testing, testing - Chapter 4 - Lithopus - 原神 (2024)

Chapter Text

Alhaitham scrapes bits of spiced egg off a plate and into the trash can, and thinks about how he’ll need to add eggs to the grocery list now. He rinses the turmeric-stained ceramic in the sink, and thinks about how it’s fortunate that he didn’t stain his clothes while cooking earlier. He rubs a gloved finger over a stubborn smudge of tomato, and thinks about how washing dishes has been easier ever since he got these gloves from—

No. He reaches for the sponge and lathers it with the beige bar of soap sitting at the corner of the sink, and thinks about how the soap was considerately selected by—

No. He tackles the plate with the soapy sponge and rinses it clean, then wipes the plate dry with a towel and thinks about how doing the dishes always goes faster when he can hand them off to—

Alhaitham sets the plate aside and sighs. Next to him, the noontime sun falls on two containers of food from Lambad’s, one empty; Alhaitham had brought home lunch thinking there’d be someone to share it with, only to instead be met with a few abandoned dishes and an empty house.

Someone. Alhaitham is being ridiculous. If anyone else acted this way, he would call them a fool who refuses to confront inconvenient truths—and since there’s no reason for Alhaitham to exempt himself from that judgment, he supposes he must be a fool who refuses to confront an inconvenient truth.

Cause and effect: if one thing occurs, then another thing results. Knowing this, Alhaitham strives to foresee undesirable outcomes and prevent them. And although his preemptive measures may sometimes seem like the actions of a lunatic to others, they are nonetheless successful measures. He’s able to maintain a peaceful existence with minimal conflicts and few concerns, at the simple expense of predicting every possible negative outcome ahead of time.

And he’s a fool. Because Alhaitham knows, despite what he assuredly tells others, that there’s often nothing simple about that.

Sometimes, of course, extensive contemplation is warranted. When Alhaitham concocted a plan to save Lord Kusanali, the stakes were high. If he had made a mistake, people—who he now calls his friends—could have died.

Other times, though, contemplation becomes burdensome. When Alhaitham tries to prevent an inescapable outcome, he only succeeds in exhausting himself. He perpetually feels confined despite no evidence of a cage; it’s almost as if he’s running through a desert trap at full speed, constantly bracing himself to crash into an invisible wall.

Such is his current situation. Alhaitham has observed that thinking about a certain individual ultimately leaves him feeling disquieted—so the precautionary part of his mind insists that he should avoid thinking about that person altogether, even though that’s effectively impossible given that Alhaitham shares a house with them.

A certain individual. That person. He’s doing it again.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says out loud, to put a stop to his own absurdity.

He’s trying to avoid thinking about Kaveh.

Except lately, almost everything makes Alhaitham think of Kaveh—which is no surprise, when the two of them eat and sleep and breathe under the same roof every day. Alhaitham’s attempts to avoid that disquieted feeling are in vain; no matter how long he holds thoughts of Kaveh at bay, they eventually careen toward an unpleasant, unpreventable conclusion.

It’s futile and impractical. If he can’t prevent the outcome, then he should focus on mitigating it. Only a fool would try to outrun rain instead of bringing an umbrella.

(Alhaitham first coined that phrase several months ago, when Kaveh burst through the front door with drenched clothes and dripping hair, lamenting that he hadn’t brought an umbrella on his excursion to Gandharva Ville because he thought he could make it back to Sumeru City before the downpour. When Alhaitham pointed out that he clearly had not succeeded, Kaveh huffily replied that if some sort of shelter had been constructed along the path between the village and the city, then he could have successfully waited out the rainfall—and, Oh, that would actually be a useful public works project, Alhaitham. Do you think the Akademiya would approve a funding request? Travelers need a safe place to take shelter from the elements, after all. Hm, but it would have to be specially constructed to deter wild animals or elemental creatures. I’ll go start sketching—

At which point Alhaitham prohibited Kaveh from going anywhere near the study full of books while sopping wet, and told him to go dry himself off before he inflicted water damage on Alhaitham’s wood floors.)

The problem in this case is that Alhaitham doesn’t know how to obtain that metaphorical umbrella. If he can’t avoid thinking about Kaveh, those thoughts inevitably lead to unpleasant feelings—but if Alhaitham has no way to even palliate those feelings, then…what can he do, exactly? It seems like his only option is to end up drenched and miserable.

Then, should Alhaitham just accept the discomfort and trudge along with soggy boots and blistered toes?

It feels a bit defeatist. At the same time, it’s ludicrous to try escaping a reality that stares him in the face in every corner of the house. (A reality that stares at Alhaitham with ruby eyes and an unwavering frown, its smile eroded by storms.)

So Alhaitham stares at the container of food from Lambad’s, and thinks about Kaveh.

On a whim, Alhaitham had decided to eat lunch at home today. Figuring that Kaveh would still be home at this hour, Alhaitham predicted that he would also complain endlessly if Alhaitham dared to eat a delicious meal from Lambad’s right in front of him—so, anticipating this nuisance, Alhaitham brought home bean soup and muhallebi to placate him.

Except apparently Kaveh isn’t here. Alhaitham surmises that he was likely running late for a meeting with a client and rushed out the door after scarfing down some food; he remembers that Kaveh had groggily stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast just as he was leaving for the Akademiya, and he knows that normally Kaveh washes his own dishes instead of leaving them in the sink as he did today.

The two of them don’t have an established routine of eating lunch together, but it bothers Alhaitham that his expectations were upended. He’d anticipated seeing Kaveh’s eyes light up as he grabbed for the container, only for Alhaitham to pull it away and tell Kaveh to say please—and then Kaveh probably would have rolled his eyes and told Alhaitham to show some respect to his senior, to which Alhaitham would have replied…

Heat prickles Alhaitham’s face at the comebacks that manifest in his mind (all of which involve some sort of offer to suck Kaveh off).

Never mind. Kaveh’s outraged reactions would have been funny, but he’s not here right now, so Alhaitham’s lunch break has been significantly less entertaining than he anticipated.

But is that enough of a reason for Alhaitham to feel this agitated?

No, Alhaitham isn’t annoyed that Kaveh acted contrary to his expectations. He’s annoyed at himself for being invested in the expectation that Kaveh would be home to eat lunch with him.

Alhaitham shouldn’t care about something like that. He doesn’t require social interaction. His food tastes the same either way. He’s spent months—years—eating his lunch alone, and never had an issue with that.

For Alhaitham to desire a change in routine, he needs to believe that the change will result in some sort of improvement; in other words, making any sort of alteration to his comfortable way of life means that he prefers his life with that alteration.

That fact had troubled Alhaitham when he first offered to let Kaveh live with him, because although he reasoned that Kaveh’s presence would be intellectually beneficial, his offer nonetheless indicated that he preferred a house with Kaveh over a house without him. And it troubles him now, too—because if Alhaitham suddenly feels inclined to spend his lunch hour with Kaveh, that seems to indicate that Alhaitham isn’t satisfied with their current cohabiting arrangement.

And now that Alhaitham is drenched in this honesty, the cold truth of the matter seeps into his bones: that he must have been wrong when he told himself that he doesn’t want to salvage his old friendship with Kaveh.

No, not salvage. Scavenge is a more accurate term. Their relationship is past the point of rescuing; all Alhaitham can do now is search among the ruins for the pieces that still function, and parts that could feasibly be restored.

He suspects that he lacks the tools for that, though. The differences that drove the two of them apart remain unresolved to this day. Hardly anything has changed since their fight years ago.

Except for the sex.

Having sex with Kaveh is a new and unexpected variable. It doesn’t hold any actual answers on its own—like a trickle of light, it merely lets Alhaitham discern an occasional gleam amidst the wreckage. But even that occasional glimmer is enough for Alhaitham to recognize that there’s something he wants to uncover, and that he isn’t content with simply walking away from the relics that lie scattered and buried.

Down the hall, the front door of the house clicks open and slams shut, and a familiar voice drifts through the air. “f*ck, f*ck—damn it—”

Alhaitham straightens, his eyes flicking toward the hallway. He briefly debates bringing the food out to Kaveh, and concludes that it’s more reasonable for Kaveh to come retrieve it himself. With that decided, Alhaitham ventures out to the living room to determine why Kaveh is cursing more than usual.

He finds Kaveh combing through a stack of papers on the coffee table and muttering to himself, too absorbed in his task to notice Alhaitham standing in the doorway. Swearing under his breath, Kaveh abruptly whirls around and charges toward the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, tripping on the carpet and stumbling in his haste.

Frustratingly careless—Kaveh could have fallen and hurt himself. How does he always exercise so much caution when it comes to others, and yet hardly any towards himself?

Alhaitham meanders over to the coffee table and glances at the papers Kaveh was rifling through. Mostly disjointed notes scribbled in Kaveh’s brainstorming handwriting: random ideas, lists of materials, a few cost estimates. “Did you—”

Kaveh jolts and yelps, turning to face Alhaitham. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Did you misplace your lunch money, senior?” Alhaitham asks, as Kaveh turns back to the bookshelf. “Or is there another reason you’re tearing apart our living room while I’m trying to digest my lunch in peace and—”

“Not now!” Kaveh snaps. “Ugh, where is it?”

“I could answer that question more easily if you actually mentioned what you’re looking for.”

“I wasn’t—” Kaveh twists his head toward Alhaitham, glaring in his general direction. “Augh! My meeting is—oh, damn it, where did I put it?”

He charges off toward the study, and Alhaitham trails along behind him, trying to recall which client Kaveh is meeting today. (He also wonders which personality flaw or poor decision contributed to Kaveh’s predicament this time; it’s most likely something Alhaitham has pointed out before, only for Kaveh to dismiss his advice as heartless or egocentric.)

Alhaitham leans against the doorframe of the study with his arms folded, watching as Kaveh shuffles notes and diagrams piled on the desk by the window. “Maybe I’ve seen this mystery document of yours.”

“You—” Kaveh exhales loudly through his nose, slamming down a stack of papers and grabbing a different one. “I don’t have time for this. And why are you following me around the house? Don’t you have a job rife with financial freedom to do?”

Financial freedom that bought you lunch, Alhaitham nearly retorts—but he doubts that Kaveh is listening, so he saves his breath.

“Damn it,” Kaveh mutters. “Why didn’t I keep it with my other files? I’m so stupid. Why do I always do this to myself? I shouldn’t even be charging for this kind of incompetence. I should start paying my clients for putting up with my complete…my complete idiocy, gods, where the f*ck is it?”

“I fail to see how misplacing a few papers correlates to a person’s intelligence,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh lets out a growl and tosses the pile of papers back onto the desk. “Not now. We’re not doing this now. Just—” He heaves a sigh and crouches on the floor, sifting through another stack of documents.

Alhaitham stares at Kaveh, not sure how to respond; it almost feels like they’re speaking at each other in two completely different languages. He doesn’t even know what Kaveh means by ‘doing this’, when all Alhaitham did was point out that it’s ridiculous of Kaveh to question his obvious ingenuity simply because he lost a piece of paper. Those two things aren’t logically related at all.

“I meant that the source of your problem has nothing to do with how smart you are,” Alhaitham clarifies. “It defies logic that a lack of organizational skills could somehow be conclusive evidence that—”

“Can you stop?” Kaveh seethes, and Alhaitham flinches. He folds his arms tighter, his hands fisting the sleeves of his shirt. “I said we’re not doing this. You can lecture me on why my life is a mess later, if you’re really so intent on doing so.”

And now Alhaitham feels buried up to his neck in sand, when a moment ago he’d thought he was on solid ground. This sort of exchange—it isn’t unfamiliar, but it’s the first time in weeks that Kaveh has been so disagreeable, bristling at all of Alhaitham’s attempts to communicate. Alhaitham supposes he became too complacent with the newfound peace between the two of them; he should have expected that something like this would happen eventually.

For a moment, he can’t bring himself to move. Every option feels wrong. In fact, if anything, Alhaitham is the one who has reason to feel stupid right now, because he gets the sense that he’s missing something obvious. Why does Kaveh keep misunderstanding everything he says? How is Alhaitham provoking these responses? It must be a blatant error of some kind, for Kaveh to react this angrily.

Is it Alhaitham’s tone? He’d thought he was speaking amicably. Had he somehow sounded angry instead?

He’s never sure of what to do in these situations, where every word he speaks seems to be translated inaccurately on its way to the other person’s ears. Sometimes he chalks it up to that person’s idiocy or preconceived notions about him, and goes about his day—but Kaveh is no idiot, and he knows Alhaitham better than anyone, so his reactions can’t be written off so easily.

“I’ll help you look for it,” Alhaitham says, hoping those few words won’t somehow be misconstrued.

Kaveh blinks, startled, as if Alhaitham just flicked some sand at his face. “What? Why would—I mean, is that really a good use of your valuable time?”

“I’m not doing anything else right now.”

“But…” Kaveh jumps to his feet, a pile of papers clutched close to his chest. “How would that benefit you?”

How would that benefit him? What is Kaveh talking about? Alhaitham hadn’t proposed some sort of abstruse philosophical theory—he only said that he’d help Kaveh look for whatever he lost. Alhaitham thought that at the very least, an offer of assistance couldn’t possibly bother Kaveh, but it seems that he’s somehow miscalculated again.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh scoffs and goes back to flipping through the papers in his hands. “You know exactly what I mean. Well, I suppose it’s because you want me out of here as soon as possible, so that you can regain the peace and quiet that I ruined with my bothersome presence. There—you got me to say it for you. I’m sure it’s satisfying to hear me admit that I’m a nuisance. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find this document so that I can attend my meeting and subject yet another person to my aggravating self.”

Alhaitham’s stomach curls as if he’s drunk sour coffee on an empty stomach. He feels an overwhelming urge to say look for it yourself and then leave—because that’s clearly the outcome Kaveh expects, and it would be easier than dealing with the prelude to a headache throbbing near Alhaitham’s temples.

You know exactly what I mean, Kaveh said, except Alhaitham doesn’t. He was being sincere when he said that he didn’t know. Had he really sounded sarcastic when he said that? Does Kaveh think that Alhaitham is immune to moments of confusion?

And Alhaitham usually isn’t the sort of person to feign understanding, like so many Akademiya grandstanders who are desperate to keep up appearances—but with Kaveh, it’s sometimes necessary. “Sharp as ever, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says flatly. “Are you going to tell me which document you’ve lost?”

Kaveh sighs and returns the pile of papers to their place on the floor. “Part of my updated proposal for a client. She wanted to discuss cheaper options for the facade of the building, so I sketched a few possibilities and calculated how each would affect the overall price—but today’s meeting was rescheduled from two weeks ago, and I’ve been working on other things in the meantime, so now I don’t remember where I put the file. Um, the name on the document should be Bakshi.”

With a nod, Alhaitham heads toward Kaveh’s bedroom. He knows that Kaveh occasionally leaves project notes on his nightstand in case he suddenly has an epiphany in the middle of the night—which is much less bothersome than when he used to groggily stumble to the study at three in the morning, cussing over a stubbed toe and inevitably waking Alhaitham—so it’s possible that Kaveh left part of his proposal there.

“Of course,” Kaveh says from the study, as Alhaitham enters the living room. “Never mind. I’ll find it myself.”

Alhaitham clenches his jaw and doesn’t respond. He hadn’t even said anything that time, and Kaveh still put words in his mouth. There’s no point in trying to have a conversation.

Kaveh’s room is as tidy as usual, save for the unmade bed and a few odds and ends scattered around the room. Alhaitham immediately spies one of Kaveh’s many notebooks on the nightstand next to the bed, and crosses the room to investigate.

There’s nothing sitting underneath the notebook, so Alhaitham quickly flips through it to see if Kaveh stuck the loose proposal papers inside the bound pages. When that yields no results, Alhaitham replaces the notebook and scans the room, wondering where else Kaveh might absentmindedly leave a file.

Hm. Two weeks ago…Kaveh must have dusted the furniture at least once during that time, and the nightstand was definitely cleared off when they had sex last week.

Which they haven’t done since then, and although Alhaitham doesn’t want to be bothered by that, he is.

He’s bothered that it’s been a week. He’s bothered that he needs to name a specific kink on their list every time he wants to have sex with Kaveh. He’s bothered that Kaveh’s bed is now draped in the new sheets that Alhaitham finally buckled and purchased a few days ago, after Kaveh insisted for months that fabric and thread count make a difference—because for some reason Alhaitham thought that buying these sheets might coax a small grateful smile from Kaveh, instead of the confused oh, thank you Kaveh gave him instead.

Not that Alhaitham requires thanks or holds expressions of gratitude to any sort of standard. He simply wonders what conditions and variables might finally make Kaveh smile at him freely: without hesitation, without a melancholic twist to his lips, without rolling his eyes. Alhaitham knows that it’s possible, because Kaveh regularly smiled that way during their Akademiya days…but then again, maybe that’s a piece of their relationship that can’t be restored. Those smiles may be shattered and unmendable, or buried too deep to be salvaged.

Alhaitham thinks he might have glimpsed one when he gifted Kaveh that scarf from the bazaar, but he doubts that he can successfully give Kaveh another gift like that any time soon. Kaveh’s unfathomable skepticism upon receiving the scarf—Do I owe you for this? I can keep this? You won’t ask for it back?—suggests that he’ll outright reject any gift that’s more extravagant than household goods.

Really, the only thing Kaveh doesn’t hesitate to receive is oral sex. When it comes to having Alhaitham’s mouth around his dick, there’s no room for that can I really keep it or will you ask for it back nonsense. Alhaitham vividly recalls that morning the two of them came home from the bazaar and he dropped to his knees by the front door, where Kaveh rambled words of encouragement as he readily allowed Alhaitham to suck him off.

Do you like to be told that you’re good? Look at you, being so good for me. Making me feel so nice. You’re treating me so well, Haitham.

Alhaitham scoffs out loud to himself. Kaveh would certainly never say that Alhaitham treats him well in any other manner. The only time he ever has anything complimentary to say is during sex.

And that’s fine. Alhaitham doesn’t rely on other people’s words or opinions to make him feel good about himself. He doesn’t care if Kaveh praises him or not.

(With one exception: the time that Kaveh, indulgently f*cking Alhaitham with his fingers, told him, Such a good…uh, such a good job.

Of all things he could have said, he went with good job. Is Kaveh grading him like an Akademiya assignment, now? Alhaitham had been dazed with arousal, almost certain that Kaveh was about to say good boy—and he had even glanced down at Kaveh, too, silently urging him to continue—only for Kaveh to tell him that he was doing a good job instead.

Hmph. Well, at least Kaveh knows how to use his dick properly, even when he talks like he’s a professor writing comments in the margins of a student’s essay. Excellent climax here. Very impactful. Moans flowed well. Displayed strong understanding of ejacul*tory methods.)

Alhaitham sighs. There’s nothing to be gained from standing around and pondering like this, so he returns to the task at hand: If Kaveh had kept the files by his bed at one point, and then moved them when he was dusting his room or clearing off the nightstand for sex…what’s the closest place he would have moved them to?

Alhaitham’s eyes fall to the shallow top drawer of the nightstand, and he tugs it open just enough to peer inside. Sure enough, it’s holding a few sheets of paper bearing Kaveh’s neatest handwriting—and when Alhaitham opens the drawer the rest of the way, he immediately spots the name Bakshi at the top of the front page.

Humming in satisfaction, Alhaitham grabs the papers and slips the drawer shut. His eyes flick to the embroidered cotton bedsheets one last time, and then he turns and leaves before he can get any more annoyed that he and Kaveh haven’t made use of them yet.

He finds Kaveh still in the study, tugging frantically at his hair as he surveys the room. “Where else, where else…”

At Alhaitham’s entrance, Kaveh’s eyes dart to the doorway. “In your nightstand,” Alhaitham supplies, offering the papers.

“What—why—” Kaveh takes the papers from Alhaitham and squints at them. “Oh, that’s right, I…wait. You went through my things?”

“No need to thank me,” Alhaitham says, “since I obviously did this to substantially benefit myself. I’m taking a nap now.” He spins on his heel and starts down the hallway, then remembers that he hasn’t put away the food in the kitchen yet. “And since you always waste so much time trying to please implacable clients, I assume you haven’t managed to feed yourself since breakfast. There’s lunch on the kitchen counter, but I won’t go so far as to suggest that you eat it, given that you find my help to be so objectionable.”

