the general fatigue of the evening. ]
It's not that I won't. [ he murmurs, a certainty to his voice that is perhaps a little blunt - but genuine, nonetheless. ] We've already reminisced about the beginnings and circumstances of this relationship tonight, as well as the other lesser parties who were involved. I simply didn't want to risk another misunderstanding that physicality was the only thing I was interested in.
[ an unreadable expression flickers across his face as his eyes drag over kaveh's form in an almost hungry fashion, and if there was any doubt left in the blonde's mind, surely that would start to assuage it. ]
If you're satisfied that's now the case, just say the word.
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Almost, because he's a little busy focusing on the scribe's explanation, on the flicker of something indecipherable on his face as his eyes trace Kaveh's body, and little molten pools of heat unfurl in the architect's chest and stomach both. ]
Oh. [ It's breathed out, and for a moment it's the only thing he remembers how to say or do, focused as he is not only on the implication of that hunger in Alhaitham's eyes, but also the sincerity of his words, the thoughtfulness of his actions. His arms lock a little tighter around the other's lower back, tugging him in closer, a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth.
(And as words do start to come together in his mind again, there's space for a smart-ass quip about how he's pretty sure his satisfaction is Alhaitham's job, but they're put aside in favor of the gravity of the moment, of the flames burning him from the inside out with need and love and want alike.) ]
Now is good— [ he murmurs, coiling a leg around one of the scribe's, tangling them together in a way that lets him get closer still ] —now is perfect.
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the words of permission unlock something deep inside the scribe, flicking a switch that he'd locked off to himself since they'd agreed to see each other - and that change is reflected in his demeanor, his entire self just a little less rigid, eyes just a little more wild. it's all he needs, really, and with the slim leg slinking around his thigh, alhaitham lets out a faint guttural growl accompanied by; ]
Agreed.
[ - and then the scribe surges forward with fervor, soft touches forgotten as he soundly kisses his partner in the dim hall, illuminated only by the soft light outside. it's a powerful motion, one that belies he does very much want the other, arms slipping under kaveh's backside and bodily lifting him like he weighed nothing. at first it seems like he's simply trying to even out their height difference, but he strides forward as he carries the blonde with him, sitting him roughly up on the hall console table as books fall, the wood creaks and ceramics topple off it only to smash loudly on the floor.
he doesn't care, not now, the barrage of kisses swift and relentless like a dam bursting its banks as everything turns to heat, hitching breath and muscle under his fingers.
now is perfect. ]
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Agreed, Alhaitham says, and his voice sends shivers of want down Kaveh's spine. He's waited for this for so long.
He's not expecting to be lifted,
(and while the effortlessness of it doesn't exactly surprise him, his partner's show of strength does have him utter out some small, throaty sound of pleasure)
nor is he expecting to be sat on the console table, the sudden smashing of ceramic on the floor making him startle, the thump of books following eliciting a breathless laugh into that chasing, pressing mouth. ] Alhaitham, your books— [ he says, or tries to say, the words captured by those kisses and stolen away. And then it stops mattering, Kaveh's attention almost entirely on the feel of that body crowding him into the table, on the feel of lips assaulting his own in the best of ways, the faint taste of wine on the scribe's breath and the heady scent of his cologne making him feel drunk with desire.
His hands untangle, finding their way to Alhaitham's front, red-painted nails catching on the lower hem of his shirt to push it upward, baring inch after inch of muscled skin with a hurried drag of his fingertips. He breaks the flurry of kisses for as long (too long) as it takes to pull the stained lined up and over that silver head of hair, tossing it carelessly aside to join the ceramics and books and whatever else may have previously been on this table before he replaced it.