Seeing as you inexplicably get pissed off by my attempts to help, is what Alhaitham really wants to say—but that wouldn’t be constructive, and right now he just wants to sleep off his budding headache before going back to work.

He leaves Kaveh stuttering in confusion and goes straight to his own bedroom, shutting the door with a thud that rings too loudly in his ears.

Alhaitham sits on the foot of his bed and stares at the stained glass windows in front of him. He doubts that he’ll actually take a nap with his stomach twisting like this—but at the very least, he can stay out of Kaveh’s way until he leaves to meet with his client. That’s clearly what Kaveh would prefer.

Ugh. The room is too bright. Alhaitham trudges over to the window and yanks the curtains shut, blocking out most of the afternoon light with the thick fabric.

Slightly less perturbed, Alhaitham sinks onto his bed, clenching and unclenching his fists.

He doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t understand why Kaveh assumes the worst and misconstrues half the things he says. He doesn’t understand why his attempts to help are perceived as personal attacks. He doesn’t understand how newfound acquaintances could trust that Alhaitham would keep them safe when they rescued an archon, while a man who’s known him for years can’t seem to trust a single word he says. He doesn’t understand how last week he and Kaveh were tangled in an embrace as Kaveh whispered affectionate words and kissed him wholeheartedly, only for the two of them to bicker and berate each other just now.

Do you feel alright? Kaveh had murmured that evening, his face tucked against Alhaitham’s neck. I like knowing that I’m making you feel good.

Does he really? Because if Alhaitham didn’t know that Kaveh has no reason to lie during sex—and if he didn’t know that Kaveh is empathetic to a fault—he’d think that Kaveh enjoys the opposite, and takes pleasure in knowing that he’s hit Alhaitham’s sore spots.

You’re doing perfectly. You’re doing so well. I’ve got you.

Only in bed. Anywhere else, Kaveh inexplicably takes issue with most things Alhaitham does, and then shoves him away whenever he tries to bridge the gap in understanding.

Alhaitham sighs and slumps forward, pressing a hand to his forehead. Exhausting. It’s exhausting to deal with Kaveh’s incomprehensible behaviors.

And Alhaitham shouldn’t have mentioned the food. He should have just put it away and told Kaveh later. Now Kaveh will probably feel guilty for snapping at someone who bought him lunch, and even though Alhaitham wants to be left alone right now, there’s a good chance that Kaveh will feel compelled to go after him and apologize so that the feeling of guilt goes away. After all these years, Kaveh still prefers to alleviate his guilt complex with perpetual apologies, rather than reflect on his flaws and address the root cause of those feelings.

“Not my problem,” Alhaitham mutters to himself. He gave up a long time ago on trying to cure Kaveh’s self-sustaining misery.

A light knock on the door startles him.

There it is. Or maybe Kaveh isn’t here to apologize—maybe he’ll just tell Alhaitham that it’s unprofessional to eat during a meeting with a client, rejecting the offer of food so that he doesn’t need to feel guilty for accepting it.

Alhaitham twists around to face the door. “Yes?”

The door creaks open partway, and Kaveh pokes his head inside. “Um, I saw you left your headphones in the living room, and wasn’t sure if you wanted them for your nap, so…” When Alhaitham doesn’t object, Kaveh slips into the room and edges over to the nightstand, delicately setting Alhaitham’s headphones on it. He’s hugging the container of lunch to his chest with one hand, a binder full of documents tucked under his arm. “Well, there they are. And—and thank you for the food, and for helping me find the files. I…” He shakes his head and scurries back to the door. “I need to get going. I’ll see you later.”

He quietly shuts the door behind him, and then Alhaitham is alone in the dimly-lit bedroom.

Oh.

Unexpected, and as confusing as ever—but at least Kaveh didn’t make Alhaitham feel worse.

Alhaitham heads back to work soon after, and ends up napping in his office with the door locked instead. For the subsequent remainder of the workday, his mind is suitably numbed reading incompetent research proposals, which he rejects in even fewer words than usual; he sees no reason to waste time solving people’s problems for them by explaining why the proposals failed to pass muster.

He stays at the Akademiya forty-five minutes later than usual, weakly justifying the decision with his abnormally-long lunch break—but eventually he gets tired of the empty erudite walls, and packs up his things to head home for the day.

The front door is locked when he gets home, although of course that means nothing. Kaveh locks it even when he knows that Alhaitham will be home a few minutes later, due to his absurd insistence on pretending that they don’t live under the same roof. It’s such a farce that sometimes Alhaitham wonders if Kaveh denies the truth less for the sake of his reputation, and more because the idea of living with Alhaitham is so detestable that Kaveh doesn’t want to admit that it’s true.

After all, why would anyone jump to the conclusion that Kaveh moved in with Alhaitham because of bankruptcy? Alhaitham’s house is conveniently close to the Akademiya, and a short walk away from most major establishments in the city; Kaveh could have moved in with him for the sake of convenience. Or Kaveh could have been renovating his family’s home to improve the aesthetics or remedy a structural issue, and needed a place to stay in the meantime. And it’s perfectly normal for people to cohabit with their lovers, too; for all the general public knows, Kaveh could have moved in with Alhaitham to cement a romantic relationship between the two of them.

(So, maybe Kaveh isn’t really worried that people will realize he’s bankrupt—maybe he’s trying to prevent rumors that he’s romantically involved with Alhaitham, which is a loathsomely intolerable concept in Kaveh’s eyes.)

Sighing, Alhaitham unlocks the door and steps inside. A quick glance to the side confirms that Kaveh’s keys aren’t hanging on the wall hook, meaning that Alhaitham got home before he did.

It’s just as well. Maybe Alhaitham will have time to make a quick dinner for himself and retreat to his room before Kaveh gets home.

After a few minutes staring at a pantry of ingredients that he and Kaveh intended to cook together, though, Alhaitham finds himself sitting on the couch instead, skimming a book while he waits.

The sunlight streaming through the windows glows the soft amber of late evening when the front door’s lock finally clicks, startling Alhaitham. He doggedly keeps his eyes trained on the book in his hands, staring at the last line on the page without recalling any of the words that came before it.

Then the front door swings open and shut, and Alhaitham glances up at Kaveh. “Welcome back,” he says, against his better judgment. “How was your meeting?”

“Oh.” Kaveh loops his keys onto the wall hook and shuffles closer to the living room. “Um, it was good. Surprisingly productive.” His eyes drop to the coffee table as he flexes his fingers and tugs at one of his rings. “I…”

Alhaitham lowers the book to his lap. “Surprising because you see yourself as an incompetent idiot, despite all evidence to the contrary?”

Kaveh’s head snaps up, his eyes round with confusion. “What—oh.” He’s silent for a few moments. “Can I…sit on the couch?”

“I don’t see anything stopping you.”

Heaving a sigh, Kaveh picks his way around the coffee table and seats himself next to Alhaitham, leaving a thigh’s width of space between them. He silently bounces his legs and continues to fidget with his hands, to the point that Alhaitham starts feeling on edge. Whatever Kaveh has to say, he should just say it. The suspense isn’t helping either of them.

“You’re right,” Kaveh finally says. “I should keep my files more organized, especially when I’m always telling you to—”

“I’m not interested in reiterating our exchange from earlier,” Alhaitham says, closing his book.

“No, no—that’s not—” Kaveh takes a deep breath and sighs, his shoulders falling as the air gusts out of him. “I try to stay organized, but I just can’t keep up with…it’s like…”

“You don’t need to defend yourself. I wasn’t criticizing your lack of organization, and the manner in which you store your files doesn’t affect me.”

“It affects me,” Kaveh says. “I’m always so busy with work that I never have time to get things in order. At this point, the mess is overwhelming, and it only gets worse with each new project.” He holds up a hand to silence Alhaitham, even though Alhaitham hadn’t been planning to speak. “And don’t say that I should stop working so hard to please my clients, because I have no intention of doing that. Actually, you don’t need to say anything at all. I know this is a problem of my own making, so…I’ll just deal with it. It could be worse.”

“So you admit it has nothing to do with your intelligence.”

“Huh?”

“You said before that you must be stupid and incompetent because your files aren’t organized. You’ve now explained that it comes down to a lack of time, which means that your previous conclusion was erroneous.”

Kaveh squints at him for a moment, then lets out a weak laugh. “Oh. Ha. Well, my reasoning was faulty, perhaps, but sometimes I…never mind. I won’t get into it. Regardless, my files are a mess, and every time I think about getting them organized, I’m busy with something else, so I suppose that’s just how things are going to be.”

Alhaitham sets his book aside and gets to his feet. “You aren’t busy with anything right now,” he says, starting toward the study. “We should have time to sort through one of your piles before dinner.”

“Wait, wh—no, no, you don’t have to…” Kaveh’s footsteps trail behind him. “ Alhaitham, I wasn’t asking you to—it’s one thing for you to put away your books, but this mess involves my things, so—”

“And it’s cluttering my study,” Alhaitham says, “so I have a vested interest in getting things organized, obviously.”

“But—I—in that case, I’ll just move the piles to my room—oh, damn it, my shoes, I’m tracking dirt everywhere—”

Kaveh’s shoes thud to the ground one by one, seemingly yanked off and tossed aside, and Alhaitham’s lips twitch with amusem*nt. Leaning against the wall of the study, he waits until Kaveh joins him, then asks, “Where should we start?”

“Oh, um…” Kaveh grimaces. “The piles are all equally bad, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“The desk, then.” Alhaitham pushes off the wall and crosses the room, grabbing a pile from the desk at random. “We should sort the files before organizing them. What system would be most useful?”

“Hm. Ideally I should group together all correspondence or communication with clients, and alphabetize those—and I’d like to keep the materials for each individual project together. It would probably help to separate any bills or financial statements, so that I can keep track of those…oh, and I have random notes and sketches that aren’t tied to any particular project, so I suppose those could have their own category…?”

If only Alhaitham’s superiors were so enterprising when it came to tracking their own documents. “Sounds fine,” Alhaitham says. He retrieves a few blank sheets of paper and writes a category on each one, then spaces them out on the floor of the study. “Sort the new piles like this. We’ll organize each group of documents once we have everything categorized.”

The two of them get to work, and the smaller piles on the floor steadily grow in size. When Kaveh eventually runs out of papers, he stands and moves to the desk to grab a new pile, while Alhaitham distractedly reads through a client letter praising Kaveh’s exceptional talent and skill, silently agreeing with every word.

“What is my proposal for Effendi’s renovation project doing in here?” Kaveh mutters, and Alhaitham glances up to see him sifting through a new stack of papers. “I don’t even know how these papers got so mixed up…I could have sworn—”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, as Kaveh unseeingly walks straight toward a heap of files. “The floor—watch your feet—”

Kaveh trips to a stop, wobbling and hopping to catch himself, and Alhaitham surges to his feet to steady him—but before he’s fully standing, Kaveh stumbles forward and knocks them both to the ground, tightly clutching the papers as he lands in Alhaitham’s arms.

Kaveh immediately tosses the papers aside and props himself up on his hands, peering down at Alhaitham. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as the same question leaves Alhaitham’s lips.

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham answers first. “I was already on the floor. Did you get hurt?”

“I—no, I don’t think so.” A curled strand of hair escapes Kaveh’s clips and hangs loose, tempting Alhaitham to twine it around a finger. “And even if you weren’t completely standing, you got crushed when I fell on top of you. You could still be hurt.”

“Crushed? You’re not that heavy. If anything, I’d say most of your weight is in your ass, which fortunately didn’t collide with any of my vital organs.”

“Wh—I—!” Kaveh’s face flushes, and Alhaitham allows himself a small smirk. “Most of my weight is from my muscle, you mean.” Alhaitham raises his eyebrows skeptically, and Kaveh splutters at the silent question. “Oh, you—just because I don’t have bulging biceps and an entire f*cking ravine between my pectorals, that doesn’t mean I don’t have any muscle! You know I’m not weak!”

And that’s true: he isn’t weak, and he does have muscle. Alhaitham is fully aware that Kaveh could wield his claymore by hand if he really wanted to. After all, Kaveh always plans for the worst possible outcomes, so he’s obviously accounted for the possibility of a fight during which he has access to neither Mehrak nor his Vision. In a situation like that, Kaveh would be as good as defenseless with a sword that he can’t use—so of course Kaveh stays in good enough shape to fight with his claymore. Otherwise he would arm himself with some other weapon that doesn’t require him to rely on technology.

(Despite Kshahrewar’s focus on technology, Kaveh has never been overly dependent on it; even as a student, he always preferred to find his answers in physical tomes instead of mindlessly searching with the akasha, which was one reason he caught Alhaitham’s eye when they first met. The hours they spent together among the House of Daena’s shelves had conspicuously set the two of them apart from other students.)

Still, Kaveh isn’t as strong as Alhaitham—and Alhaitham suddenly feels compelled to remind him of that fact, so he grabs Kaveh’s waist and flips their positions, straddling Kaveh and pinning his wrists beside his head.

“Is that so, senior?” Alhaitham says. “Then I assume you’ll have no trouble freeing yourself right now.”

For a moment, Kaveh stares at Alhaitham with wide eyes, and Alhaitham worries that the fall somehow injured him after all. After a few seconds, though, Kaveh’s face twists into a pout. “I—that—there’s no need for…” He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

Kaveh sharply bucks his hips upward, propelling Alhaitham forward over his head. When Alhaitham instinctively lets go of Kaveh’s wrists to catch himself, he feels Kaveh’s hands slide down to grab his hips, and suddenly realizes what Kaveh is planning.

Alhaitham instantly goes limp, dropping his weight onto Kaveh and sprawling on top of him. Kaveh yelps and whacks his side, wriggling beneath him. “You! Get your—get your f*cking tit* out of my face—and I did get my hands free, so—”

“Doesn’t count,” Alhaitham says. Unbidden, his mind supplies an image of him kneeling over Kaveh, straddling his head—then pulling out his co*ck and pressing it inside that insolent mouth, ordering him to suck. Clearing his throat, Alhaitham slides back so that he and Kaveh are face-to-face again. “That wasn’t a show of strength, Senior Kaveh. That was an underhanded trick.”

Kaveh glares up at him, his face flushed dark. “You only told me to free myself! You didn’t specify how.”

“My mistake.” Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s wrists and pins them back on the floor, trying to ignore the pulse of heat he feels at the sight. “Overpower me, then. No tricks or techniques—just brute force. Surely someone as strong and muscled as yourself can handle that?”

Kaveh’s mouth flaps wordlessly, his hands curled into fists. “Wha—I never said I was stronger than you! Just that I have muscle!”

“Hm.” Alhaitham deliberately drags his eyes over the biceps wrapped in the billowy sleeves of Kaveh’s shirt. “That may be, but with your arms currently covered, I can’t ascertain that. I’ll need to physically test your strength instead.”

“Don’t play coy! You’ve seen me naked! You know what my arms look like!”

There’s something about the blush on his face and the sharpness in his tone that makes Alhaitham want to put him in his place—but not in the way he typically does, when he encounters fools at the Akademiya or on the road. In those cases, Alhaitham bluntly informs people of their stupidity, or settles matters with force if necessary. This, though…

He wants to put Kaveh in his place—but he wants that place to make Kaveh arch his back and desperately moan, and he wants it to be a place that Kaveh willingly surrenders to.

And Alhaitham also can’t deny that he feels a rush at having Kaveh pinned beneath him like this, entirely at his mercy.

“Oh?” Alhaitham says. “Is there a reason you’re invoking that image? Are you hoping to distract me with the thought of you being naked?” He leans down, letting his lips brush Kaveh’s ear. “I said no tricks, senior.”

Kaveh’s breath hitches. “I wasn’t…you…”

Alhaitham can’t resist—he presses his lips to the spot just behind Kaveh’s ear, then trails them downward to nip at his throat. Kaveh whines quietly, and the fight instantly drains from his limbs; he goes limp like a rag doll in Alhaitham’s grasp, all too easy to control.

A surprising need strengthens Alhaitham’s grip, so he squeezes Kaveh’s wrists tight and drags his tongue up the length of his throat, relishing the way Kaveh’s breath quickens. “Well, Kaveh?” Alhaitham says. “If you can’t overpower me, you should probably yield. Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

“I—that’s—” Kaveh moans through closed lips as Alhaitham grinds against him. “Fine. I yield. There. Now can you…”

“Hm.” Alhaitham’s lips drift to Kaveh’s collarbone, and he smiles against his skin. “Keep your hands up here,” he says, letting go of Kaveh’s wrists.

“Wha…”

Despite the compulsion to move quickly, Alhaitham slides downward and slowly undoes Kaveh’s shirt, carefully slipping each button free. (He’ll never hear the end of it if he accidentally damages Kaveh’s clothing.) With the last button undone, Alhaitham pushes the shirt open to bare the tan and toned muscle that leads down to a slim waist, and leans closer so that his mouth hovers close to the curve of Kaveh’s chest, prepared to tease.

Then he glances up at Kaveh and momentarily forgets every language he knows. Kaveh stares down at him, red-faced as he breathes through parted lips, hands still resting where Alhaitham left them, the fingers lax and curled.

Surprisingly cooperative, Kaveh, Alhaitham nearly says—except he doesn’t want to wipe away that dazed expression on Kaveh’s face. Instead, Alhaitham lowers his mouth a bit more and raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “You can say no, you know,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Kaveh wets his lips and nods.

Alhaitham wraps his lips around the brown tip of a nipple and flicks his tongue, and Kaveh sucks in a sharp breath, pressing his chest upward against Alhaitham’s lips. Taking that as a good sign, Alhaitham drags his tongue more deliberately back over the spot, keeping his eyes trained on Kaveh.

It occurs to him that he has no idea what he’s doing. When Kaveh first sucked him off, it lasted long enough that Alhaitham managed to glean a few techniques from the encounter—and when Alhaitham later returned the favor, Kaveh still guided him through it, even as he teased and degraded him. But Kaveh didn’t spend much time on Alhaitham’s chest, and Alhaitham currently isn’t receiving any instruction on the matter, so he has no way to know what will make Kaveh feel good.

Stalling, Alhaitham reaches down and strokes the outline of Kaveh’s co*ck. Kaveh’s hips twitch slightly, and his breathing audibly speeds up as Alhaitham frees the button of Kaveh’s trousers and tugs them lower, leaving Kaveh’s full length to spring out.

Alhaitham would normally make some sort of quip, but there are too many other thoughts on his mind—and he can’t even handle those right now, because it’s impossible to think properly with Kaveh panting like that, chest begging for attention, co*ck warm and wanting.

Well, hopefully a decent handjob will distract Kaveh from any mishandling of his chest.

Alhaitham wraps his hand around Kaveh’s co*ck and slides his fist up and down the shaft. This sort of motion is familiar, at least, since he’s done it plenty of times to himself (increasingly to thoughts of the man who’s currently sprawled beneath him).

With his other hand, Alhaitham slides his palm up to Kaveh’s chest and squeezes, brushing his thumb over a nipple. He silently notes that Kaveh’s chest is…surprisingly firm. There’s not as much for Alhaitham to grab with his hands, since Kaveh’s muscle is lean rather than bulky; in other words, he lacks the entire f*cking ravine between his pectorals that Alhaitham allegedly possesses.

Alhaitham presses his tongue to the opposite nipple again, licking and sucking while his hands continue to work Kaveh’s co*ck and chest. Experimentally, Alhaitham twists that nipple between his fingers, lightly at first—and then he pinches a bit harder, rubbing his thumb over the tip.

Kaveh groans quietly, and Alhaitham pauses, glancing up to assess that reaction. Kaveh’s head is lolled back, eyes closed, mouth lax—and when Alhaitham doesn’t immediately resume touching him, Kaveh cracks his eyes open and peers down at him, silently questioning the delay.

Alhaitham bites back the smile tugging at his lips and returns to his task, switching hands so that he can use his mouth on the other half of Kaveh’s chest. Between licking and kissing, he happens to exhale a breath against the wet spot over Kaveh’s nipple, and Kaveh lets out a higher-pitched ah, his voice verging on a whine.

Oh?

Alhaitham’s eyes flick upward again. Kaveh’s face is turned to the side, but Alhaitham can see that his eyes are squeezed shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his breaths come faster.

“Is that a yes?” Alhaitham murmurs, and one of Kaveh’s eyes darts toward him, his jaw slack with confusion.

Alhaitham wets Kaveh’s nipple with his tongue and blows on it softly. Kaveh doesn’t quite manage to shut his mouth before a small moan slips out, and the sound nearly drives Alhaitham into a frenzy; he’s struck by a sudden desire to f*ck Kaveh properly, to hear him stutter complaints before becoming completely overwhelmed, his mouth hanging open as he grabs onto Alhaitham and yields to him for once, begging for more.

Kaveh nudges his hips upward with a soft hum, and Alhaitham considers teasing him for being so demanding—but he’s feeling generous, so he resumes stroking Kaveh’s co*ck, teasing his nipples with his tongue and breath.

Alhaitham doesn’t know which touch does it—his thumb rubbing beneath the head of Kaveh’s co*ck, his fingers tugging at a nipple, his teeth and tongue toying with the other—but before long, Kaveh gasps and wildly bucks his hips.

“Oh—hah, I—I’m—mm—” Kaveh whines and arches his back, shoving his chest against Alhaitham’s mouth as his co*ck spills onto his hand.

His breath catches and shakes as he recovers, and Alhaitham swirls his tongue over a nipple in the meantime, his thumb rubbing light circles over the other. Several seconds later, Kaveh goes boneless and lets out a rough groan (which is a sound that Alhaitham fully intends to replay in his mind the next time he’s alone with his own hand).

Then Kaveh mumbles something incoherent, and Alhaitham props himself up with an arm, holding his sticky hand aloft. “What was that?” he asks.

Kaveh casts an arm over his eyes. “Did I come on any of my papers?”

Alhaitham glances at the piles to confirm that they’re untouched. “No. Just my hand and your stomach. And…” Not bothering to hide his smirk, he reaches down and drags messy fingers up to Kaveh’s chest, drawing a circle around each nipple. “You’ve got a bit on your thoracic nuclei, here.”

Kaveh lazily bats at Alhaitham’s hand. “Only because you…wait. My what?”

“Thoracic nuclei.”

Sitting up partway, Kaveh squints down at Alhaitham. “Thoracic what? ”

“Seeing as you complained before about the word nipples, I figured you’d want me to use an alternative.”

After another moment of quiet confusion, Kaveh barks out a short laugh. “Unbelievable. How long have you been keeping that one in your back pocket?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alhaitham says breezily. (Except he does, and the answer is that he came up with that term the day after he and Kaveh first discussed the subject, along with several other alternatives.) “Would you prefer pectoral loci?”

Kaveh stares at him, and at first, Alhaitham worries that the joke has fallen flat—but then Kaveh slaps a hand over his mouth and snorts, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Alhaitham pinches his side, and Kaveh’s hand shoots down to stop him—and there, for just a second, is a gleaming grin that reaches Kaveh’s eyes. It’s quickly replaced by a scoff and a scowl, but the image lingers in Alhaitham’s mind, glinting like a speck of sun through a wall of clouds.

“I’ll get a washcloth,” Alhaitham says, sitting back.

“Wait, wait.” Kaveh sits up and grabs Alhaitham’s arm. “I need to, you know—you still haven’t…”

“I haven’t what?” Alhaitham’s eyes follow Kaveh’s gaze below his own beltline. “Oh. That’s not necessary. I was just trying to make you come.”

“But aren’t you…?” Kaveh’s grip loosens, and his hand slips from Alhaitham’s arm. “Did that—I mean, you’re no longer in the mood, then…?”

Well, Alhaitham is in the mood for a number of things, after watching Kaveh climax like that—but he doesn’t want to partake in those activities on the floor, nor does he want to rush them right before a meal. “I’m in the mood for dinner,” he says. “And a cup of tea. Do you have a preference? I get the impression that you haven’t relaxed at all since you first woke up this morning.”

“Oh, I’m plenty relaxed now,” Kaveh grumbles, as he slips his arms free of his shirt and tucks his co*ck back into his pants. “And I would have relaxed on the couch earlier, if someone hadn’t dragged me into housework the moment I got home.”

Ah. That hadn’t occurred to Alhaitham; he’d thought that helping Kaveh tackle the chaos in the study would alleviate his stress. “I see. I’ll wait for you to approach me, next time.”

“Next time, for…” Kaveh drapes the shirt over his forearm and gets to his feet, squinting at Alhaitham. “ What, organizing the study?”

“Perhaps your org*sm made you forget your surroundings,” Alhaitham says, “but if you look at the room around us, you’ll notice that there are several piles remaining.”

“Well, yes, obviously, but—I didn’t think you’d…”

Alhaitham hums distractedly, studying Kaveh’s bare chest, with its stiff nipples and those translucent trails of white decorating his skin. Despite disliking the texture, Alhaitham is tempted to lick up every drop, watching Kaveh squirm and stammer in response—and even more than that, he wants to grab the dip of Kaveh’s waist and shove him onto the desk, spread his legs apart and find out what he feels like inside.

But he’s still wary of Kaveh’s hesitance regarding power dynamics. In fact, Alhaitham wonders if he already pushed that boundary just now, too swept up in the moment to exercise enough caution.

“Was that alright?” Alhaitham asks.

“Was what?”

Alhaitham gestures rather insufficiently at Kaveh’s dirtied chest. “That.”

“The cum? It had to go somewhere. I’m just glad it didn’t get on my papers.”

“And before that?”

“Hm? You mean the…oh. That was perfectly fine.” Alhaitham nods, and Kaveh scrambles to add, “I mean, good! Not just fine. It was good.”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d enjoy, regarding your chest.”

“Oh. Well.” Kaveh’s cheeks flush dark. “I—I’d say you definitely figured it out. No, everything before now was fine, it’s just after…” He shakes his head and glances away, surveying the piles lined up on the floor. “Never mind.”

“I figured we could sit on the couch with tea. Would you rather do something else?” Admittedly, Alhaitham still isn’t entirely sure what Kaveh wants the two of them to do after a sexual encounter—especially given that the last time the two of them had sex, they immediately rushed to Lambad’s where Cyno and Tighnari were waiting for them.

“Hm?” Kaveh slowly drags his eyes back toward Alhaitham, still with that faraway look in them. “I’m fine with tea.”

“I don’t intend to run off,” Alhaitham says. “That was my reason for suggesting the tea.”

“The tea—oh.” Kaveh’s gaze finally focuses on him. “No, I know, I wasn’t talking about—yes, tea is perfect. We still need to use up that spiced kehwa tea, so let’s have that. And, well, if you change your mind and want me to return the favor…”

What does he mean, Return the favor? When had Alhaitham implied that their encounter just now was transactional? It’s not that complicated. He’d simply been struck by the urge to make Kaveh come, so he did just that. Alhaitham doesn’t require anything from Kaveh in return.

“Alright,” Alhaitham says, rather than questioning Kaveh’s logic and potentially instigating an argument. “I’ll go start the tea.”

The rest of the evening is decidedly uneventful. Within a few sips of tea, Kaveh begins rambling away, alternating between enthusiasm for his designs and complaints about his client. He talks for so long that he ends up grumbling over his half-full cup of tea going cold, and then he and Alhaitham start cooking dinner an hour later than planned.

After they’ve eaten, Alhaitham tries to help with the dishes—but Kaveh shoos him out of the kitchen, insisting that he go take his evening shower since it’s already so late.

Alhaitham’s shower is…a bit less peaceful.

Initially, as he scrubs his skin clean, he analyzes each moment of that encounter in the study, extracting as much information as he can. Kaveh hadn’t protested at any point; he’d complied quite easily, actually, after only a bit of teasing. And he hadn’t been tense, either, unlike that day on the couch when he froze beneath Alhaitham and hid his face behind an arm, unwilling to say what was bothering him. This time, Kaveh succumbed almost instantly, mindlessly moaning and enjoying the pleasure as Alhaitham touched him. He switched remarkably quickly from indignant scolding to bashful compliance, readily letting Alhaitham have his way with him.

And now Alhaitham wants more.

He wants Kaveh to argue—wants him to push back only to be pulled in, entirely forgetting why he protested in the first place. He wants to feel Kaveh yield the moment Alhaitham presses his fingers inside him, desperately clinging to Alhaitham as he’s filled with his co*ck, teeth digging into his lip to hold back a moan. And Alhaitham wants Kaveh to be loud, arching his back with a gasp, trembling with each whine.

Alhaitham’s hand trails downward, stroking his co*ck as his mind follows those thoughts to an imagined conclusion: Kaveh takes him deep, eyes fluttering with pleasure, each breath fast and frantic, and when he can’t hold back anymore, he bucks his hips and cries out that he’s coming, his voice wrecked by moans. f*ck, Alhaitham, he whines, I’m so—oh, gods—you feel so good—

And then Kaveh paints his stomach white, making a mess of himself as overwhelmed tears slip down his cheeks.

But the fantasy doesn’t stop there. As Kaveh whines beneath him, Alhaitham pulls out and kneels over Kaveh’s head, holding his co*ck so that he comes on Kaveh’s face, decorates that pretty skin. Kaveh’s wet cheeks flush red, and he squeezes his eyes shut, abashed and moaning, licking the mess from his lips, and—

Alhaitham gasps, spilling onto his hand. The shower stream instantly washes the mess from his skin, and he leans his forehead against the tile wall to catch his breath.

It’s a compelling fantasy—but would Kaveh ever allow it? What happened in the study feels like some sort of fluke. Alhaitham can’t imagine it happening a second time, especially not with verbal domination involved; the sound of his voice almost always manages to upset Kaveh somehow.

Sighing, Alhaitham splashes water against the tile wall and rinses it clean. There’s no use brooding over this. He needs to be patient and give Kaveh time to get comfortable.

It isn’t unusual for Alhaitham to struggle with patience when it comes to Kaveh, though. Even when the two of them first met, Alhaitham greedily downed Kaveh’s presence like honey wine, seeing no signs that their philosophies were incompatible. Once he’d drunk enough to see through the glass, he finally began to notice the problems he’d overlooked, and the sweetness suddenly gained a sour edge. He quickly got tired of dancing around their opposite perspectives, and became frustrated with staying quiet and pretending not to know why Kaveh’s supposed ‘luck’ was so bad—because it wasn’t luck, but rather a problem of Kaveh’s own making, a poisonous mix of idealism and guilt.

And eventually Alhaitham sobered, and his patience was gone.

Alhaitham didn’t have the fortitude back then to wait and let Kaveh deal with things on his own terms. He rushed the solution instead, and emptied every last drop of their friendship in the process.

(Then that empty bottle shattered, and buried glass in Alhaitham’s skin; and he was alone with that sting, left to grit his teeth and dig out each unpleasant piece.)

He hurried, and he hurt. He’s fully aware of the error he committed, and that his priorities were painfully skewed.

It’s almost ironic that Alhaitham grew up preferring books over the akasha system, always taking time to separate truth from lies, facts from bias…yet he hadn’t been patient enough to consider Kaveh’s personality more carefully, or else he would have realized that so many of Kaveh’s coping mechanisms hinged on his ability to ignore reality.

And at the time, Alhaitham hadn’t understood that there were more important things than determining truth and correctness. When he told Kaveh the source of his troubles, he’d been right about that—but he had been horribly wrong in the way that actually mattered, one that had nothing to do with facts or figures.

That’s yet another difference between them, which Alhaitham hadn’t noticed soon enough. Whenever Alhaitham encounters a problem, his solution begins the moment he identifies the cause. For Kaveh, though, it isn’t that simple; identifying the cause doesn’t inherently include accepting it. That’s a separate matter, and it’s one that often precludes the solution altogether. Sometimes the root cause of his problems becomes a rooted one, deeply ingrained in some aspect of Kaveh’s self—and at that point, Kaveh prefers to keep living with those problems, rather than risk a core part of his identity by uprooting the source.

It’s impractical. It’s downright foolish. Alhaitham does think that every person should believe in something they can steadfastly hold to, in order to maintain their values and sense of self—but what’s the point of clinging to something that causes misery? Why steadfastly believe a thing that only makes life more difficult, destructively testing a person’s resilience? People should find strength and comfort in their beliefs, however foolish or wrong they may be, and yet Kaveh firmly holds onto beliefs that make his life more difficult and inflict more weariness on him every day.

“Not this again,” Alhaitham mutters, sliding down to sit on the shower floor.

He tries not to think about things like this. He hates nothing more than a problem that can’t be solved—and that’s precisely what Kaveh is, in a way, because his immutable nature condemns him to be miserable.

Ever since their fight years ago, Alhaitham has tried to be patient when it comes to Kaveh. He’s tried to see the world from Kaveh’s perspective, accepting that this perspective can’t be changed—and he’s tried, so many times, to look at that world and figure out if there’s any way for Kaveh to cling to his beliefs without causing himself pain.

And it doesn’t seem possible. Kaveh’s core philosophies are inherently self-destructive. Anyone who gets close to him has no choice but to watch his light slowly dim as it’s buffeted by storms, and to feel his warmth fade away as it’s chilled by the cold. Kaveh is bright, so undeniably bright, and warm, and beautiful—but that only means that he feels the ugly dark and cold of the world all the more painfully.

Despite his frustration at watching Kaveh make things worse for himself, though, Alhaitham has tried to be patient. He listened to Kaveh that first night at the tavern, biting his tongue when he kept thinking I was right, I told him so, I knew this would happen. (Alhaitham would have preferred to find out that he’d been wrong, and that Kaveh had somehow managed to thrive in spite of his suffocating ideals.) He offered to let Kaveh live with him, knowing that he would end up seeing Kaveh’s self-inflicted misery firsthand, and that he’d be forced to bear witness to the exact things that caused his fight with Kaveh years ago.

He’s trying to be patient. He’s constantly testing that patience.

But that’s enough of that. Alhaitham had only meant to think about sex, before his mind followed a few thoughts too far.

Alhaitham wants to dominate Kaveh. And he can be patient with Kaveh, so of course he won’t pressure him to experiment with submissiveness—but he’s admittedly a bit annoyed that Kaveh clings so tightly to being in charge.

Of course, Alhaitham enjoys that dynamic. He likes when Kaveh shoves him to his knees and tells him what to do. He likes hearing Kaveh speak in that fond voice even as it taunts him, dripping with a sweet condescension that Alhaitham would detest hearing from anyone else. And he likes not having to think. When Alhaitham submits to Kaveh, he doesn’t have to overanalyze everything Kaveh is saying or worry that Kaveh might take offense to something he does: he can simply close his eyes and do as he’s told, with the assurance that whatever he does will satisfy Kaveh.

So, if Kaveh only wants Alhaitham to be submissive for the remainder of their experimentation, that’s fine. Kaveh’s personal comfort is imperative, and Alhaitham is certainly amenable to testing kinks that way.

But it seems unnecessary to limit themselves that way, when Alhaitham strongly suspects that Kaveh would enjoy the alternative. And although Alhaitham usually dislikes being in charge, he’s curious about how it would feel to have a more active role during sex, as opposed to making Kaveh feel good passively. While Alhaitham would be perfectly fine with being tied up and having his mouth used as a sleeve for Kaveh’s co*ck, he also wants Kaveh to be the one who lets go for once, letting Alhaitham dictate his pleasure.

That’s what it is, really—Alhaitham wants to be in control of Kaveh’s pleasure. The problem is that Kaveh currently doesn’t want Alhaitham to have that control…or maybe he does want that, and just doesn’t trust Alhaitham enough to give it to him.

Alhaitham doesn’t like the idea of shelving so many fantasies. He’s still hoping he’ll eventually see Kaveh with his hands bound and his mouth gagged, with that indignant flame in his eyes dimming to a hazy glow as he rides Alhaitham’s co*ck and helplessly moans.

And hoping that Kaveh will present his bare ass to Alhaitham, whimpering while Alhaitham spanks the skin red, rolling his hips with a leaking co*ck as he pretends not to enjoy it. (Kaveh can’t deny his interest in spanking—although maybe he wants it the other way around, with Alhaitham groaning and squirming on his lap, Kaveh’s mellow voice teasing that he hasn’t been good, fingers playing with his ass until Alhaitham starts begging…and, yes, Alhaitham is interested in that too, even if he also wants to try the alternative.)

Alhaitham can wait. He’s spent years sitting through hours-long meetings with the Sages, and for no reward, at that; he can wait a few weeks or months for Kaveh to submit during sex.

Assuming the two of them don’t fight so much that they abandon the experiment altogether, that is.

There’s a precedent for that.

The next morning, Alhaitham pauses halfway down the hall to the kitchen, studying the soft golden light emanating from around the corner. The air smells strangely like cooked meat and herbs, and the early quiet is broken by the sound of sizzling and scraping.

Squinting, Alhaitham continues to the end of the hall and peers into the kitchen, where he finds Kaveh stirring something in a bowl while a covered pan steams on the stove behind him. The sleeves of his pajama shirt are pushed up to reveal toned biceps, and his hair is scraped back into a messy bun, red clips scattered among the golden strands.

Alhaitham watches in confusion as Kaveh scoops a handful of batter from the bowl and starts squeezing it into an oval roll, scowling when the sticky mixture clings to his hands. “Damn it,” Kaveh mutters. “Why is it so…ugh!”

Leaning against the doorframe, Alhaitham says, “It’s easier—”

“f*ck!” Kaveh whirls around to face him, his eyes going wide. “You—is it already…?”

“It’s easier if you chill the batter in the icebox overnight,” Alhaitham says, gesturing toward the bowl. “It won’t stick to your hands as much.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t plan this in advance, so…”

“Is there a reason you desperately need to make kotlet before sunrise?” Alhaitham asks. It’s absurdly early for Kaveh, who normally sleeps until at least eight or nine when he can—although the past few weeks, he’s taken to wandering into the kitchen right around this time, expecting Alhaitham to press a cup of coffee into his waiting hands.

Which Alhaitham does, because Alhaitham has taken to making a cup of coffee with sugar every morning around this time.

“Damn it.” Kaveh flicks the batter off his fingers and into the bowl, then trips over to the sink and starts rinsing his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I know you have a routine, so I meant to be out of the way before—”

“It’s fine,” Alhaitham says. Of course, it’s not entirely fine, because he does have a routine, and his mood sours whenever that routine is unexpectedly derailed—but at the same time, his mornings become much more interesting when Kaveh appears in the kitchen for breakfast or coffee. (And regardless, he’d rather not start the morning with a fight.)

Kaveh sighs in exasperation. “No, it’s not. I’ve thrown off your entire day, all because…” He shuts off the water and hastily dries his hands, then scurries over to the lidded pan on the stove. “Damn it. Alright, forget the kotlet. I think I at least finished the—”

“Kaveh, wait!” Alhaitham says, as Kaveh reaches for the lid of the pan—but it’s too late, and Kaveh’s hand connects with the burning hot handle.

Kaveh yelps in pain and snatches his hand back, hissing through his teeth. Moving on instinct, Alhaitham lunges forward and grabs Kaveh by the arm, dragging him back to the sink and turning on the faucet. He quickly checks the water temperature to ensure that it’s cool, then yanks Kaveh’s hand under it and holds it there.

“f*ck,” Kaveh mutters.

Beneath the running water, the burn glows a bright angry red—but at least it doesn’t seem to go deeper than the surface. “Keep your hand here,” Alhaitham tells Kaveh. “You said the food in the pan is finished? Is there anything else that needs to be done?”

“Wh…” Kaveh glances at the stove. “Oh. I—I think they’re done. Just check that the liquid evaporated, and…take them off the heat, I guess.”

Nodding, Alhaitham releases Kaveh’s arm and turns to the stove. He uses the nearest dish towel to lift the lid, only to encounter a plate pressing down the food beneath. “Is this…” Alhaitham sets aside the lid and removes the plate as well, revealing olive-green rolls of leaves precisely arranged in the pan. “Stuffed grape leaves,” Alhaitham realizes. One of the snacks he consistently enjoys, except he rarely has the patience to make them and dislikes how all the local restaurants season theirs. “The liquid is evaporated, yes. How should I store them?”