And then he joins his mouth to the scribe's again, pausing only for a molten-eyed look at the other's bare torso. His fingers will do most of the work mapping it for him anyway. ]
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unlike how he normally carries himself - fluid, cool, collected - there's a hasty, raw edge to the scribe's actions as he manages to slip the shirt over the blonde's head and drop it to the hallway floor with equal carelessness. after so long, so long of restraining himself, of wanting, of waiting, being parted from the other for even a moment seems like an age, the desire emphasised by the swiftness with which he dives back in.
large hands sink into golden hair as alhaitham connects their lips with a passion that he's otherwise not known to possess, his touch almost greedy as fingers on one side travel searchingly down kaveh's bare side to stop briefly at the jut of his hipbone. his famous control has already slipped away for the second time this evening, and while it's not the same kind of emotion that had unleashed at the scholar earlier that night, it's stil new to him - overwhelming, all-encompassing, but unlike the anger?
this loss of logical boundary was thrilling. arousing.
teeth graze kaveh's bottom lip as the scribe unashamedly drops his travelling hand lower to the junction of the architect's legs, palming him firmly through the fabric of his black leggings. ]
A bed or the hallway, [ he murmurs in a breathless, graveled tone against kaveh's kiss-reddened lips. ] Your choice.
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And so Alhaitham's dismissal of the books is met with another breathy laugh, the blonde aiding in the removal of his shirt before he chases the mouth descending once more on his, rewarding the searching touch of his partner's fingers down his side with another low sound into the kiss. His own fingers paint elegant patterns over firm muscle, a graze of their tips over the sensitive peaks, and Kaveh is halfway into a decision to pinch when his thoughts are overwhelmed by the sensation of a hand dipping firm between his legs, the sound he makes too loud as his hips lift unbidden into the movements.
He's going to be hard in record time, at this rate. Biologists could study the effect Alhaitham has on his body—
Husky words against his lips bring him back to reality from those thoughts, his eyes opening to consider them— and Alhaitham— for the briefest of moments. As much as he doesn't want to move from here, as much as the thought of separating for long enough to get to a bed is almost painful, Kaveh of course is a romantic at heart, and he doesn't want their first time together to be on a console table with shattered ceramics at their feet.
So he brushes a softer kiss against the scribe's lips, one hand stilled over his heart and the other at his waist, a matching breathlessness in his voice as he replies: ]
Let's go to a bed.
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tonight, he doesn't blast down his own but he certainly bodily shoves it with his shoulder, his hands (gladly) full with an intoxicatingly beautiful shirtless man. the wood judders briefly in complaint as alhaitham sweeps into the room, only stopping once they reach the edge of his bed so that he could put the other down onto the mattress - maybe just slightly less gentle than he intends, because, hm. he's not in a rush, per se, but his mind is absolutely clouded by kaveh right now, the product of years entertaining the ghosts of indulgent thoughts that something like this could possibly happen between them. since they'd crossed paths in the akademiya, since they'd spent countless nights arguing to bitter non-conclusions on their research paper, since they'd separated and he'd found himself wondering just a little more than he thought was normal, 'how is kaveh doing?'.
so that's why alhaitham is all unbridled strength and barely restrained force, because he knows the blonde is sensitive and fragile - but seeing him splayed out like this on the freshly-made linens of his bed, just barely illuminated by the dim lights outside? it's doing carnal things to him, arousal already evident as he climbs on top of kaveh's lithe form, thighs on the outside of the architect's own legs.
- and despite the instinct that's pounding in his veins to keep going without a second's delay, alhaitham pauses for a seemingly long moment, gaze taking in the form beneath him with a look that's both appreciative and darkly wolfish. ]
To think I didn't want you, [ he breathes, his voice little more than a husky growl. ] Ridiculous.
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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
Impatient, as always.