“No, don’t—I’ll get it—”

Kaveh steps away from the sink, and Alhaitham instantly surges toward him, grabbing him by the waist and pinning him against the counter with his weight. “No,” he says firmly, holding Kaveh’s hand under the water again. “Keep it under the water for at least ten minutes. I’ll handle the food.”

The sound Kaveh makes in response could almost be described as anguished. “Gods, now I’ve completely thrown off your routine—and ruined your morning—I—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Alhaitham says. If anything, he’s worried about the fact that Kaveh won’t keep his damn hand under the running water. “I’ll pack up the grape leaves in a container, and then I’ll get something for your hand. Should I put the kotlet batter in the icebox, or does it need to be made now?”

“No!” Kaveh says. “No, it’s not—you can’t—you aren’t supposed to be—”

“Relax,” Alhaitham says, unsure why Kaveh sounds so dismayed. “I’m not trying to interfere with any of your plans. I’ll just put the batter away, then.” He steps back, lingering for a moment to squeeze Kaveh’s shoulder. “And stay there.”

Alhaitham removes the pan from the burner and turns off the stove, then covers the bowl of batter and slips it into the icebox. After a quick glance to confirm that Kaveh is still standing at the sink, he finds a storage container and carefully transfers the stuffed grape leaves into it. As he works, Kaveh says nothing, tightly gripping the edge of the counter with his unburned hand, shoulders slumped. The sight makes Alhaitham’s stomach twist, and he grits his teeth, setting the container of grape leaves next to the sink.

“I’ll get medical supplies,” Alhaitham says, heading toward the doorway. “Keep the water running over your hand.”

He must sound like a bird incessantly chirping the same few notes again and again, but Kaveh can’t be trusted to take care of himself. It’s as if the man is instinctively driven to do the opposite. He might genuinely forget that his hand is injured if someone doesn’t remind him of it every thirty seconds.

It takes Alhaitham a minute to track down the aloe vera plant that Tighnari gifted to them a while back, and since Alhaitham doesn’t want to leave Kaveh alone in the kitchen for long, he carries the whole potted plant back to the kitchen instead of cutting a leaf first.

Kaveh shoots him a quizzical look as he parades the pot through the doorway and thunks it down on the counter. “Alhaitham,” he says, “I do not need an entire f*cking succulent for a minor burn on my hand—”

“I’m aware,” Alhaitham says. He uses a sharp knife to cut off one of the plant’s lower leaves, then retrieves a pair of shears to open the leaf. “But you’re not good at holding still. How does your hand feel?”

“It’s fine. And it’s been ten minutes, so—”

“Seven,” Alhaitham says, pointing to the clock on the wall. “Three less than ten. Keep your hand under the water.”

“But it’s basically—”

“Do you want me to recount your approach to wound care the next time we see Tighnari? The topic would make for a lively conversation.”

“No! You—threatening to tattle on me to Tighnari, really? Surely I don’t deserve one of his lectures just because I kept my hand under water for seven minutes instead of ten.”

“Ideally it would be fifteen or twenty, but I’m keeping my expectations realistic. Is it that difficult to stay still for three more minutes? Do I need to handcuff you to the sink so that you don’t move?”

“Oh, how creative,” Kaveh mutters. Then he abruptly falls silent, and the fight drains from his eyes, replaced by a strangely morose expression.

Alhaitham can’t imagine how the situation warrants that bad of a mood—but then again, Kaveh’s emotions have always been a bit wild and untamed, sometimes thrashing around in ways that Alhaitham doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why Kaveh feels so strongly about insignificant things; he only knows that Kaveh does.

When three minutes have passed, Alhaitham shuts off the water and herds Kaveh to their dining table, and Kaveh sinks onto one of the chairs with a sigh. Alhaitham sets the bandages on the table and pulls up a chair for himself, one of his knees brushing Kaveh’s as he gently takes his hand and inspects the burn.

It’s bright and inflamed, but doesn’t seem too serious—there’s no open wound, and it hasn’t gone past the surface layer of skin. Pinching a piece of aloe leaf between his fingers, Alhaitham rubs the gel onto the burned parts of Kaveh’s hand to soothe some of the pain.

“I—” Kaveh’s legs twitch, and he reaches toward the leaf. “I can do it myself, you know—you can go about your morning—”

“Hold still,” Alhaitham murmurs.

“But…”

Satisfied that he’s covered the burn, Alhaitham guides Kaveh’s hand to rest palm-up on the table. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He ignores Kaveh’s protests as he returns to the kitchen for the shears, quickly rinsing off his hands while he’s there. When Alhaitham comes back a few moments later, Kaveh is sullenly sitting as he left him, eyes downcast, shoulders hunched.

“I’ll do it,” Kaveh says, holding out his uninjured hand—which Alhaitham disregards, seating himself once more and picking up the roll of gauze. “What, do you…do you think I’m completely incompetent?” He lets out a frustrated sigh as Alhaitham measures out the gauze and cuts a piece. “Come on. Just let me—” Alhaitham reaches out to take his burned hand, but Kaveh snatches it back with a scowl. “Enough! Are you even listening to me? No, I suppose you are, and you just—you don’t think I can do anything right. Well, just say that, then—”

Alhaitham makes another grab for Kaveh’s hand, and Kaveh jumps to his feet, nearly toppling his chair as he shoves it back. Sighing, Alhaitham sits back in his seat and looks up at Kaveh, tightly pressing his lips shut.

They stare at each other in silence, and in the soft lamplight, Alhaitham can make out the teary sheen over Kaveh’s gaze; not quite crying, but on the verge of it. He’ll probably flee to his room any second now, and will likely lock the door and refuse to emerge until Alhaitham leaves for work.

And Alhaitham doesn’t know what to do. He never knows what to do when Kaveh gets like this.

Alhaitham looks at the abandoned scrap of leaf on the table, with a drop of gel oozing from its tip, just about to fall. Taking a deep breath, he meets Kaveh’s eyes and delicately reaches out a hand. “Kaveh,” he says, as softly as he can. “I’m aware that you can do this on your own.”

Kaveh stares down at him, his brows drawn together as if he’s wincing. “Then…just let me—give me the bandage, and—”

“No,” Alhaitham says. He’s not even sure why he’s so intent on doing this for Kaveh; normally he would just shrug and let Kaveh handle it himself, rather than waste effort arguing about it. That’s the practical thing to do. “Let me.”

It does irritate him, though, that Kaveh refuses to let another person help him with an injury, of all things. Can’t Kaveh’s stubborn pride at least allow for that?

“Please,” Alhaitham adds. When Kaveh doesn’t immediately leave, Alhaitham tentatively leans forward and takes Kaveh’s wrist, tugging him back toward the chair.

Slowly, Kaveh sits and lets Alhaitham smooth his thumb over his wrist and palm, back and forth, until some of the tension recedes.

Kaveh’s hands—they are capable, although they insist on doing more than their share. Years ago, Alhaitham watched those slender fingers page through books in the House of Daena for hours at a time, fervently penning notes in the margins; in desert ruins, he saw them trace walls of hieroglyphs and marvel at towering pillars, gesturing to architectural features as he explained their ingenuity. Ever since Kaveh moved into the house, Alhaitham has seen those hands sketch designs and craft models, chop vegetables and sprinkle seasonings, line his eyes with makeup and fasten clips in his hair.

And for the past few weeks, Alhaitham has felt those hands carding through his hair, gripping his waist, pinning their bodies close.

“Alhaitham,” Kaveh says, and Alhaitham blinks, realizing that he’s been silently holding Kaveh’s hand and staring at it.

Alhaitham grabs the bandage and loosely wraps it around the burn, then finally releases Kaveh’s hand. “You should wash your hand and change the bandage in a few hours. I’ll do it for you before I leave for work, if that’s easier. And then you should go to the Bimarstan sometime today and have an actual doctor look at it, just in case.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Kaveh says, staring at the table with his hands loosely clasped on his lap. “I only need one hand to draw, anyway, so…”

“Why were you—” No, he shouldn’t ask why. That word always makes Kaveh think that Alhaitham is interrogating his very reason for existing. “What do you need the food for? If it’s some sort of obligation, I’m willing to help just this once—”

“No! Don’t,” Kaveh says. “This wasn’t supposed to create work for you. I…I was just…” He sighs and slumps forward, his head hanging low. “Trying to make lunch for you.”

The last words are muttered almost unintelligibly, and although Alhaitham hears them, they don’t make sense—because what reason could Kaveh have for preparing lunch for Alhaitham before sunrise? As much as Alhaitham appreciates when Kaveh brings home leftovers for him, this goes far beyond that.

“For me?” Alhaitham says. “Is there a special occasion that I’m forgetting?”

“No, just…as thanks for yesterday.”

Oh. Kaveh does seem to feel more secure when good deeds are transactional, so Alhaitham shouldn’t be surprised that Kaveh is trying to repay him for the meal yesterday. And yet, Alhaitham almost feels irked by the revelation—because why does Kaveh feel compelled to do this for everything he receives? Does he plant a tree for every month of oxygen that he breathes, too?

Alhaitham wants to tell Kaveh that it’s unnecessary, because that’s the truth: it is factually unnecessary for Kaveh to repay him, and the trouble isn’t worth giving Alhaitham a single home-cooked meal. Except Kaveh already looks so glum, and Alhaitham has a feeling that calling his efforts unnecessary will only worsen his mood.

“It’s fine,” Alhaitham says. “I can still have the grape leaves as a snack or light lunch, and we can finish making the kotlet for dinner tonight. We’ll be able to cook much faster since you already prepared the batter, and the mixture should be easier to shape after several hours in the icebox. Does that sound alright?”

“I was just…” Kaveh groans. “I was trying to—but now I’ve thrown off your entire morning, and—”

“You haven’t. I still have plenty of time to get ready.”

“But your routine…”

“I’m not a machine, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says dryly. “I don’t break down if I’m unable to execute a function.” When Kaveh says nothing, Alhaitham nudges his ankle with his foot. “My programming is a bit more advanced than that, you know.”

Kaveh doesn’t respond, not even with a slight smile, and Alhaitham sighs. He doesn’t know how to make Kaveh stop looking so upset. It bothers him to see that morose look on Kaveh’s face, but he can’t think of any kindness that would actually be welcomed.

Well. Except for one.

“Does your hand still hurt?” Alhaitham asks, resting a hand on Kaveh’s knee. “Do you need me to distract you from the pain?”

“What…” Kaveh looks up as Alhaitham slides that hand up to his bare thigh, eyes pointedly moving from Kaveh’s face to between his legs. “Wait, you—you don’t—at seven in the morning?!”

Alhaitham shrugs, and his fingers creep higher, slipping beneath the hem of Kaveh’s shorts.

Kaveh’s thighs twitch. “S-seriously? Didn’t you get your fill yesterday?”

“My fill? No, actually. I didn’t get to swallow a single drop.” Alhaitham spreads his fingers to grab Kaveh’s thigh, then slides his other palm up to graze the slight bulge beneath the fabric of his shorts. “Maybe you could fix that.”

“I—uh, I mean, shouldn’t I be doing that for you instead, in return for—”

“How will that solve my problem?” Alhaitham presses down more firmly with his hand, and Kaveh’s hips jerk. “We just established that I haven’t had my fill. If you really want to satisfy my appetite, you should give me a taste.” He hears Kaveh mutter the word shameless, and his lips twitch in amusem*nt. “Well, Kaveh?”

Distantly, Alhaitham wonders why he feels these compulsions so often lately. Why does he feel the need to touch Kaveh like this, when he rarely thought about it before they began experimenting? Why will he be disappointed if he doesn’t get to suck Kaveh off right now, when a half hour ago the only thing he wanted was a cup of coffee?

Kaveh keeps stammering and staring at Alhaitham’s hand with wide eyes, as if it’s a viper that will bite if he moves too suddenly. “What would you…I mean, shouldn’t you be…”

“Is that a no?” Alhaitham asks, leaning closer. He rubs his palm over Kaveh’s co*ck and uses his other hand to tease the inside of his thigh, where the marks from a week ago have since faded. “Or are you just worried that it will disrupt my routine?”

“I—I—” Kaveh gently rests a hand on Alhaitham’s wrist. “Maybe later,” he says, his face a bit pinched.

Alhaitham withdraws his hands and starts gathering up the supplies on the table. “Alright.”

“And—and you don’t need to make coffee for me today, since I’ve held you up, so—I’ll go clean up the kitchen, and—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Alhaitham says, standing. “You need to keep the bandage dry. Besides, what time did you go to bed last night? I assume your sleep schedule was terrible, as usual. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you for breakfast.”

He’s almost out the door when Kaveh’s stuttering finally solidifies into words. “Alhaitham, I can’t just make you—that’s not—I mean, how am I supposed to…in return for…”

Alhaitham turns around to see a clearly distraught look on Kaveh’s face, those bright red eyes darting around as if he’s surrounded by a swarm of cicins. It’s the same expression he’d worn after Alhaitham gave him that scarf last week, right before he started rambling about how he couldn’t possibly pay Alhaitham back—because somehow Kaveh can’t grasp the idea of receiving something free of charge and with no strings attached.

Why does he act like that concept is so foreign and bizarre? Back when they were students, it was perfectly normal for the two of them to give things to each other. Granted, Alhaitham wasn’t buying Kaveh accessories that cost a few months’ worth of rent, but if he had, at least Kaveh wouldn’t have jumped to the conclusion that Alhaitham required Kaveh to reimburse him.

Alhaitham doesn’t know how to reassure Kaveh with words, though, and as for actions, there’s not much he can do outside of sex. Even if Alhaitham were a tactile person, he can’t imagine calming Kaveh down with something like a hug. Maybe it would work coming from one of Kaveh’s friends, like Tighnari or Cyno—but Kaveh likely wouldn’t view the gesture as genuine if Alhaitham attempted it.

“I think it’s impractical for someone with an injured hand to clean the kitchen,” Alhaitham says. “And it’s equally unwise for a busy architect to get less than six hours of sleep. Your career depends on your mind, and your mind needs rest.”

Kaveh sighs and gets to his feet. “Alright, fine. I suppose I could afford to sleep for another hour.” He makes his way to the doorway, pausing at the threshold. “And thank you for…taking care of things. I’m sorry again for disrupting your morning.”

And then he’s gone before Alhaitham can disagree.

Alhaitham’s hands itch to touch Kaveh now, if only to rest a hand on his shoulder or thigh. There’s a sense in which Alhaitham feels naked from the lack of physical contact, almost like he’s forgotten to wear one of his gloves, or is walking around wearing only one of his shoes.

It doesn’t make sense. Alhaitham spent years knowing Kaveh from a distance, only interacting with him through academic journals, and he was rarely bothered by that state of things—and yet now he feels like he’ll experience a fit of madness if he isn’t near Kaveh every day, touching him both morning and night.

Where is this feeling coming from? What changed?

Is it because they’re having sex now? Is it the fact that Alhaitham vividly fantasized about Kaveh the night before, making his body crave an ounce of physical contact to make up for the relentless desire he feels?

His stomach twists in a way that he can’t articulate—and he can’t stand that, can’t stand when he doesn’t have the words to describe something.

It’s not discomfort from his routine being disrupted. It’s an…urge, craving, need, want? None of those words feel entirely correct. The feeling is just…

Weird.

Alhaitham typically tries to avoid using that word as a descriptor, because it doesn’t really mean anything—it just indicates a lack of understanding on the speaker’s part, often the derisive kind. For instance, he remembers the early days of that joint research project years ago, when he and Kaveh were stuck working with students who lobbed that word at everything in their path. What’s this weird writing? someone would ask, pointing to a line of complex hieroglyphs. Weren’t they smart enough to write with words? Or they would look at an architectural feature that was a clear stroke of genius, a combination of function and aesthetics that practically made Kaveh drool, and perfunctorily say, They built weird stuff.

And the students used the word to describe people, too. When Alhaitham cringed at drinking warm water from a canteen, or sat down to read a book because a conversation lost his interest, or deadpanned a joke and everyone thought he was being serious, they would ask, Why are you acting so weird?

Now he’s reminded: during one of their early expeditions to the desert with that research team, the group had ventured into high-ceilinged ruins where every click of heels and scuff of shoes bounced off the walls. Most of the students chattered over Kaveh’s attempts to educate them on the architecture, and the acoustics of the space only amplified their voices, layers of words stacking louder and louder until the sound crashed in Alhaitham’s ears like cymbals striking his skull, and he winced and squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritted, body tensed.

He doesn’t remember the exact comment, but there it was again, that word weird—and Alhaitham spun on his heel and strode out of the room, clutching his head as those noxious echoes battered his brain.

Down the hall, around a corner, up a flight of worn stairs, and then he plopped himself down on the stone floor and let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.

Only to tense all over again when he heard soft footfalls quietly shuffling up the stairs after him. As the sound grew closer, Alhaitham bit back a frustrated shout, wishing desperately to be alone somewhere quiet.

“Are you alright?” a familiar voice murmured, and Alhaitham’s eyes snapped open, flicking upward to see Kaveh.

“It was too loud,” Alhaitham said.

“I figured.” Kaveh lowered himself to the ground next to Alhaitham, close enough that his rolled-up sleeve brushed against Alhaitham’s bare arm. “It’s a bit difficult to appreciate the majesty of this place with everyone chattering like that. I know they’re just excited, but…”

“They’re annoying. And loud.” Alhaitham was aware that he’d already said the second part, but it bore repeating: even in the hallway, he could still hear voices drifting from the distant chamber.

Kaveh sighed. “I don’t think they mean any harm by it. If they realized how the noise affected you, I’m sure they’d keep their voices down.”

Alhaitham didn’t think he agreed, but he also didn’t see any point in debating the matter. Kaveh incessantly saw the good in others, and tended to look for charitable motives where there were none; he’d probably speak kindly of the other students no matter what Alhaitham said. “This trip would be much more efficient with just the two of us.”

“We can’t just leave behind our entire research team,” Kaveh said. “But, well, you’re right. And the mood is rather irreverent, with them shouting and dismissing the genius of this place. I’d like a chance to quietly take everything in.”

“Quietly?” Alhaitham echoed. “You mean you wouldn’t spend hours explaining every single architectural feature to me?”

“Oh?” Kaveh’s smile gleamed in the torchlight. “You mean you won’t find my voice loud and annoying, and loud?”

Alhaitham shrugged. “You say things that are worth listening to. And your voice sounds nice to me.”

At that, Kaveh ducked his head sheepishly. “High praise, coming from the man who can’t stand most people.”

“You aren’t like most people.”

“Because I’m absurd to care about beauty and aesthetics, as the Akademiya keeps telling me.”

“That’s not absurdity,” Alhaitham said. “You have a perspective that others don’t. Humanity would never make any progress if everyone saw the same things in the same way.”

When Alhaitham said that, he’d expected Kaveh to puff his chest and agree, scorning the unenlightened masses—but instead Kaveh looked at him the same way he’d regarded the ruins a few moments ago, pensive and almost awed. The softness in his eyes did something to Alhaitham’s chest, making it flutter and twist with a feeling he couldn’t pin down.

“Well, then,” Kaveh said quietly, “you have a perspective that others don’t, too. Because not many people see my point of view that way.”

In that moment, Alhaitham wanted to reach out and—and what?

He couldn’t pin down that desire, either. He only knew that he felt an urge to prove Kaveh’s words right: that other people didn’t admire Kaveh’s passion, didn’t admire Kaveh the way Alhaitham did.

But he didn’t know how to act on that urge. He couldn’t figure out what it was compelling him to do.

“Must be because we’re both geniuses,” Alhaitham said dryly.

Kaveh snorted and rolled his eyes. “Please, not that word. I’m tired of how it’s used to…to set us apart from the others. I mean, we’re all here to learn and research these ruins, aren’t we? There’s no difference between us.”

Alhaitham didn’t entirely agree. He disliked the genius label, of course, but not because he cared about being alienated from people who were less talented—that concern was Kaveh’s alone. “We’re here to learn and research these ruins, yes. But I still maintain that it would be easier to get work done without everyone else around.”

“I think you just want me all to yourself,” Kaveh said, smiling and nudging Alhaitham’s shoulder.

“That too.”

To his confusion, Kaveh’s eyebrows shot upward, as if Alhaitham’s response was somehow unexpected. “Admitting that so boldly, hm? Don’t you have any shame about hoarding your senior’s attention?”

His voice was definitely teasing that time, which didn’t make sense; Alhaitham hadn’t been cracking a joke when he agreed that he preferred having time alone with Kaveh. Still, Alhaitham got the feeling that he should match Kaveh’s tone this time, even if he didn’t understand the meaning of it. “Why should I be ashamed of enjoying your company?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “And who wouldn’t want a one-on-one lesson about ancient architecture with Kshahrewar’s star pupil?”

“You say that now,” Kaveh said, leaning closer, “but if I had you to myself, I’d talk your ears off until you started thinking, You know, maybe those other students aren’t so bad, after all.”

If I had you to myself. Those words made Alhaitham’s skin inexplicably warm, and it took him a few moments to muster a response. “No. I’d still want you.”

“Oh.” Kaveh blinked a few times, gold lashes fluttering. “Well, the feeling’s mutual, but…” His eyes darted away, and when he met Alhaitham’s gaze again, his composure was restored. “How about this—once we finish this preliminary survey of the area, we can send everyone back to the Akademiya early and stay behind together.” His lips curled upward conspiratorially, and Alhaitham found himself mirroring the expression. “And then I can give my devoted junior the private tutoring he deserves, hm?”

“You’re making our plan sound more scandalous than it is, senior,” Alhaitham said. “If you don’t choose your words more carefully, our research team might start spreading rumors.”

“I—wha—they—” Kaveh spluttered for several seconds, his cheeks noticeably darker. “W-we’re the ones leading this project, though! It’s hardly strange if we spend more time examining the place.”

“I don’t disagree.” Alhaitham leaned closer, amused by how Kaveh’s eyes widened comically. “But it’s human nature to gossip, and you’d generate some very compelling material if you stayed behind for some private tutoring with your favorite junior.”

“But—but it’s not—” Kaveh huffed and gently shoved Alhaitham back, rolling his eyes at Alhaitham’s quiet laugh in response. “Fine, let them talk. I don’t care what they think we’re doing—it’s a small price to pay for your company.”

And now, years later, Alhaitham remembers those words as he stares at the chair where Kaveh was sitting just a few minutes ago. A small price to pay for your company—but these days, Kaveh pays rent for that same company while wishing that he could be far away from it.

Alhaitham can name this feeling in his chest, at least, hollow and dull: it’s how it feels to remember something that used to be there and isn’t anymore.

When he and Kaveh fought and stopped speaking to each other—months after that conversation in the ancient hall of those ruins—that feeling had quietly gnawed at Alhaitham in the ensuing months. Any time he recalled a fond memory, it would echo in the empty space left behind, magnifying the absence of all the things that were gone. And because Alhaitham had no way to fill that space, all he could do was stay away from it; he locked that door and avoided venturing into the emptiness, so that he wouldn’t hear those echoes.

Alhaitham sighs. In hindsight, even during that conversation in the ruins, there had been signs that his and Kaveh’s differences would eventually become irreconcilable—but Alhaitham had been too distracted by the warmth of Kaveh’s presence, to consider that one day he might feel cold.

Being with Kaveh had always been…comfortable. As a student, Alhaitham had found his classmates to be uninteresting at best and intolerable at worst, and in turn, they all saw him as arrogant and eccentric; as a result, interacting with them was never enjoyable or worthwhile.

But the things that set Alhaitham apart were traits that he’d always seen as unremarkable. His grandmother had never told him that it was odd to bury his nose in a book whenever he was bored. In fact, she’d encouraged it. Nor had she ever remarked on his hatred of strong scents, or the foods that he spat out because their texture made his stomach turn; she simply avoided those things once she was aware of them, out of consideration for his comfort. And before Alhaitham enrolled at the Akademiya, it never occurred to him that other people’s jokes always landed as intended, or that people would expect his blunt honesty to be softened into something more palatable. After all, his grandmother never asked him to modify his manner of communication for her sake. She usually knew what he meant, and in the rare case that she didn’t, she trusted that he intended no harm.

So when he began his studies at the Akademiya, Alhaitham moved through life the way he always had—except suddenly, his quotidian habits were seen as being weird.

Of course, Alhaitham didn’t care what they thought, because he didn’t require the company of others. Still, he immediately noticed that Kaveh was different from the rest—that he never criticized Alhaitham’s supposed eccentricities, or interrogated his inexplicable discomfort with certain things—and that consideration wasn’t lost on Alhaitham.

Kaveh. It feels wrong to stand here and let him walk away, somewhere Alhaitham can’t see or touch him. Wrong like he’s been sitting in the same spot in a classroom for weeks, only for someone to steal that seat halfway through the term and force him to find a new spot on the opposite side of the room.

This room feels wrong. He feels wrong.

What is this?

Alhaitham doesn’t feel like himself, lately—or, more accurately, he doesn’t feel like any recent version of himself. He’s been hurtled back to his younger years when, despite his indifference to the opinions of others, he’d been deeply affected by what Kaveh thought of him.

From the start, Kaveh saw Alhaitham differently. And not always correctly, at that. Their very first meeting arose from a misperception on Kaveh’s part, where he thought that Alhaitham was being ostracized by members of his darshan when really, Alhaitham was just studying and doing his best to tune out everyone’s prattling. (With that being the case, Alhaitham hadn’t exactly welcomed Kaveh’s interruption, at first.)

But even during that initial interaction, Kaveh did understand Alhaitham in some respects. He didn’t take Alhaitham’s curtness as an insult, nor did he crowd Alhaitham’s personal space—and throughout their conversation, he was refreshingly uninterested in assessing Alhaitham’s level of genius. Unlike the other students, who all sized up potential acquaintances to judge whether a friendship with someone would become a threat to their ego, Kaveh had simply wanted to get to know Alhaitham as a person.

And there were times, too, when Alhaitham thought Kaveh had misjudged him, only to then wonder if maybe he’d misjudged himself—or if maybe he had been correct about himself until he met Kaveh, and changed in certain respects as they grew closer.

Because sometimes being around Kaveh seemed to make Alhaitham act out of character. Kaveh made him smile every time they were together, despite Alhaitham’s reputation for being inexpressive. He made Alhaitham lose track of time talking about philosophy and life, for so many hours that night turned to dawn and Alhaitham almost didn’t mind his ruined sleep schedule. And Kaveh made him reconsider his long-held belief that he had no interest in social interactions, seeing as Alhaitham was certainly interested in interactions with Kaveh, and would go out of his way to spend time with him, even if that meant skipping a class or going on a midnight walk.

(Admittedly, Alhaitham skipped plenty of classes for other reasons—but if his and Kaveh’s schedules ever kept them away from each other for a few days, Alhaitham would skip even the classes that interested him.)

And for the first time since the days of his grandmother’s declining health, Alhaitham had found himself taking care of someone. He did his best to advise Kaveh when letters from his mother depressed him, and to haul Kaveh away from marathon projects so that he didn’t miss too many meals. He listened to Kaveh’s worries, and did his best to understand them, too—to pinpoint the source of Kaveh’s troubles and identify a solution, so that Kaveh wouldn’t be so weighed down by his woes.

Alhaitham has never been the sort of person to judge his worth based on his usefulness to others, but it did matter to him that Kaveh recognized his efforts. Whenever Kaveh thanked him for something with a fond smile, Alhaitham felt reassured that he was doing things correctly, despite the fact that he didn’t usually forge connections with other people and was often told that he was unpleasant to interact with. So Alhaitham considered it a success when he managed to surprise Kaveh with a coffee at the right time, or managed to distract him from his worries by asking him about art or architecture. That particular sense of satisfaction wasn’t something he could get from deciphering symbols or studying ancient texts.

And before they became friends, Alhaitham never would have cared if someone declared him to be callous and unfeeling, and said they wished they’d never met him. Those words wouldn’t have hurt him in the slightest.

But it hurt to hear those things from Kaveh.

For the first time, Alhaitham had questioned if he really was missing some central component that enabled everyone else to seem human. He’d never had a reason to care about that question before, until Kaveh ended their friendship and left him to wonder.

These days, though, Alhaitham doesn’t care what Kaveh thinks of him. There’s no friendship at stake, so it makes no difference if Kaveh sees him as self-centered or unfeeling; Kaveh’s opinion doesn’t have any effect on Alhaitham.

Or…it shouldn’t have an effect.

Alhaitham doesn’t care what other people think, so there’s no reason for him to care what Kaveh thinks. He shouldn’t care even if Kaveh is right, because clearly Alhaitham has successfully fostered a comfortable life for himself, so it’s not as if his supposedly horrible personality is obstructing his goals.

Alhaitham has spent years feeling unbothered by how Kaveh views him. He shouldn’t care now.

Unless he does.

After all, Kaveh has always brought out the side of Alhaitham that cares, for better or for worse.

Alhaitham could have predicted this. He always likes to say that Kaveh acts as his mirror, but he’d forgotten the most disconcerting thing about mirrors: that when a person looks at their reflection in one, it often conflicts with the vision of themself that they see in their head.

Their face lacks the symmetry they’d imagined, or there are wrinkles in skin they thought was smooth, or their teeth don’t sit quite as straight as they hoped. The mirror reflects an opposite image, true—but in doing so, it also reveals aspects of the original.

Being around Kaveh allows Alhaitham to observe features of the world that he wouldn’t have noticed on his own, but Kaveh’s presence also has a less convenient effect: it forces Alhaitham to perceive parts of himself that he normally prefers to overlook.

And Alhaitham can’t pretend that he isn’t bothered by what Kaveh thinks of him, not when almost every single interaction between them leaves Alhaitham searching for where he went wrong.

There’s nothing he can do about that now, though, so Alhaitham cleans up the kitchen and prepares breakfast, then goes to fetch Kaveh from bed.

When Kaveh doesn’t answer the knock on his door, Alhaitham cracks it open and peers inside. Morning sunlight pours into the room, except Kaveh seems to have burrowed beneath the bedsheets like a weasel digging into dirt, forming a lump of fabric shielded from the sun.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, and there’s still no response. “Kaveh.”

Sighing, he approaches the bed. If he knew Kaveh’s schedule for sure, he’d leave him to sleep in—but Kaveh very well might have some meeting that he can’t afford to miss.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham repeats. He rests his hand on the Kaveh-shaped lump and lightly shakes it. “I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed.”

Kaveh mumbles incoherently, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.

Snorting, Alhaitham sits on the bed and tugs at the sheets, freeing one corner to lift the fabric upward.

A rumpled Kaveh squints up at him, hair frizzy and unkempt, lips scrunched in a pout. The sight of him is…well, it could be considered endearing by some people, probably, although Alhaitham wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s one of them. “Breakfast,” Alhaitham says, and then yanks the covers off Kaveh completely, leaving him no way to hide from the sun.

Kaveh groans and buries his face against the pillow. “I told you…”

“I’m making coffee,” Alhaitham says, and leaves to do just that.

(Kaveh eventually wanders into the kitchen just as Alhaitham finishes making his cup of coffee with sugar.)

Alhaitham’s workday goes far too slowly, with only a brief reprieve when he takes a break to eat the stuffed grape leaves Kaveh made. Tasting the food—which is well-made, as to be expected—is satisfying in a way that a snack bought from the bazaar isn’t; it’s one thing for Kaveh to bring home leftovers, but aside from Alhaitham’s grandmother, no one has ever packed a lunch for him. Even though the gesture was technically unnecessary, it feels…strangely comforting.

After eating, though, Alhaitham starts imagining ways he could ‘thank’ Kaveh once he gets home—which leaves him too distracted to properly do his work, and not for the first time. Reasoning that he worked late the day before, Alhaitham packs up his things and goes home early, since it’s pointless to try reading proposals when his mind keeps playing out fantasies of Kaveh moaning on his hands and knees.

As Alhaitham walks through the front door of the house and heads toward the bathroom to freshen up, he notes that Kaveh’s keys are hanging on the wall hook. Good. Maybe he can tempt Kaveh into taking a break from work for some stress relief.

Alhaitham emerges a few minutes later to find Kaveh poking his head out of the study, dressed down in a soft tunic and loose pants cinched at his ankles. “Oh!” Kaveh says. “I thought I heard you come in. You’re back early.”

For a moment, Alhaitham stares. Kaveh looks strikingly comfortable and homey, dressed like that. It’s the sort of outfit that most people only wear around their own house, as opposed to the clothes they might don when visiting someone else’s…and of course Alhaitham has seen Kaveh in clothes like this before, and pajamas, even—but combined with the memory of Kaveh drowsily squinting from beneath his bedsheets that morning, the sight almost makes Kaveh seem like an entirely different person. As if he’s Alhaitham’s lover or spouse, maybe, instead of his disagreeable roommate.

“Is something wrong?” Kaveh asks, when Alhaitham hasn’t replied.

“No,” Alhaitham says, recovering. “I worked late yesterday, so I came home earlier today.”

“Precise about your work hours, as always.” Rubbing his wrist, Kaveh steps out of the study to join Alhaitham in the living room. “Well, I was just about to take a break, so…” He flops onto one of the couches and stretches out his lean legs. “I hope you don’t mind the company.”

“If I did, I’d just go to my room.” Alhaitham wedges himself between Kaveh’s head and the arm of the couch, resisting the urge to slip a palm beneath the loose collar of Kaveh’s shirt. “Let me see your hand.”

“My…? Oh.” Kaveh lifts his arm, allowing Alhaitham to take his hand and inspect the wrapping. “I’ve been careful not to get the bandage wet. And I left the kotlet batter in the icebox.”

“Good.” Alhaitham lowers his hand, still holding Kaveh’s wrist. “Did you go to the Bimarstan?”

“I…” Kaveh stares up at him with wide eyes and faintly flushed cheeks, then bites his lip and looks away. “No. I haven’t gone out today.”

“I’ll take you there tomorrow morning.”

“Wh—it’s fine, really—”

“A doctor can be the judge of that.”

Kaveh sighs. “Fine, if you insist. But it’s just a burn. It’s nothing serious.”

“Burns can be something serious,” Alhaitham says, smoothing his thumb over the jut of Kaveh’s wrist. “And you need your hands for your work, Kaveh.”

“I…I suppose that’s practical.”

Hair loose and wavy, cheeks dark, words agreeable—he seems so easy to touch right now. Releasing Kaveh’s hand, Alhaitham gives in and runs a palm under the collar of his shirt. “By the way,” Alhaitham says, “it’s currently later.”

“Hm?” Kaveh’s expression remains relaxed and innocent, as if it’s perfectly normal for Alhaitham to start feeling up his chest. “Later than what?”

He lets out a small ah when Alhaitham brushes his fingers over a nipple, and Alhaitham smirks. “You’ve already forgotten my proposition from this morning?” Alhaitham asks. “I had a light lunch. I’m still waiting for my fill.”

“Wh…” Kaveh’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, no, no—come on, you can’t be—”

“I’m serious.”

“Seriously addicted,” Kaveh mutters.

“Addicted?” Alhaitham echoes. “Interesting. What unique properties does your sem*n have, for it to induce such a potent chemical response? Should we conduct an experiment to test that, too?”

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “Are you done?”

Alhaitham slides his other hand down to Kaveh’s waistband and slips a finger under it, tracing the sensitive skin of his hip. “If you want to shut me up…”

“Okay, okay, enough of that.” Kaveh swats at Alhaitham’s hand. “I think you’ve sufficiently demonstrated your obsession with my dick.”

Alhaitham’s fingers travel a bit lower, brushing the curls of hair at Kaveh’s groin. “I could prove it more definitively,” he says. “Or do you dislike the idea of me being quiet? Would you prefer for me to be loud?”

“What—no, I’m serious.” Kaveh abruptly sits up, which forces Alhaitham to withdraw his hands. “That’s a no, Alhaitham. An actual no.”

Alhaitham is on his feet in an instant, skin prickling as if the air in the room is corrosive. “Sorry. I’ll be in my room.”

“No!” Kaveh says, as if his first no hadn’t already unbalanced Alhaitham enough. “No no no, don’t—don’t do that, Alhaitham, don’t—”

“I’m not doing anything. I stopped. I’m going to my room now.”

“Don’t leave, I meant.”

Something suddenly wraps around Alhaitham’s wrist, and Alhaitham yanks his arm away, flinching. He belatedly registers that it was Kaveh’s hand trying to grab onto him. “When I said that I liked verbal humiliation, this wasn’t what I meant,” Alhaitham says, stepping around the coffee table. “I see my mistake now. We can conclude this conversation.”

“I—what, are you trying to make me feel bad for saying no?!”

“What?” Alhaitham glances back at Kaveh, who sits helplessly on the couch with the collar of his shirt askew. “No. Am I not allowed to feel chagrinned when I’ve failed to read the room? Oh, but since I’m constantly evolving away from humanity, I suppose I shouldn’t be capable of embarrassment. Well, maybe my engineers will remember to remove that from my coding, one of these days.”

Kaveh stares intensely at a stack of books on the coffee table, hands clenched on his lap. “You’re not making sense,” he says under his breath, so quietly that Alhaitham nearly doesn’t catch the words.

And the remark probably wasn’t intended for Alhaitham, but he responds anyway. “I’m not? That’s surprising. I assumed that since you’re so good with machines, you’d understand me perfectly.”

It’s a bad joke, partly because of the unpleasant truth at its core: that at one point, Kaveh did understand Alhaitham quite well. Then came their fight, where Kaveh declared that he wished he’d never become Alhaitham’s friend—and Kaveh must have taken it upon himself to fulfill that wish afterward, because now he acts like Alhaitham’s mind is a mystery to him, belonging to a complete stranger instead of a man he once considered his closest friend.

(And here’s another bad joke: the fact that Kaveh still knows Alhaitham better than anyone, even though Kaveh barely seems to know him at all.)

“I—never mind,” Kaveh says. “You…I mean, everyone reads the room wrong, sometimes—”

“It seems to happen to me more often.”

Kaveh winces. “I haven’t seen it happen recently,” he says, weakly.

“Because I’ve spent years learning how people think,” Alhaitham says. “And—” He cuts himself off before he can finish the thought: that although he purposely antagonizes Kaveh sometimes, there are times when he genuinely misunderstands, only for Kaveh to assume that Alhaitham is purposely being an ass. In fact, it had happened just the day before, when Kaveh snapped at Alhaitham during his lunch hour. “And because my personality provides an easy explanation for any misunderstandings on my part.”

“Well, maybe,” Kaveh says, “but to be fair, I didn’t stop you right away. The logical conclusion was that I wanted you to keep going.” He wrings his hands and leans forward, his eyes darting up to meet Alhaitham’s. “And—it’s not that I’m opposed, or wouldn’t enjoy that…”

“You don’t need to console me. I can handle being told no.”

“No, Alhaitham, it’s—I would say yes. It’s just…this is…it’s supposed to be reciprocal.”

The corners of Kaveh’s eyes tighten with distress, as if he’s presenting an obvious problem to Alhaitham—but Alhaitham doesn’t understand the issue. Every complaint he’s ever heard about sexual reciprocity involved someone who expected to receive copious amounts of oral sex and then never offered to return the favor, and that obviously doesn’t apply to Alhaitham, who has given Kaveh far more oral sex than he’s received.

“What do you mean?” Alhaitham asks.

“The experimentation,” Kaveh says. “So, if you’re just…sucking me off all the time, what are you getting out of that? I’m the only one receiving pleasure.”

What are you getting out of that? Alhaitham doesn’t particularly feel like listing all the specific reasons he likes having Kaveh’s dick in his mouth, so he answers with a question of his own: “Do you think I don’t enjoy the act of sucking you off?”