[ the scribe murmurs lowly into the soft skin of kaveh's jaw, his head cocking to the side for better access as he showers kisses down his neck with the barest graze of teeth. along his jugular, across the fine arc of his collarbone, alhaitham is taking his time even though his blood is humming in his veins as furiously as kaveh's is, even though they'd both (apparently) been waiting so long for this - though, he could only speak for himself. the last time he'd gotten to map the blonde's svelte body had been in the midst of a misunderstanding, and although there's a loud and very convincing part of him that desires nothing more than to flip kaveh roughly into the mattress and take him right now?
he's trying to do it right, especially when he'd seen his partner fall into the arms of so many who'd done it wrong. people that hadn't been worthy to touch him, people that weren't alhaitham, people that he'd had to watch come and go all the while ignorant of how much he'd desired to take their place.
so he's slow and gentle even if it's obvious he's holding himself back, hands firm but careful as they travel down the skin of kaveh's chest alongside the kisses he leaves. a practical pause as he reaches the architect's navel and straightens up slightly only to twist around to tug the blonde's flat shoes off and discard them on the ground with a clatter, then repeating the action with his own (unfortunately, much higher) boots.
his hips lower flush against kaveh's own in a very intentional way as alhaitham yanks his own boots off - which would be argued that he simply needs the angle, but really, it's the intoxicating friction of their arousals meeting that he craves, and the delicious sounds that pour out of the other every time he does it.
freer now and divested of some of the things getting in his way, the scribe returns to what he was doing - working his way down his partner's body with the expressed intention of removing the rest of his clothes. ]
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He's going to go crazy, he thinks, wants to complain about it too but there's something so deliberate in the scribe's actions that Kaveh can tell it's a struggle for him too, can see the effort with which he's holding himself back from simply throwing the architect down and having his way with him—
(although, oh, that's a nice thought too, isn't it?) ]
No— [ Is the soft-voiced protest when Alhaitham pulls back, the corners of his lips folding into a pout even though he understands the practicality of the movement; a breathless groan parts them when hips press flush to his, and Kaveh's hands reach once more, a new grip on either side of his partner's hips, holding him steady— and maybe tugging him a little closer— as the other's hands travel down over his body.
And there's a part of him tempted to lie back and enjoy it, to let Alhaitham take him to pieces the way he has in the past, to allow himself to indulge in sensations he's wanted for too long. But Kaveh has the reputation he does for a reason, and even with that instinct burning in his gut, the greater desire is to take the other man to pieces too, to show in actions the feelings he's spoken in words. To leave proof that Alhaitham is his.
He leans, arches, head canting to find an angle that allows him to slot his head under his partner's jaw, mouth finding purchase on his throat and bullying the skin with tongue and teeth. First one, then another, red blooming to the surface of the other's pale skin in a way he knows will purple delightfully later.
Even with those stupidly high collars you wear— [ he mumbles, not entirely realizing he's speaking aloud, ] —people are gonna see this. They'll know you're mine.
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looking sidelong at the blonde through hooded eyes; ]
Oh? Is that important to you? [ alhaitham muses, not about to let anything slip past, even in the heat of the moment. ] You're the one who's always the center of attention, though - it'd be more prudent for me to mark you, don't you think?
[ as a continuation of that thought, a hand slips into kaveh's golden hair and tightens just a fraction - not nearly enough to hurt, but enough to tip his head back to give alhaitham access to the soft skin of his neck. there's barely a pause between him gaining an angle and a similar assault being wreaked on that sensitive spot, though the scribe takes the ministration one step further, other hand travelling downwards and closing firmly around kaveh's length.
with each mark, so too does he gently squeeze, dancing the line between the sharpness of teeth and the distraction of pleasure. alhaitham wants to watch him fall apart - and yes, a bonus of that would be for the world to know that the blonde is his. ]
Perhaps I should've done this before the function tonight, [ he continues somewhat breathlessly, the lust in his own blood beginning to get the better of even the scribe's stony façade. ] - all those people you were surrounded by, all of the scholars enraptured by you - they'd all know, know that you belonged to me.
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Perhaps much, much later down the line, Kaveh's usually very highly-functioning emotional intelligence will allow him to connect the dots between those two things, between the clingy, needy jealousy he feels and the possessive dominance in Alhaitham's actions. But as for right now, he's not thinking of that, still somewhat caught off-guard and bemused, a state that doesn't improve when long fingers tighten in his hair and tug his head back, tugging him away from the flushed marks he's left on pale skin and baring his own throat instead.