And Alhaitham can practically see Kaveh’s mind taking those words in, turning them over, rattling them around in his skull until they cease to make sense. “But…well, I know you don’t dislike it, but…when you do that, I’m not…”

“You can’t think of a single thing you enjoy about giving oral sex?” Alhaitham says, raising an eyebrow. “The act is so dreadful for you that you can’t imagine why I’d like doing it?”

Kaveh squints at him. “I like giving oral sex.”

“But if you’re sucking me off, what are you getting out of that?” Alhaitham parrots.

“I—you—”

“I like the feeling of my mouth being full,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh’s eyes go wide. “I like your taste and smell, and seeing you come. In general, I enjoy the idea of pleasuring you, and I also enjoy your physical reactions—”

“Wait,” Kaveh says. “You enjoy…pleasuring me? What do you mean?”

Alhaitham thinks he might feel another headache coming on. “Isn’t it normal for people to enjoy giving as much as receiving?”

“Well, yes, but you wouldn’t…”

“I wouldn’t what? Enjoy that? I told you that I do.” Seeing that Kaveh still looks inexplicably confused, Alhaitham sighs. “We haven’t interrogated the fact that I enjoy being submissive during sex, have we? This isn’t any different. I just happen to enjoy giving sexually—and if we’re both enjoying it, then the act is perfectly reciprocal.”

“Not perfectly,” Kaveh says. “I mean, you’re always—to me, and I never—to you, that is—”

Alhaitham watches Kaveh awkwardly gesture between the two of them—specifically their faces and crotches—and after a few moments, he manages to decode Kaveh’s babbling. “Oh. You mean that only one of us is performing oral sex whenever the other receives.” He arches an eyebrow. “You’re aware that there’s a position that would allow you to reciprocate, aren’t you?”

A flush slowly creeps across Kaveh’s face. “You—you mean—” His eyes flick away, and he presses a hand to his forehead, a quiet whimpering sound slipping past his lips. “Th-that…that’s so..” He hides his face behind both hands, betrayed by a reddened ear peeking from his hair. “Mm.”

“Would you be amenable to that?”

After a slight pause, Kaveh lowers his hands and nods. “Um, I’d like to try that sometime, yes. I’m too worn out today, though. Maybe…well, actually, I’d been thinking…”

Alhaitham folds his arms and waits.

Then worries that his crossed arms might make him look angry, and awkwardly drops them at his side.

Then absurdly feels like he’s waiting for a member of the Matra to search his person, and stiffly clasps his hands in front of himself instead.

Kaveh takes a deep breath, then continues, “I’d like to try receiving during sex with you, if you’re comfortable being the penetrating partner.” The words send a jolt straight to Alhaitham’s co*ck, and he clears his throat, trying to keep his expression neutral. “And…I’d like to try having you in the dominant role, too.”

“Are you sure?” Alhaitham asks, as much as he hates to question it. “I’m open to both those things, but I don’t mind receiving or submitting, if that’s what you prefer.”

Kaveh laughs, though his smile seems a bit strained. “Well, how can I know what I prefer, if we don’t experiment? Or, well, I already know that I enjoy receiving, but…”

Hmph. That’s right—other people have already had sex with Kaveh that way. “You’ve never been dominated by a sexual partner, then?”

“No,” Kaveh says. “And I’d never dominated anyone, either, until we started experimenting. My previous encounters weren’t that…mentally involved.”

Mentally involved—what a strange descriptor. Alhaitham can’t tell whether Kaveh is saying that he wasn’t as mentally invested during his previous encounters, or if he means that having sex with Alhaitham is mentally taxing. “Alright. We can try in a few days, once your hand heals. And we’ll need to discuss your expectations for being dominated, so that I know how to approach things.” Kaveh nods, and Alhaitham adds, “I’m going to nap for an hour. Come get me when you want to fry the kotlet—don’t try to do it on your own.”

Despite his words, though, Alhaitham doesn’t actually sleep during that hour; Kaveh’s request has stirred up far too many fantasies for that.

It’s barely even ten in the morning as Kaveh moans around Alhaitham’s co*ck, arms braced against the couch seat, lean thighs bracketing Alhaitham’s face. A wet towel sits crumpled on the carpet below them, abandoned a few minutes ago when Kaveh emerged red-faced from his shower, climbed on top of Alhaitham, and announced, I’ll try that reciprocal position now.

(After Alhaitham escorted Kaveh to the Bimarstan earlier, he’d decided to just stay home and head to the Akademiya after lunchtime—except he hadn’t expected Kaveh to essentially pounce on him after showering, although he’s certainly not complaining.)

For his part, Alhaitham keeps his biceps hooked underneath Kaveh’s thighs, his hands reaching up to dig nails into the soft skin of Kaveh’s ass. He holds Kaveh there, lips rounded wide to accommodate his length, refusing to let Kaveh squirm away from his mouth for even a second.

The angle is less than ideal; they’ve only been at this for a few minutes, and Alhaitham has already nearly choked twice. To Kaveh’s credit, he’s been trying to keep his hips lifted so that he doesn’t jab the back of Alhaitham’s throat, but he keeps becoming absorbed in his task, hips dipping lower as he lavishes Alhaitham’s co*ck with wet kisses and flicks of his tongue.

And whenever his hips go down, Alhaitham’s head has nowhere to go—which means that he can only relax his throat and try his best to prop up Kaveh’s legs with his shoulders, unable to do much else besides slightly bobbing his head and providing a hole for Kaveh’s co*ck to slip into.

Of course, Alhaitham only has himself to blame, since Kaveh had warned him at the start that it would be easier if they laid on their sides. But Alhaitham had been too taken by the idea of having a naked Kaveh on top of his own clothed body, ass shoved in his face for the taking…except, when they first got into this position and Alhaitham tried to spread Kaveh’s ass to get a look, Kaveh had yelped and hastily slid farther back, telling Alhaitham to focus on his co*ck instead.

So now, not only is Alhaitham being deprived of the opportunity to properly appreciate Kaveh’s ass, but he’s also desperately trying not to cough or wheeze while he sucks Kaveh off.

“Mm, f*ck,” Kaveh gasps, breath warm against Alhaitham’s co*ck. “F-feels good. Keep—hah, keep doing that—”

Alhaitham keeps doing that, for about five more seconds—and then those hips slip lower again, and he gags loudly, spluttering for air.

Kaveh’s hips jerk back immediately, momentarily sparing Alhaitham’s throat. “Sorry,” he says, peering over his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Alhaitham’s eyes water, and he makes a mental note to research whether it’s possible for a person to die from giving oral sex. His book never touched on that particular issue. “Fine,” he says hoarsely.

“If you’d rather be on your side—”

“No,” Alhaitham says. “Just give me a second.”

He moves one of his arms inside Kaveh’s legs, shifting their position, and Kaveh lets out a quiet mmph as he’s jostled. (And Alhaitham finds that he likes that brief moment of imbalance—likes seeing Kaveh’s body be under his control.) Then he grips Kaveh’s co*ck and presses it forward, giving his mouth access to the base of Kaveh’s shaft and…well, his testicular jewels.

“Is this alright?” Alhaitham asks, running his hand along Kaveh’s co*ck. He carefully touches his tongue to the sensitive skin beneath it, and hears Kaveh suck in a sharp breath.

“B-be very gentle with those,” Kaveh says, “but yes. More than alright.”

Alhaitham drags his tongue upward and sucks at one as lightly as possible, just barely kissing it. Keeping one hand pinned to Kaveh’s ass, he uses the other to stroke his co*ck, occasionally mouthing at the shaft as he does.

“Oh.” Kaveh shivers, seemingly forgetting his mission to reciprocate. “I—that’s—no one’s ever—” His voice wavers and whines, and he lowers his head, long hair brushing the inside of Alhaitham’s thighs. “Wait—I’m—your clothes, I’ll get them dirty—”

“Hm.” Alhaitham swirls his tongue and squeezes Kaveh’s ass, and Kaveh yelps. “I suppose you will.”

“Alhaitham—!”

“What?” Alhaitham asks, with a few languid kisses. “Why should my mouth have to handle your mess?” Kaveh lets out a choked whimper, and Alhaitham smirks. “Go on, Kaveh. Come on my clothes. You don’t have another option.”

Alhaitham teases him with his tongue and runs his thumb beneath the head of Kaveh’s co*ck, and Kaveh’s thigh tenses in his grasp. With a quiet moan, Kaveh jerks his hips and comes, spilling onto Alhaitham’s hand and shirt.

Finally. Kaveh could stand to lose some control every once in a while.

“Feeling pent-up, senior?” Alhaitham says, trailing slick fingers along Kaveh’s length. “You should have let me suck you off yesterday. Now I’ll have to change clothes before going back to work.”

Kaveh doesn’t respond right away, too busy panting for breath. Eventually, though, he sighs and starts crawling forward. “Since you’re done with your half, I’ll just turn around and move—”

“No.” Alhaitham wraps his arms around Kaveh’s legs and hauls him back so that his ass sits near Alhaitham’s face again. “I think I’ll have you stay here. I’m enjoying the view.”

“Wh—” Kaveh cranes his neck to stare at Alhaitham, his cheeks almost as red as his eyes. “But, it’s embarrassing to…I mean…”

“If you won’t let me use my mouth on your ass, the least you can do is let me use my eyes. And also…” Alhaitham sits up so that he can sink his teeth into the meat of Kaveh’s ass, drawing a gasp from his lungs. “I want to see if you can do as you’re told.”

Kaveh exhales shakily. “Historically, I haven’t been very good at that.”

“I’m aware.” Alhaitham taps his palm against Kaveh’s ass, prompting him. “Keep sucking, Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s mouth returns to his co*ck, wet and warm as he takes Alhaitham to the base, slick lips gliding along his length. And Alhaitham is starting to regret refusing Kaveh’s offer to reciprocate the other day, because he’d forgotten how good this feels, with just a few swirls of Kaveh’s tongue bringing him so close to the edge.

Alhaitham stubbornly holds himself back. He doesn’t want this to end that soon, so he distracts himself by stroking Kaveh’s thighs and massaging his ass, feeling the softness fill his palms.

“I’ve been wondering,” Alhaitham says casually, and a shiver runs through Kaveh. “When you said that spanking is a yes…” He smooths his palms down Kaveh’s ass, cupping the apex of his thighs. “Which way were you imagining that?”

“What—don’t do that now—”

“I won’t. I’m just asking in general.”

There’s a pause, and then Kaveh mumbles, “Both ways.”

“I see.” Alhaitham pointedly nudges his hips upward, and Kaveh takes him back in his mouth. “I’d ask you for specifics, but your mouth is occupied. Hm…” He traces his thumb beneath the curve of Kaveh’s ass, making Kaveh twitch. “So, you’ve thought about lying on my lap with your pants around your ankles, squirming as I spank you?” Kaveh lets out a surprisingly loud moan at that, which gives Alhaitham more confidence about the direction of his teasing—so he continues, “And I assume I’d spank you as a punishment, since you rarely do as you’re told.”

He splays his hands over Kaveh’s ass, imagining how the skin would look with each slap of his palm, and how Kaveh would whine in response. It’s an appealing thought.

“But if you spank me, senior,” Alhaitham adds, “it wouldn’t be a punishment. I’ve proved that I’m obedient, haven’t I? I drop to my knees the second you tell me to. I know how to be good for you.” Kaveh responds with a muffled cry, one that makes it seem like he’s the one on the brink of org*sm instead of Alhaitham. “I’d still like my senior to spank me, though. Maybe he could remind me of my place—I’m not always the most respectful junior, I’ve been told.”

Kaveh groans and takes Alhaitham’s co*ck all the way into his throat, as if he’s desperate to make Alhaitham stop talking.

“When I spank you,” Alhaitham says, his voice a bit strained, “I won’t stop until you’re whining and grinding against my lap, promising to be good for me.” He trails the tip of a finger down the small of Kaveh’s back, grazing his ass. “I’ll get you to be good for me, Kaveh. You…”

f*ck. Kaveh’s throat and lips are doing something obscene, now, and Alhaitham realizes that he’s not going to last much longer.

“Swallow,” Alhaitham manages to say. “I—I want you to swallow, can you—ngh—”

He comes in Kaveh’s mouth, gasping at the unfamiliar feeling. This is entirely new for him: Kaveh’s lips creating a seal, tight and wet around his co*ck as it twitches and empties every drop down his throat. Alhaitham mostly maintains his composure up until Kaveh slides his lips back and sucks lightly on the tip of his co*ck, punching a shaky moan from deep in Alhaitham’s chest.

Alhaitham flops back with a heavy exhale, staring blankly at the ceiling overhead. Humming, Kaveh swings his legs onto the floor and kneels beside the couch, folding his arms on the seat to rest his chin on them.

Alhaitham’s fingers blindly find a strand of Kaveh’s hair, toying with it absentmindedly. The two of them sit in a lazy silence for a few moments, until Kaveh sighs and gets to his feet.

“I should get dressed.” Kaveh plucks the discarded towel from the floor and loosely wraps it around his waist, although the modesty seems rather unnecessary at this point. “You’re still staying home until after lunch?” he asks, and Alhaitham nods. “Alright. I’ll be right back. Uh, and you should…” He gestures at the mess on Alhaitham’s shirt. “Change clothes, too.”

“Really?” Alhaitham says. “I think the arrangement of sem*n looks rather artistic. Should I discard your aesthetic efforts so uncaringly?”

Kaveh’s eyebrows shoot so high that they might as well hit the ceiling. “You—don’t insult my aesthetic talents by counting that”—he jabs a finger toward Alhaitham’s chest—“as one of my creations!”

“Oh, so you don’t think I’d look pretty covered in your cum? I didn’t look nice when it was dripping down my thighs the other night? I wouldn’t look good with it covering my chest?” When Kaveh turns red-faced and squeezes his eyes shut, Alhaitham adds, “What about my face, senior?”

“Your face—I’m done looking at it! Go get changed!”

Kaveh scurries out of the room, leaving Alhaitham to snort in amusem*nt and slowly get to his feet.

Several minutes later, they reconvene on one of the other couches, where Kaveh sprawls across the entire seat with his feet on Alhaitham’s lap. Although he’s making physical contact, he isn’t nearly close enough for Alhaitham’s liking; Alhaitham can’t touch his hair like he’s tempted to, nor feel the weight of Kaveh’s body leaning against his.

“Was that position satisfactory?” Alhaitham asks, resisting the urge to complain about their current one.

“Very,” Kaveh says. “And…”

He’s hesitating, so Alhaitham prompts, “And?”

“Well, I liked how—when you told me to get on top, and made me stay there…” Kaveh turns his head to the side, hiding half his flushed face. “That is, I mentioned yesterday that I’d like to try…”

“You enjoy having me act like that?”

“I—well, I don’t know if it’s enjoyment.”

“So there’s something I need to do differently.”

“No! It was good, I just…I keep envisioning you…”

Alhaitham waits, but Kaveh sighs without finishing that thought, leaving Alhaitham to figure it out himself.

Then—how could something be good, but still leave Kaveh uncertain as to whether he enjoyed it?

I keep envisioning you… “You’re used to seeing me be submissive?” Alhaitham guesses. “So you have a hard time viewing me as dominant.”

“Oh, no,” Kaveh says, propping himself up on his arms. “I can definitely see it. That’s the—”

He cuts himself off, but Alhaitham guesses the rest easily enough: That’s the problem. “I told you before,” Alhaitham says. “If you don’t want to be submissive during sex—”

“I do! I definitely do. But…”

When Kaveh’s silence grows too long to be comfortable, Alhaitham makes another guess. “But not with me?” he asks, carefully studying Kaveh’s expression—but Kaveh’s brow only furrows in confusion, as if he hadn’t considered Alhaitham’s suggestion. “If that’s the case, then obviously you can experiment with someone else. I’m—”

“What?” Kaveh exclaims. “Why—why are you suddenly suggesting ending our experiment?”

“What do you mean? Our experiment doesn’t preclude you from experimenting with others, if I’m unable to perform as your partner. I thought that would be obvious, since it’s not as if we signed a contract promising to abstain from sex with other people.”

Kaveh looks almost crestfallen at that suggestion, which makes no sense to Alhaitham. Isn’t that a practical solution, if Kaveh wants to experiment with submission but can’t bring himself to do so with Alhaitham? “Then…you plan to experiment with other people?” Kaveh asks. “I mean, that’s fine—I wouldn’t want to limit you—”

“No. As we discussed before, this sort of thing requires me to trust the other person, and I can’t think of anyone who fulfills that requirement as effectively as you.”

“Well, neither can I,” Kaveh says, “so, no, I’m not going to go experiment with someone else.”

He removes his feet from Alhaitham’s lap and draws them closer to himself, curling up against the back of the couch. It feels like the end of the conversation—except Alhaitham doesn’t intend to let this go, not since he and Kaveh agreed on honest communication when it comes to sex.

“I could propose a more effective solution if you’d finish your thought,” Alhaitham says. “You keep envisioning me…?”

But Kaveh just shakes his head, avoiding Alhaitham’s eyes.

A dead end, then.

“What if I don’t like it?” Kaveh suddenly asks, his voice quiet.

“If you don’t like it?” Alhaitham repeats. “Then you do what you do whenever you don’t like a design you’ve created—you come back to it another time, or you try something different.”

Kaveh lets out a scornful tch. “And then I feel foolish for wasting my client’s time and my own. I should realize that I don’t like a design before I’ve created an entire blueprint for it.”

“I wouldn’t see it as a waste of time.”

“Oh, right. I’ll just make myself see things the way you do. That fixes everything.”

“Is that what I said?”

Kaveh pulls his legs closer and ducks his head. “I don’t know,” he mutters.

“We already established that there’s no reason to feel bad if one of us doesn’t like something we try. Or am I remembering that incorrectly?”

Kaveh’s stubborn silence is answer enough.

“I see,” Alhaitham says. “You’re being hypocritical.”

Narrowed eyes flick up to meet his, flickering with the beginnings of a fire. “What?”

“When you said that there’s no need to be ashamed if one of us enjoys something that the other dislikes, you were only referring to me. You meant that I shouldn’t feel bad, whereas you’re free to wallow in those negative feelings.”

“I…”

“There can’t be a double standard. So, which is it? Is it acceptable for us to have different preferences regarding sex? Or is it that we’ve committed a moral wrong if our preferences end up differing?”

“Of course it’s not wrong. But I’ll feel bad if—”

“Define bad.”

“What?”

“You’re being too vague. I can’t identify the root of the problem if you only say that you’ll feel bad. What do you mean by that?”

Kaveh clenches his jaw, and Alhaitham senses an impending mood swing; when things get like this, there’s always a point when Kaveh’s openness changes into a slammed door, locking Alhaitham out before the conversation can actually go somewhere. “This isn’t some sort of psychological study. You don’t need to interrogate how I’m feeling.”

“I do, actually, when your feelings are impeding our experimentation.”

“Yes, I know, it’s my fault.” Kaveh suddenly plants his feet on the ground and sits forward on the couch. “Don’t worry. I’ll go wallow for a few hours or days, and eventually my inconvenient feelings will go away, and then we can proceed with helping you discover your sexuality.”

Alhaitham braces himself for Kaveh to leap to his feet and storm off—but instead, Kaveh presses the heels of his hands to his forehead, his shoulders slumping.

Tentatively, Alhaitham moves to sit next to Kaveh and lightly rests a hand on his thigh. Kaveh jolts slightly at the touch, though he doesn’t pull away. “You want to try submitting during sex,” Alhaitham says, “but something is getting in the way. I can help solve that problem, but only if I know the variables and potential causes.”

He wonders if he’s pushed too far, despite his caution; for a moment, he entirely expects Kaveh to storm out of the room after all. Instead, though, Kaveh hugs his arms to himself and says, “I’ll feel guilty. If you try something and I don’t like it, I’ll…I’ll feel bad.”

“Bad as in guilty,” Alhaitham clarifies, and Kaveh nods. “I’ll admit, I don’t understand that perspective. It’s difficult for me to feel guilty over an experiment proceeding the way that most experiments do. Trial and error is perfectly normal for something like this.”

“You’re not helping,” Kaveh mutters. “You’re making it sound like I’m irrational and unreasonable.”