The sound he makes in response to the action is embarrassing, but not nearly as much as the strangled moan that escapes him in the very next moment when lips find his throat in time with that hand squeezing around him, in answer to the breathless, husky words murmured into his skin.
(Archons, it's unfair how quickly Alhaitham turns the tables on him, takes all semblance of sense away from him and leaves him arching and desperate and gasping for more.) ]
Do it... mn, do it before the next one then. Make it actually worth your while to go. [ Kaveh chuckles, fingers coiling into Alhaitham's hair and holding him close, hips arching as breathless moans meet the darkness of the room. His other hand falls to the younger's arm, grounding and steadying himself as he tries— and largely fails— to gather even some sense against the onslaught. ] Let them all see...
[ He's not quite sure why the idea is so arousing, but it is. ]
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[ not just because he strangely feels the need to prove it if tonight was anything to go by, but kaveh's right - it would certainly add some intrigue to an otherwise extremely dull affair. ever since they'd known each other, the scribe had been innately aware of how closely eyes followed kaveh around wherever he went and how easily others would gravitate to him regardless of context, even alhaitham, who famously gravitated to no-one. but perhaps this new relationship of theirs is changing things, more thoroughly bothering him when he can frequently observe oversteps, stolen touches, honeyed words directed at his partner -
so, in a logical sense, perhaps it was a good idea to draw a metaphorical line in the sand.
however - even logical argument is hazy in the scribe's mind right now, driven to distraction by the beautiful, breathy sounds escaping kaveh's lips and the angular grind of the blonde's hips into his own. the man underneath him hits just the right spot and makes alhaitham's deep voice hitch, fingers momentarily tangling further in that long hair as all reasonable thought flies out the window.
it only serves to further spur an already comparatively riled up scribe into further action, only half-disentangling himself (mm, the contact was too enjoyable) to start undoing the buttons of kaveh's dress pants with one hand. raising his head from the crook of his partner's neck as he does so, there's an indescribable expression on his face as alhaitham brushes his lips against kaveh's own kiss-reddened ones, carnal and intensely serious.
in a low voice, not quite as measured as he usually manages; ]
Let me have you.
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Archons—
[ It's a murmur on his lips that he doesn't even realize has been spoken aloud, a response to the hitch in Alhaitham's voice, the tangle of fingers in his hair that tells him he's found just the right place to arch and press and grind.
And if it weren't for the way his partner immediately starts to untangle them, the way one hand drops to start working his pants open, Kaveh would probably continue those motions in an effort to hear more of those sounds— he's learning fast that there's nothing quite as delicious as Alhaitham's loss of control— but instead he's left to look into those darkly serious eyes, to meet those lips with a trembling smile on his own.
Alhaitham speaks, and Kaveh answers with a sharp inhale, instinct showing his enthusiasm with a more insistent press of his mouth, all tongue and teeth and hot breath before he finds the right words amongst the jumble, pulls them free to speak. ]
Yes. Please. Please, Alhaitham.
[ His hands dip between the press of their bodies, one echoing his partner's actions and working at the buttons of the scribe's dress pants, the other finally allowing itself the boon Kaveh has dreamed of for too long now and cupping over the swell of Alhaitham's arousal, palm grinding and rubbing at him through the fabric.
(And gods, if he wasn't so excited, he might be nervous.) ]
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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.