“We’re testing out kinks to figure out whether we like them or not. The latter is an expected outcome. Why should a person feel guilty for an expected outcome?”

“Still interrogating me,” Kaveh grumbles.

Still not listening to me, Alhaitham thinks. “If you’re feeling guilty, then you must think you’ve done something wrong. The act of disliking something is neutral, though—so what would you be doing wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Kaveh says. “I’d be wasting your efforts, I suppose, or—not appreciating them properly, if I disliked something you did. And I’d ruin the mood. What if you felt discouraged in the future, or…”

“I’m not going to take your preferences personally,” Alhaitham says. “So how exactly does it ruin the mood, if I’m unbothered? And how would my efforts be wasted, if the experience still yields findings?”

“Do you have to argue with my feelings like this?”

“Apparently, since you refuse to question them on your own.”

As much as Alhaitham would like to point out the source of Kaveh’s troubles, though, things have historically gone poorly when Alhaitham leads by telling Kaveh here’s why you have so many problems in life. Even though he understands the issue at hand, he’s not sure how to give Kaveh advice without upsetting him.

Alhaitham considers, then says, “I’d describe your problem as too much of a good thing.”

Kaveh squints at him. “What?”

“The first time I performed oral sex on you, you noted that we normally don’t say good things about each other,” Alhaitham says. “I usually believe that it’s pointless for me to name a person’s good qualities if they’re already aware of them, but in this case, you might benefit from a reminder. Your observational skills—when you’re not blinded by bias or a lack of confidence—are one of your greatest talents. You can analyze a design and quickly spot potential flaws, and your overall attention to detail is unmatched.”

“But?” Kaveh says. “There must be a but. You wouldn’t just compliment me without somehow twisting it into an insult.”

“Your talent is a valuable tool for your work,” Alhaitham continues, “until you aim it at yourself, and then it becomes a weapon. You scrutinize things that are perfectly fine until you manage to discern some obscure potential problem, and then you wear yourself down by fixating on that possibility. Instead of looking for things to fix, you search for burdens to bear.”

Kaveh is silent for a moment, and then he scowls at the carpet. “You avoided saying but on purpose, didn’t you.”

The corner of Alhaitham’s mouth curves upward. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “But, because you’re smart, you must already know all of this, on some level. I shouldn’t have to point it out for you.”

“Then why say all of that? My problems aren’t yours to solve.”

“I know.” Alhaitham has learned that lesson the hard way. “But they’ve become an obstacle to our experiment, so they need to be addressed.”

“Well, that’s just how I am, so maybe it can’t be addressed,” Kaveh says, slumping forward. “So, then, what? The experiment fails because of my personality?”

“It’s not your personality. It’s your habit of holding yourself responsible for another person’s potential disappointment.”

“Which comes from my personality.”

Alhaitham sighs. “And I disagree with your use of the term fail. Do you mean to imply that if part of our experiment concludes prematurely, it’s the result of a wrongdoing, and that one of us bears the fault? Do I need to worry that you’ll do things you don’t actually want to, in order to avoid the guilt of making our experiment ‘fail’?”

Kaveh opens his mouth, then presses his lips tight and shuts his eyes.

“Another double standard, then,” Alhaitham says. “I’m supposed to inform you of my boundaries, but you can just cast yours aside?”

“No,” Kaveh murmurs. “No, I—I just…”

“You just don’t mind putting me in a situation where I unknowingly do something that makes you uncomfortable?”

Kaveh says nothing to that.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “You can’t make every part of this experiment perfect for either of us. We’re going to try things that we end up disliking, and one of us will inevitably do something that the other realizes they don’t enjoy. It’s not your responsibility to prevent those outcomes, nor is it even possible, given the nature of the experiment. If we’re going to move forward with this, you need to accept that fact.”

Still, Kaveh sits in silence, avoiding Alhaitham’s eyes.

“Can I trust you to do that, Kaveh?” Alhaitham asks. “Or are you going to make me constantly second-guess your consent, because I can’t trust that you’re actually giving it honestly?”

“No, I…” Kaveh sniffs and swipes a thumb beneath one of his eyes, turning his face away from Alhaitham. “I don’t want you to worry about that. I—I’ll consent clearly, I promise.”

It’s not an entirely satisfactory answer, since Alhaitham would prefer for Kaveh to prioritize his own needs and assert them, rather than agreeing for Alhaitham’s sake—but it will have to do. “And what if you dislike something I try?” Alhaitham asks, stroking Kaveh’s thigh with his thumb. “Can you risk that possibility, and be honest with me if it occurs?”

“Yes,” Kaveh says, sounding utterly miserable. “I’ll feel terrible. But I’ll do it.” Alhaitham lets out a quiet sigh at the response, and Kaveh seems to wilt even further, shrinking in on himself. “I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience. I mean, I’m the one who offered to help you with this, and now I’m causing trouble for you.”

Alhaitham’s throat tightens. It’s been a while since Kaveh was openly upset like this; normally he retreats and isolates himself before any tears can fall.

“It’s not like I’m feeling bad on purpose,” Kaveh adds. “You—you’re telling me to accept that I can’t prevent a negative outcome. And of course you aren’t bothered by these things, but do you know how helpless that makes me feel? I can’t think like that. I have to believe that I can prevent those outcomes, or else…”

“Or else you can’t blame yourself when things go wrong?”

“No, that’s—let’s not talk about that.”

Alhaitham’s hand curls into a fist on Kaveh’s thigh as he stares at the front door, thinking of all the times Kaveh has trudged across that threshold looking weary and beaten because of the beliefs he clings to. “I’ve had to accept that I can’t prevent you from getting depressed about your life’s troubles.”

“Yes, you always love to remind me that I create trouble for myself, I—oh.” That oh is breathy and small, frailer than the rest of Kaveh’s words. “But that’s not…”

“I consider it a negative outcome. I don’t derive any enjoyment from watching you repeatedly sink into depression.”

Kaveh sighs, and his warm hand settles over Alhaitham’s fist, startling him.

And that seems to be his only response to Alhaitham’s admission, because several long moments later, Kaveh has given no indication that he has anything else to say.

“I’ve said before that I don’t delight in other people’s misery,” Alhaitham says. “Obviously that includes you. But I can’t stop others from feeling that way, so it would be an exercise in insanity to let every instance of misery weigh on my conscience.”

Kaveh’s silence grows longer—and as it does, it feels like an icy pool of water is spreading across the floor, reaching Alhaitham and chilling the soles of his feet. He can’t tell if his words have managed to provide some sort of comfort, or if they’ve only worsened Kaveh’s mood.

Then Kaveh shifts his weight and curls up on his side, easing his head onto Alhaitham’s lap.

Alhaitham’s eyes widen, and he rests his hand on Kaveh’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He supposes he must not have said anything too terrible, if Kaveh feels comfortable enough to sit like this.

They stay like that for a while, and Alhaitham watches the angle of sunlight gradually shift across the floor, marking the passage of mid-morning. As he does, he searches for words that will stop Kaveh from worrying—but everything that comes to mind sounds too much like the sort of advice that has caused them to fight in the past.

Eventually, Alhaitham pats Kaveh’s shoulder, and Kaveh stirs with a quiet hum. “I’m going to stop by the Akademiya,” Alhaitham says. “I have some work in my office that I need to bring home. Do you want me to pick up anything while I’m out?”

“Huh?” Kaveh sits up, blinking blearily. “You’re bringing work home?”

“I don’t feel like working at the Akademiya today. Should I get lunch for us? Lambad’s shouldn’t be too busy, since it’s not noon yet.”

Kaveh squints at Alhaitham disbelievingly, and Alhaitham can guess what he’s thinking: that Alhaitham loathes bringing work into the comfort of his home, and typically avoids doing so at all costs. (Alhaitham is counting on the offer of lunch to sufficiently distract Kaveh from that fact.) “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you—”

“I wouldn’t offer to do something if it went beyond my personal comfort or capabilities. Will you tell me what you want to eat, or should I guess? If I were you, I wouldn’t risk the latter. I might end up bringing home Lambad’s spiciest dishes.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kaveh grumbles.

“Hm? What was that? You’d like me to get you some of Lambad’s shrimp curry?”

“Wha—no! You know that stuff set my mouth on fire when I tried it!”

“Is that so? I don’t recall your lips or tongue spontaneously combusting. Should I ask Lambad if he has any of the tomato soup that you tried a few months ago, too? You like soup.”

Kaveh puffs out his cheeks and jabs a finger against Alhaitham’s chest. “Don’t you dare! And who puts hot peppers in tomato soup, anyway? It’s tomato soup, not pepper soup! I never imagined that one of my comfort foods could incinerate every taste bud on my tongue.”

“I’m surprised you’d say that,” Alhaitham says, leaning forward and crowding Kaveh against the arm of the couch, “considering that you love to challenge Sumeru’s conventional understanding of aesthetics, and fervently believe in the importance of artistic exploration.”

“That’s because Sumeru’s understanding of aesthetics needs to be improved! But tomato soup doesn’t need to be challenged or improved, because it’s perfectly fine as is. Making it spicy is—it’s unnatural!”

“Unnatural…like tampering with ancient machine cores to build an automated suitcase that emotes and understands human commands, thereby going against current restrictions on technological experimentation and straying inadvisably close to one of the Akademiya’s six sins?”

At that, Kaveh’s face turns as red as the aforementioned soup. “You—you—don’t compare my valuable research to culinary crimes! Mehrak has never sent me into a coughing fit or made my eyes water uncontrollably.”

“Oh? In that case, senior, I regret to inform you that your co*ck might qualify as a culinary crime, since it sent me into a coughing fit earlier.”

Kaveh’s eyes go wide, but he quickly recovers and reaches up to grip Alhaitham’s chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “We’ll work on your gag reflex,” he says.

It seems like a ploy to regain control—because Alhaitham is certainly tempted to relax in Kaveh’s hold, handing him the sense of dominance that makes him feel secure—so Alhaitham simply raises his eyebrows and says, “Will we? I’ve gotten the impression that you enjoy making me gag a bit. Oh, which you should probably add to the notes you’re taking for yourself, if you haven’t already.”

“What! No, I—I wouldn’t—I mean—”

“There’s no reason to be ashamed, Senior Kaveh. I can understand the auditory appeal. The sound of an inexperienced young man struggling to take your co*ck—”

“You—!”

“—because you’re just too big for him,” Alhaitham continues with a smirk, “and yet, he’s so enthusiastic that he would rather choke on your dick than be able to breathe—”

“Ugh, that’s enough from you!” Groaning, Kaveh releases Alhaitham’s face and slithers out from beneath him, getting to his feet. “Don’t you have work to retrieve from the Akademiya? And lunch to buy for us?”

“And what lunch should I be buying for you, exactly?”

“Whatever you feel like,” Kaveh says, waving a hand as he briskly makes his way to the study. “But if you get me something that you know I dislike, then I might not feel generous enough to grace you with my gag reflex in the future—so keep that in mind, if you feel tempted to abuse my taste buds.”

There’s probably a crude comeback there, somewhere—maybe it’s only fair when you’ve abused my throat, senior—but Kaveh is gone before Alhaitham can think of something, and he needs to get going if he wants to reach Lambad’s before the lunchtime rush.

He does take a minute to adjust his belt pouch before he walks outside, though, lest anyone notice the evidence that he’s still thinking about Kaveh’s gag reflex as he makes his way to the tavern.

Later that week, as Alhaitham is handing Kaveh his morning cup of coffeed sugar, he realizes: “I’ve never penetrated someone sexually before.”

Perched on the counter, Kaveh squints down at his coffee as if he’s divining an answer in the liquid. “You…yes? And?”

“It just occurred to me that I might have difficulty dominating you tomorrow night, since I don’t know what I’m doing physically.”

“Oh.” Kaveh blinks. “Well, I mean, you just…”

“Just stick it in?” Alhaitham says dryly. Even though he doesn’t have Kaveh’s level of experience, he knows it isn’t that simple.

Normally, Alhaitham avoids situations where he has to profess a lack of knowledge. Not that he finds ignorance to be embarrassing—after all, admitting to a lack of knowledge is the first step in acquiring knowledge—but he’s usually able to privately study or practice things in advance, so that he’s reasonably prepared when the time comes to employ any particular skill.

There isn’t much he can do to practice penetrating someone, though, besides having sex on short notice with people who aren’t Kaveh (which would not only be inconvenient to arrange, but also extremely unenjoyable, since Alhaitham has no sexual interest in people who aren’t Kaveh). He knows that he has the advantage of physical fitness, and after experimentally thrusting against a pillow the night before, he’s concluded that his hips likely have enough stamina…but none of that comes close to bridging his current gap in knowledge, and this isn’t the sort of thing he wants to ask any of his friends about.

“There’s technique involved, yes,” Kaveh concedes, “but…ugh. Let me drink my coffee, first.”

Several minutes later, Kaveh sets his empty cup aside and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he says. “I know you detest being inexperienced at things, but—”

“I don’t detest it.”

“Or you detest admitting it—”

“I can admit when I’m inexperienced,” Alhaitham says, cringing at the defensiveness in his tone. “I’m admitting it right now. I don’t see any reason to be ashamed of that.”

Kaveh sighs, and Alhaitham gets the sense that they’ve already started off on the wrong foot. “Fine. Regardless, I really don’t mind that you don’t have experience. Weren’t you just saying a few days ago that when we have sex, it won’t be one hundred percent perfect? I’m not expecting you to be a sex god.”

“I’m glad the bar is so generously low.”

There’s more bite in Alhaitham’s voice than he intends, and judging by the way Kaveh shuts his eyes and sighs again, it didn’t escape his notice. “I didn’t mean that you’re bad at sex—”

“I’m not offended if you think so.”

“But I don’t!” Kaveh’s sudden volume clashes with the morning quiet, and Alhaitham grimaces at the noise. “For f*ck’s sake, you’re the best lay I’ve ever had, by far—and it’s not like I have a habit of settling for mediocre sex, for the record—although, well, I have certainly settled, on multiple occasions—but I’ve also had some very good sex, so if anything, you’ve now set the bar so high that I’m likely doomed to see every future sexual partner as utterly inadequate and…and…”

Kaveh snaps his mouth shut with an audible clack, and his eyes flick to the empty cup of coffee almost accusatorily, as if the caffeine is somehow to blame for his rambling just now.

Alhaitham, for his part, tries not to look as flattered or confused as he currently feels. He has tried to be attentive and cooperative during sex, of course—but he was never under any illusion that those qualities would make him a stellar sexual partner, given his complete lack of experience. At best, he’d been aiming to avoid Kaveh’s list of Worst People He’s Ever Bedded, which Kaveh has occasionally recited to Alhaitham after consuming a few too many drinks.

(Alhaitham had been reasonably confident that he could outclass the man who finished in less than two minutes and told Kaveh to get himself off, along with the one who asked if he could call Kaveh someone else’s name, and hopefully the one who tried to convince Kaveh not to use lubricant because “the last guy didn’t need any” and “it ruins the mood”…but beyond that, Alhaitham hasn’t had any reason to expect that he’d impress Kaveh with his sexual prowess.)

Settling for an air of smug superiority, Alhaitham folds his arms and leans back against the counter. “Oh? By all means, don’t stop there. Does this mean you consider me to be a sex god after all, Kaveh?”

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “No, because a god should have expertise in whatever area they specialize in. Declaring you a sex god would be like appointing a Vahumana scholar as the Amurta Sage.”

A fair comparison—which does make Alhaitham wonder why Kaveh ranks sex with him as objectively superior, though he decides not to press.

“My point is,” Kaveh continues, “I know that you’re unfamiliar with that particular sexual act, but I have plenty of experience being on the receiving end, so I’m confident that I can guide you through any difficulties we encounter.”

“Although that’s reassuring on its own,” Alhaitham says, “don’t you think my inexperience might compromise my ability to dominate you?”

“Your…? Oh. I mean…”

“Unless, of course, you think that being penetrated by an incompetent partner would amplify your feelings of submission—but given that you loathe subjecting yourself to inept superiors, I expect it will just make you frustrated. And while I can certainly see the appeal in that for myself, I’m not sure that’s what you had in mind for tomorrow.” Kaveh’s mouth twists inscrutably, and Alhaitham adds, “Which brings me to the question: How do you want me to dominate you, Kaveh? We can’t entirely predict how you’ll feel about things, but we should still discuss your comfort and boundaries.”

“Oh.” Kaveh sounds as if he’s realized something unpleasant. “I…I don’t know. You can just do whatever you want, really, I don’t—”

“Alright. Forget that question—tell me what exactly you’ve been envisioning, when you think about me dominating you. You must have fantasized once or twice?”

Kaveh’s eyes widen enormously. “Oh, gods…I, um…” He almost looks perturbed, as if his fantasies are too extreme to even think about, let alone speak aloud—which certainly intrigues Alhaitham, although he’s not sure why Kaveh would feel unsettled. The kink list has already established that he and Kaveh have remarkably compatible interests.

(And Kaveh had marked no on a few things that Alhaitham could have been persuaded to try, if Kaveh really wanted to—so even if Kaveh was conservative with his original list, he shouldn’t feel nervous about making modifications.)

“Is it something that wasn’t on your list?” Alhaitham asks. “Because—”

“No, no, my list is the same, I just…don’t know what I want, exactly.”

“Do you know what you don’t want?”

Kaveh shrugs and shakes his head.

Hm. Alhaitham would have thought that someone like Kaveh—who normally has such strong opinions and convictions—would have no difficulty articulating his preferences. “Let’s use your style of domination as a starting point, then. Is any of that something you’d like me to try? Or, looking at my role as the submissive partner—is there anything I’ve done that you wouldn’t want to do?”

“You’re so…” Kaveh trails off with an entranced look in his eyes, the same expression he wears after encountering a beautiful feat of architecture. Then a sigh gusts from his lips. “I can’t just drop to my knees and do everything you tell me to. I know you have no difficulty doing that, but—”

“That’s fine,” Alhaitham says. “Honestly, I didn’t expect that you would.”

“You expected me to be difficult?” Kaveh asks flatly.

“As an instructor, you always love to give challenging material to your students, so I didn’t think you’d make things easy for your junior. But you know me, senior.” Alhaitham pointedly drags his eyes down Kaveh’s body, then lets them amble back up to his face. “I enjoy tackling difficult material.”

Kaveh’s throat jumps, and suddenly Alhaitham is tempted to start off the day with a taste of him instead of coffee. “Right. Naturally.”

“So, you might act hesitant or reluctant,” Alhaitham summarizes. “Just to remind both of us, your list indicated that you aren’t interested in consensual non-consent, which means that you won’t want me to roleplay that I’m forcing you. Should I conclude that you’ll eventually relent on your own at some point during the scene, then?”

“I—well, obviously, yes,” Kaveh mutters, hunching his shoulders. “Is that a problem, or…?”

“Fine by me.” Granted, the parameters are a bit too ambiguous for Alhaitham’s liking, but he can be flexible. “And of the most recent times we’ve had sex, in the study and on the couch—is there anything from those encounters that I should replicate?”

“Ugh. You make it sound so scientific.”

“Isn’t this an experiment?”

“Yes, but—alright, fine, point taken. Mm…” Kaveh glances away, tugging at the loose collar of his shirt. “I liked when you held me down in the study. Really, everything you did there was fine. More than fine, it was…” He wets his lips, still refusing to meet Alhaitham’s eyes, and hums as if he’s savoring a rich delicacy.

“Noted,” Alhaitham says.

He liked when he held Kaveh down in the study, too.

“And, well,” Kaveh says, “you generally know how I’ll respond to things, so…I’m sure you can figure out how to tease me, and such.”

A bit sourly, Alhaitham thinks that no, he really doesn’t know, considering how often he says something seemingly inoffensive only for Kaveh to be mortally offended by it. He now understands why Kaveh had been so exasperated by his flippant whatever you want, surprise me back when the two of them first discussed verbal degradation.

“Alright,” Alhaitham says. “That should work, provided that you remember I’m trying to make you feel good, and promise to tell me if I end up doing the opposite.”

Kaveh nods and fiddles with his hands, twisting the skin of his finger where he would normally wear a ring.

Hm.