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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 it— 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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the pure filth their kisses had devolved into coupled with the fact that kaveh is - as always - a frustratingly attractive vision dimly reminds alhaitham that his restraint is dissolving, especially as the architect's hands travel over his body, across muscle, fingers and the edge of nails digging in all the same. the desire this entire evening had evoked was pooling dangerously at his core to point it was getting hard to control, and every time a moan escapes kaveh's kiss-swollen lips, it serves to drag alhaitham just a little closer to the edge.
for a man whose actions were normally rigid, considered, purposeful, his motions have more of a raw, instinctual edge to them as the scribe manages to manipulate the vial in his hand well enough to slick both his fingers and his own length in hastened movements, the glass bottle then tossed carelessly towards the night-stand next to the bed. sharing much the same fate as the vase out in the hallway, it rolls off and clatters noisily against the floor, the shrill sound falling on deaf ears as alhaitham soundly kisses his partner once again.
the action is timed exactly with his digits gently entering kaveh, his touch gentle and much slower, much more measured than anything else he'd done in the last half an hour - because for the impulsive desire to forge straight ahead, it's leagues more important that the other is treated properly, with respect, with care, with affection.
alhaitham knows he's still rusty at the last quantifier, but as his knees dig into the mattress either side of kaveh, as his fingers slowly, methodically work him in a way that's pleasure first and functionality second; he idly hopes that the blonde still sees it anyway. ]
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The sensation of feeling is equally powerful, leaving Kaveh's hips writhing and arching into the pleasure those fingers spark between his legs, to answer that sound kiss with one of his own even as his lips tremble under the ministrations. The other's fingers work him open better than anyone else's ever have, obvious in the way he's exploring for pleasure's sake more than function's, Kaveh's lips parting to whimper helpless cries.
The air is scented with a mix of rich oil and sweat, the same salt he can taste mingling with the wine taste lingering in Alhaitham's mouth. And when his eyes open, the shape over the younger settled over him in the dim light, eyes fixed on him in return, is all he can see. It's all overwhelming to the point of almost being too much, and yet Kaveh won't let himself block any of it out. This is what he's wanted, needed, dreamed about...
Yet it's so much better than any dream. And if he's not careful, if he doesn't find a way to hold himself back—
With a soft, sharp gasp, Kaveh lifts a hand to curl it around the base of his own length, not stroking to seek pleasure, but wrapping tight, holding, even as his own hips arch against himself in protest, as a soft whimper surfaces on his mouth. The sudden pull of achingly desperate muscles is almost too much, but surely worth it if it stops him from tripping headlong into orgasm so soon— Especially when Alhaitham has been so attentive that he can't be sure he'd keep going after the fact.
And so temporary torment it is, Kaveh's moans soft and strained as his hips arch against Alhaitham's searching fingers and his own prohibitive hold. ]
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the hand kaveh sneaks between them grazes the skin on alhaitham's abdomen on the way to its destination and even that much touch makes large fingers on his free hand curl into the sheets with the electricity it sends down to his core. the scribe subscribes to realism above most other schools of thought, and judging by the flush on kaveh's face and the arch of his hips against his own touch, against alhaitham's fingers sinking deep into him - this would likely not last long. perhaps some small relief on the taller man's part, too, considering he was well aware that his own stamina was hinging on a short fuse; watching kaveh splayed out before him, hyper-responsive to his touch was infuriatingly attractive, and his own erection strained almost painfully at the torture of having to wait.
unlike kaveh, alhaitham was no social butterfly and had far less frequent sexual encounters - especially of late, considering the avalanche of work that had surrounded the akademiya's drama and the general lack of interest in anyone that wasn't an argumentative blonde. it had been a while, and it probably shows.
it only takes minimal rearranging to withdraw his fingers and replace them with his length pressing up insistently against kaveh's entrance in a motion more fluid than he should be able to manage right now, a heated turquoise gaze seeking out approval before proceeding any further. thankfully - approval is very much abundant in the both of them at this point, barely hanging on to control, and the scribe wastes no time in sinking himself slowly in to the hilt, eyes slipping closed and brow furrowing as he bites back a carnal groan.
only when he's settled, is sure kaveh's adjusted, that the architect is comfortable, do those piercing eyes open again, looking his partner directly in the eyes as his lips ghost over in an echo of a kiss; ]
Say it. [ he murmurs lowly, voice more obviously frayed than perhaps it had ever sounded in kaveh's presence. ] Say it: you're mine.
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Really, his own stamina should be more impressive than this, shouldn't it, given his relative body count? And yet just like the last time he shared a bed with Alhaitham, no matter how temporarily, Kaveh finds himself taken completely to pieces by each and every touch, ready to fall apart even before they're joined.
Something, perhaps, to think about once he has brain power beyond desire.
A whine surfaces in his mouth when those fingers withdraw, another at the pause that stretches between them as Alhaitham's length presses against but not into, at the burning look in those eyes— a pause just long enough that Kaveh's lips part to offer a complaint, although the first syllable of it shudders immediately into a low, wanton moan as the other man breaches, sinks against him until their skin is flush. He desperately wants to watch, to see the expressions of pleasure play out over Alhaitham's face, but his own eyes flutter closed in turn, hips arching into the slow movement. ]
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
[ As much as he wants his lover to start moving already, the adjustment period he's allowed his probably for the best, because Kaveh finds himself panting harsh breaths into the space between them; his eyes, when they open, are wide, pupils blown. And when Alhaitham's mouth finds his, lips stealing over lips between the murmur of words, the fragmented segments of conscious thought take too long to piece the words together— say what, he thinks, doesn't understand, but then the other clarifies and a pleased tremble passes viscerally through his body. ]
Yes. [ Kaveh can't resist the urge to unwind the tight hold of his fingers, both hands lifting to cup Alhaitham's face, returning the kiss more firmly, his breath sharp and short. ] I'm yours, Alhaitham. Always— I always have been, it's always been you—
[ He cuts himself off before he can start to ramble, his hips making a sharp short lift against the other man's, the desperation clear in his eyes when he pulls back from their kiss. ]
Just. Please. Don't keep me waiting anymore.
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it seems as if he's almost there, when kaveh lifts his hips without warning, pushing them so impossibly close - and alhaitham's eyes snap back open as restraint breaks like a twig inside him, a smouldering look on his face that suggests that 'waiting' was the absolute last thing on his mind.
one muscular arm fists into the mattress to support his weight and the other travels to the angular jut of kaveh's hip, a large hand gripping it firmly to give alhaitham purchase, force and a proper angle, one guaranteed to make the other see nothing but stars. there's only enough pause for the scribe to whisper dangerously against the blonde's raw lips, voice strained; ]
I would never.
[ and then the scribe moves, setting a pace right from the outset that's perhaps quicker than it should be, more forceful than it should be, but for all the selfishness, jealousy and possessiveness that still thrummed in his veins from the rest of the evening's activities, it's unsurprising that alhaitham is this kind of lover.
his eyes never leave kaveh's stunning form as he slides in - and out - his own breath ragged and catching at how perfect his partner looks, how perfect he feels - and with a growl, the scribe is aware that he's not going to last long watching such an exquisitely lewd scene. one that had only played in alhaitham's mind when it idled into self-indulgence; one that he had never particularly thought would manifest in this reality.
in between satisfied hisses, he manages to grit out; ]
Always me, Kaveh?
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And see stars Kaveh does, the whole of his back arching high now as one hand drops between them once again, hovering at his own hip, torn between the urge to take himself in hand once again, to make it last longer, or to keep touching, to let them crest the wave as quickly as it wants to fall.
Because oh, if it's like this he's going to make quite a pathetic showing. ]
Yes— yes, always—
[ And so much for not rambling, because Kaveh finds himself continuing, words snatched into the spaces between his moans, voice breathless and broken in answer to those firm, fast thrusts, his own falling to meet the younger's effort as the sharp sound of skin on skin fills the room. (Never mind that the words barely make any sense.) ]
Didn't realize it back then, but of course— I saw you, later we talked, saw you working too, worked and then there was more time and... and even through the fight, I— fuck, Alhaitham—
[ A particularly sharp movement on his lover's behalf make's Kaveh's decision for him, fingers forming a tight circle around his length yet again, a desperate, breathy whine on his lips. They've only just started, it's too soon for it to end, and yet he's embarrassingly close to the edge. ]
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sure, he'd laid with other men and women over the past few years - always one night, always at the other's suggestion, always as a kind of 'reward' for having the audacity to make such a daring request (and then the mutual benefit that followed) - but none of those encounters came even close to this, to kaveh's hooded crimson eyes gazing up at him in desperation, to his fingers dancing against his abs as he grabs at himself between them.
it'd be easy to conclude it was simply the blonde's ridiculous beauty, considering how easily it turned heads and caused eyes to wander, demonstrated even in their professional setting earlier that night - but it was more than that. it was something satisfying in the admissions that spill from kaveh's lips as the scribe works to undo him right down to his core, that he'd always had his eyes on alhaitham, just as alhaitham had always had his eyes on him.
it's almost too much, an overload of both emotional and physical feedback he's completely unaccustomed to, and judging by the way his partner was gripping his own arousal, alhaitham figures they're both going to tumble over the edge of this cliff sooner rather than later anyway. too much, too much, kaveh was always too much in all the annoying and all the right ways, the only person who'd ever crossed his path that could even remotely make him feel something like this -
and with a choked groan of pleasure, the scribe hastens his pace as his movements become slightly more haphazard. if he's going down, he's bodily dragging kaveh with him regardless of how much the blonde is attempting to stave it off. in a breathless, carnal growl; ]
Tell me more, [ the scribe commands, his intense gaze unwavering despite everything, continually seeking out those helplessly honest ruby eyes. ] Tell me how much you want me - how much you need me -
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He settles in the end for extending the connection between them; Kaveh's free hand drops from the touch he's kept at Alhaitham's cheek, the need driving him more than conscious thought as his fingers seek out his lover's shoulder and skim over muscled biceps, the sinewy forearms, finding the large hand curled into the sheets and wrapping around it, a vague attempt to tangle their fingers together.
The other hand stays wrapped tight around his base, trying to stave off the pressure he can feel building, growing more and more unbearable with each and every movement the younger man makes, each choked off sound that reaches his ears—
and Kaveh wants to tell Alhaitham to use his voice, to let him hear him, but his lips are already parting in answer to the scribe's demands, the words molten in his spine, words broken by gasps made in response to the growing speed and irregularity of Alhaitham's movements. ]
I've— so many nights— lost sleep, dreaming... fucking myself and pretending it was— fuck, Alhaitham, you're... you're big, can't ever— can't match this myself, no one else, you're the only— I need... I love— I—
[ He cuts himself off with a sharp, keening moan, a sound almost anguished as orgasm takes him despite the attempt he's made to prevent it, body arching sharply as his muscles tense for that singular moment before he falls completely apart; and despite himself his eyes fall shut, ragged breaths ghosting over his lips, body twitching and trembling.
Conscious thought is something of which he's currently not capable, but later he'll be left to wonder at the power by which he's been so thoroughly taken apart. ]
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kaveh tips the scales first, his musical voice petering out into a vulgar moan as he tightens around alhaitham and almost immediately drags him off the precipice with him. despite the scribe being rather vocally restrained throughout his entire endeavour, the force with which his orgasm hits him is so hard that he all but bites back a choked roar, muscular body tensing up and causing him to hunch over as he struggles to catch his breath. silver hair presses into the crook of the blonde's neck as alhaitham's form stutters against his partner, riding out the wave hilt deep in the most confronting pleasure he'd ever known -
the how, the why, both things that his analytical mind already innately understands and has kept from him for far too long, incomprehensible to him anyway at this point in time -
and slowly, slowly, they start to come down again.
it feels dangerous to shift them in the immediacy afterwards, like the smallest movement would enable the blonde underneath him to deconstruct him all over again, so for a moment - perhaps the first in their history - alhaitham simply does the favour of not saying anything at all, instead pressing a rough-edged kiss to the angle of kaveh's jaw.
he hasn't the words. ]
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