Alhaitham points to the cup sitting on the counter next to Kaveh. “That cup is empty, isn’t it?”

Kaveh’s eyes drift back to him. “It…yes?”

“Put it over here,” Alhaitham says, gesturing to the empty counter space next to himself.

Frowning, Kaveh hops down from the counter and carries the empty cup over to Alhaitham, then sets it down uncertainly. “Why—I can just put it in the sink—”

Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s chin and angles his face toward him. Kaveh falls silent, and his lips part slightly, his forehead scrunched with confusion—but he doesn’t argue or question the sudden move. He simply stands still and waits, his sharp gaze studying Alhaitham.

“Hm.” Alhaitham reaches down with his free hand and dips a finger into his own abandoned cup of coffee, then lifts that finger and presses it against Kaveh’s lower lip. “Open?”

Hesitantly, Kaveh opens his mouth wider and lets Alhaitham slide the finger past his lips. His tongue warms Alhaitham’s skin as he sucks and licks, not unlike that day in the kitchen a few weeks ago—except now Alhaitham knows what it’s like to feel that mouth in other places, and what sounds it can make, and how softly it can kiss despite the harsh words it speaks—

Kaveh hums quietly, eyes falling shut. With the hand gripping his chin, Alhaitham gently tugs his face closer and leans in, his lips brushing Kaveh’s ear. “I still think about the day you came from doing this,” he murmurs.

Kaveh lets out a surprised moan and goes lax in Alhaitham’s hold. And that sound makes Alhaitham want to bend him over the counter and f*ck him now, while he’s hazy and cooperative—makes him want to drop to his knees and slick Kaveh’s hole with his tongue, getting him pliant and relaxed before standing back up and thrusting into him, until Kaveh’s knees give out and his hands scrabble against the counter for purchase, his body held up by an arm cinched around his waist as he moans and begs sweetly.

Alhaitham frees his finger from Kaveh’s mouth and drags it down his chin, then reaches lower and lets his fingertips graze the hard-on jutting against Kaveh’s shorts. Kaveh gasps quietly, and Alhaitham allows himself a satisfied smile. “Don’t let yourself come until tomorrow night,” Alhaitham says. “I want you to wait for my co*ck.”

Kaveh gives a small nod, and Alhaitham enjoys how his glazed eyes struggle to focus, lips still parted as if he’s waiting for Alhaitham’s finger to return—but as much as Alhaitham would like to enjoy that sight all morning, he forces himself to grab the empty coffee cup and turn toward the sink, rinsing it out as if none of that just happened.

Beneath the sound of running water, Alhaitham thinks he hears Kaveh whine quietly, and smiles at the thought.

When Kaveh enters the living room for the third time in thirty minutes—yet again aimlessly perusing shelves and rearranging items—Alhaitham sighs and sets his book aside. “I don’t suppose you could say what’s on your mind, instead of feigning an interest in the arrangement of our fruit bowl.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Kaveh drops the orange back into the bowl without protesting the aesthetic significance of his task. “I…it’s nothing. Just some nervous energy. I’ll go take a shower and—”

“Nervous?” Alhaitham repeats. “About having sex tonight?”

The guilty look on Kaveh’s face might as well be a yes. “No—or, yes, but it’s not—”

“What are you nervous about? I could try to put your mind at ease ahead of time, if you tell me.”

Kaveh hesitates, his eyes roving over the various surfaces that he’s rearranged in the past half hour. “I suppose I still don’t know what to expect. I don’t like uncertainty, and with you in charge, there are things I can’t predict or control.”

“Part of submitting involves giving up control,” Alhaitham points out.

“I know,” Kaveh mutters, looking incredibly displeased.

“But I don’t think it means losing any control,” Alhaitham says. “You still have your safewords, and my promise that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I only have as much control as you choose to give me.”

Kaveh nods uncertainly.

“Maybe you should think of this like your work as an architect,” Alhaitham says. “When a design is implemented, the architect doesn’t build it with their own two hands. The physical construction itself is delegated to contractors and builders.” Kaveh opens his mouth to interrupt, and Alhaitham holds up a hand to stop him. “I know you’re more involved in the process than most. Nonetheless, you have to let some amount of the work be done by other people, and trust that they’ll do their part.” When Kaveh doesn’t respond right away, Alhaitham asks, “Do you trust me to do my part, Kaveh?”

“What?” Kaveh’s brows draw together. “I mean, I…of course I…”

But he doesn’t say yes. His lips compress into a thin line, and something like fear creeps into his eyes.

Alhaitham nods, having found his answer. “This sort of thing requires trust—”

“I know that—”

“—so, we can postpone our plans until you’re feeling better about this.”

“No! No, I want to—”

“There’s nothing wrong with a delay. I’d rather wait until you’re more comfortable, than risk trying this when you aren’t ready.”

“But we were planning to have sex tonight. I don’t want to cancel our plans.”

“We can still have sex,” Alhaitham says, shrugging. “It just won’t involve dominant or submissive dynamics.”

“But then we wouldn’t be experimenting,” Kaveh says. “We’d just be…having sex.”

Alhaitham fails to see problem with just having sex, but he won’t bother arguing that point. “We can just pick something else from the list, then. Or you can experiment with a different style of domination. Or, since I haven’t had penetrative sex this way before, an ‘ordinary’ sexual encounter would still allow me to learn something new about my preferences.” He shrugs again. “Up to you.”

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” Kaveh insists, hugging his arms to himself. “I—I’ve been wanting to—I’ve been thinking about…Look, I’m going to have some reservations no matter how long we wait, so there’s no point in putting it off. I clearly just need to push through whatever’s bothering me, and—”

“If you felt like something was severely wrong with a design you created, to the point that you had serious reservations about it—would you hand it to a contractor and tell them to implement the design as is, without even informing them of your concerns?”

“A design…?”

“You want me to have sex with you when you still have major reservations, and when I don’t even know what those reservations are. Do you think it’s safe to proceed like that?”

Kaveh glances away, hugging his arms tighter around himself. “Probably not.”

“It’s possible that we can proceed despite whatever’s bothering you, but I can’t prepare for a problem if I don’t know what it is. If you were to close your eyes and envision the thing you’re worried about, what would you see?”

At that, Kaveh actually does close his eyes. After several moments of silence, he murmurs, “I’m afraid you’ll drop me.”

“Drop?” Alhaitham repeats, to make sure he heard correctly. “Are you referring to the comedown that occurs after sex, and its potential to result in an emotional low?”

“No, not that. I trust you to do proper aftercare.”

“Aftercare won’t necessarily prevent that from happening. Human psychology can be unpredictable, so it’s a valid concern even if you trust me to handle aftercare correctly.”

“No,” Kaveh says, with a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I’m not talking about that kind of drop.”

“A physical one, then?” It seems unlikely, but maybe Kaveh’s concern is strangely specific like that. “We can avoid any positions where—”

“No! Don’t—see, this is exactly what I’m worried about, that you’ll…” Kaveh falters and shakes his head, lips pursed tight.

“That I’ll what?”

“I’m being serious! You asked what my reservations are, and I’m trying to tell you—”

“And I’m trying to understand.”

“No, you’re trying to make fun of me,” Kaveh says, gritting his teeth. “A physical drop, hilarious. Yes, that’s it. I’m afraid that your big muscled arms will pick me up and drop me. I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, and then, as gently as he can manage: “Kaveh.” Kaveh’s round eyes dart toward him, then back toward the floor. “My question was genuine. I’m not sure what other type of drop you could be referring to. A physical one did seem unlikely, but it was my next best guess. I don’t gain anything from mocking you, since that directly undermines my goal of making you feel more comfortable.”

Kaveh nods almost imperceptibly. “I—” He sighs. “I meant that, metaphorically, I’m placing myself in your hands. And I know we’ve discussed things ahead of time, and that you’ll provide adequate aftercare, but…the feeling of plummeting, that—that’s what I keep anticipating.”

“I see.” Kaveh’s words fit together to form a clearer picture, now: This is exactly what I’m worried about. I’m being serious, and you’re trying to make fun of me. I’m placing myself in your hands, but I keep anticipating that you’ll drop me.

Alhaitham still doesn’t understand what he’s done to give Kaveh that impression, but at least he’s figured out part of the reason for Kaveh’s reluctance.

“It would be naive of me to think that my words are enough to erase your concerns,” Alhaitham says. “However, I think that my silence on the matter will make things worse, so I’ll say this much: I don’t see any of this as a joke, and I’m taking this experiment seriously, especially when it comes to your comfort. I’m aware that I lack sexual experience, but I’ve educated myself on the topic to the best of my ability—and although this isn’t the sort of thing I would mention to our friends, I did consult the shopkeeper who sold me the handcuffs, and—”

“Wait, you did?” Kaveh says. “But—wasn’t that awkward, or—”

“No. Books can’t be a person’s only source of information, after all. Short of getting hands-on experience myself, the best I can do is seek advice from others who have that experience.” Alhaitham waits for Kaveh’s eyes to meet his, then says, “I’ll be careful, Kaveh. You know that I think before I act, and that I don’t tolerate errors or mediocrity in my work. I can’t promise that everything will go right, but I promise that it’s my intent to keep things from going wrong.”

For a long moment—too long—Kaveh stares at Alhaitham quietly, his face unreadable. It’s always a bit unbalancing when Kaveh’s usual expressiveness is muted like this; Alhaitham’s eyes drift down to Kaveh’s shoulders, to avoid the confusing stillness of his gaze.

“I’ll trust you,” Kaveh says, finally. “You have no reason to lie, and you’re clearly putting in a lot of effort to make this work, so…I’m going to trust you with this.”

Alhaitham nods, satisfied. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Show me what?”

“I can join you in the shower, and demonstrate how I intend to do things.”

“Wh—I don’t want to do the entire scene in the shower—”

“Not a full sexual encounter,” Alhaitham clarifies. “I’ll just ask you to do a few things for me, before I leave you to get ready on your own.”

“Ask me…?”

Alhaitham raises his eyebrows. “To see how obedient you are.” Kaveh’s mouth forms a silent oh, and a subtle flush steadily creeps across his cheeks. “Think of it like a scale model, or an initial sketch. I’ll try a few things, and you can get a feel for my style of domination. If you like how things go, we’ll continue in the bedroom—and if you don’t, then we’ll find another way to enjoy ourselves tonight.”

“Oh. Um. Yes. That sounds fine.”

“You said that you were going to shower now?” Alhaitham asks, getting to his feet. “Go on, then. I’ll follow.”

When they reach the bathroom, Kaveh hesitates, tightly gripping the doorframe. Alhaitham nudges the small of his back, urging him forward, then closes the door behind the two of them.

Alhaitham immediately strips off his shirt and tosses it aside, but as he reaches for the button of his pants, he realizes that Kaveh is simply standing there and staring, his eyes roving over Alhaitham’s chest. “Are you planning to shower with your clothes on?” Alhaitham asks, tugging his pants and underwear down.

“Wh—” Kaveh blinks and shakes his head. “No, I…”

“Then take them off, Kaveh.” Alhaitham kicks his pants to the side and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the bathroom sink. “I’m waiting.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.”

Kaveh fumbles with his layers of clothes, baring himself one garment at a time until he’s fully nude. Glancing away, he hugs his arms to himself while Alhaitham drags his eyes over each centimeter of skin that’s been revealed.

Alhaitham considers saying took long enough, to play the part—but right now Kaveh seems too nervous and self-conscious for that kind of talk. “Good,” Alhaitham says, instead.

“I didn’t do much,” Kaveh mutters. He turns and retrieves a few pins from a canister on the counter, briskly securing his hair in a loose bun.

“You gave me something nice to look at,” Alhaitham says, letting his eyes linger on Kaveh’s slim waist. “Now turn on the water and get it to a good temperature.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Kaveh grumbles, even as he reaches into the shower and turns on the water. “I was already going to.”

“Hm.” Alhaitham trails a fingertip down Kaveh’s spine, smiling when Kaveh twitches at the touch. “Maybe. But I like seeing you do what I tell you to.”

Kaveh sighs and shakes his head, leaning forward to adjust the water temperature. His ass juts out compellingly as he does, giving Alhaitham a desperate need to get his hands on that tan skin—and then Alhaitham remembers that he’s in control right now, which means there’s nothing stopping him from doing just that.

He reaches a hand down and squeezes Kaveh’s plump ass, causing him to yelp. “How’s the temperature?” Alhaitham asks.

He might be imagining it, but Kaveh seems to press back against his palm, chasing that point of contact. “It’s getting warmer,” Kaveh says. “Ah, almost…”

Humming, Alhaitham slides his hand to Kaveh’s hip, then down along the crease of his thigh. “Getting warmer?” he teases, his fingers inching toward Kaveh’s co*ck.

“You—” Kaveh groans and readjusts the water, pretending not to notice Alhaitham’s hand as it returns to groping his ass.

Steam fills the space, water quietly pattering against the tile wall and floor. Idly, Alhaitham wonders if he should offer to let Kaveh redo the tiling, given his interest in that aesthetic feature—but Kaveh’s voice interrupts that thought before he can consider it further.

“It’s ready,” Kaveh says. He starts to step into the shower, but Alhaitham grabs his arm and pulls him back, stopping him. “What is it?”

“Hold on,” Alhaitham tells him. He slips past Kaveh to stand under the stream of water, sighing as it pleasantly warms his skin. “Oh, you’re right. This temperature is perfect.”

Kaveh co*cks his hip and crosses his arms, his lips pressed tight in a frown. “Now that we’ve established that—”

Alhaitham interrupts with a disinterested mm hm and reaches for the soap. As he lathers it between his hands, Kaveh peevishly shifts from one foot to the other in the corner of his eye, still standing where Alhaitham left him.

After several seconds, Kaveh clears his throat. “Is there a reason I’m still standing out here?”

“Hm?” Alhaitham makes a show of glancing over at Kaveh, who has his arms hugged to his naked chest and his legs pressed close together, guarding himself against the faint chill in the air. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“Because we’ve agreed that I’m in charge,” Alhaitham says, “and I said so.”

Kaveh’s eyes widen, and Alhaitham wonders if he recognizes those exact words from the day they tried the handcuffs, when Alhaitham complained that his nakedness was unnecessary and Kaveh cheekily flaunted his ability to make Alhaitham obey.

“Would you like to stand under the water?” Alhaitham asks, and of course Kaveh doesn’t honor that with an answer; he just keeps glaring at Alhaitham as goosebumps creep down his arms. “It is nice and warm. Quite comfortable.” Still no response—Kaveh simply rolls his eyes and glares off to the side. Humming, Alhaitham makes a show of circling his chest with soapy fingertips. “Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s narrowed eyes flick back to his face. “Yes, Alhaitham?”

Alhaitham smooths a slick thumb over his nipple. “You like playing with my nipples, don’t you?”

He pinches it invitingly, and Kaveh sighs.

“What was that?” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh gives him a flat look. “Yes, I—I like that.”

“You like what?” Alhaitham tugs lightly at his nipple, trying not to smirk at Kaveh’s irritated pout. “Me playing with them, instead of you?”

“Wh—no, I—or, yes, but—”

“Hm? What is it that you like, Kaveh?”

“I…” Kaveh ducks his head and looks away, leaving Alhaitham with a view of one pink ear. “I like playing with them.”

Oh. That’s…

Cute.

There’s a unique allure in Kaveh acting flustered and timid; the bashful mood is a complete departure from his usual confidence. It makes Alhaitham want to embarrass Kaveh more, coaxing him to give up control and be taken care of, so that he mindlessly sinks into the pleasure Alhaitham gives him.

“Then come over here,” Alhaitham says, letting the water rinse the soap off his skin. “Play with my chest.”

Kaveh cautiously steps into the shower, and Alhaitham moves aside to let him under the water. Kaveh lets out a small satisfied hum when the warmth finally reaches his skin, then turns to Alhaitham and hesitantly rests his fingertips on his chest.

“Go on,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh strokes Alhaitham’s nipple with his thumb. “Use your mouth, too.”

Kaveh leans in and presses his lips to the other side of Alhaitham’s chest, licking and nipping at the wet skin. His hands rub and squeeze the muscle, almost kneading like a cat at times—but the weight of his touch feels good, and even more than that, Alhaitham likes knowing that Kaveh is doing this at his behest, acting under his control.

Alhaitham strokes Kaveh’s hair and pets his nape for a minute of that, then reaches down and twists one of Kaveh’s nipples, making him gasp. “Look up at me,” Alhaitham says. “Keep your eyes on my face.”

Those bright eyes flick upward at his command, round and wide as Kaveh’s tongue darts out to lick his chest. Alhaitham smooths his hand down Kaveh’s hair again, then grabs a few strands and tugs lightly.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Alhaitham checks.

Kaveh shakes his head, mouth rounded to suck Alhaitham’s chest—and now Alhaitham can’t help but imagine yanking on Kaveh’s hair while those lips are stretched wide around his co*ck, pretty voice muffled as he tries not to choke on the length.

Mm. He’ll file away that thought for another time.

“That’s enough,” Alhaitham decides, and Kaveh pulls back from his chest, eyes still trained on him. “Wash my back.” Kaveh’s brow scrunches in either confusion or displeasure, so Alhaitham tugs lightly at his hair, tilting his head back. “Is there a problem? I asked you to wash my back, Kaveh.”

“You didn’t ask,” Kaveh grumbles. “You ordered me to.”

“I suppose I did.” Alhaitham pulls harder on Kaveh’s hair, forcing his chin higher. “Is there a reason you haven’t started yet?”

Kaveh sighs and grabs the soap. “Fine,” he says, retrieving a washcloth as well. “Turn around, then.”

And maybe Alhaitham would have turned around—if not for the fact that Kaveh just used the imperative mood with the person who’s in charge tonight. “I don’t think I will,” he says. “You can stand behind me.”

Of course, there’s not much room between Alhaitham’s back and the wall, the way he’s currently standing—and Kaveh clearly realizes that, scowling as his eyes go between Alhaitham and the tile. “Are you going to move, at least?”

“Since you asked like that—no.”

Cheeks puffed, Kaveh inhales through his nose and exhales noisily. “Could you step forward, please?”

“No. I’ve already decided I’m not moving.” Alhaitham folds his arms across his chest and raises an eyebrow. “Well, Kaveh?”

With a huff, Kaveh crams himself between Alhaitham’s back and the wall, his arms bent awkwardly to run the washcloth over Alhaitham’s shoulders. Alhaitham presses backward a bit, enough to feel Kaveh’s half-hard co*ck brush against his ass—and then he leans back fully, pinning Kaveh against the tile wall.

Kaveh yelps and jerks against him. “Hm?” Alhaitham says, tipping his head back. “Is something wrong?”

“Th-the wall is cold, you ass!”

“Oh, I see. That must have been a shock.” Alhaitham casually grinds his ass backward, pulling a choked sound from Kaveh’s lips. “Better hurry up, then, so that you aren’t stuck like this for too long.”

Despite the teasing, Kaveh washes his back gently—and Alhaitham finds that it’s surprisingly relaxing to have another person softly scrub his skin that way. When Kaveh finishes and grumbles that Alhaitham is free to rinse himself off if he so desires, Alhaitham quickly does, then reaches for the soap and works it into a lather between his hands.

“Stand facing the water,” Alhaitham says. “I’ll wash yours.”

“Wha—oh.” Kaveh complies, hugging his arms close to himself. “Alright.”

“Arms down, hands clasped in front of you,” Alhaitham tells him. “And stand up straight.”

Kaveh dutifully straightens and rolls his shoulders back, but the resulting posture is far too rigid, muscles tight and tensed. Alhaitham rests his hands on Kaveh’s shoulders and gently digs his fingers into the tension, massaging his skin.

“Relax,” Alhaitham says. He trails his palms down Kaveh’s sides and uses his thumbs to rub the small of Kaveh’s back, until Kaveh sighs and starts to go limp beneath his touch. When his head lolls to the side, though, Alhaitham gives his waist an admonishing pinch. “Posture, Kaveh.”

With Kaveh no longer quite as tense, Alhaitham washes his shoulders and back, taking time to admire the lean muscle beneath his fingers. Although Kaveh isn’t built like some of the people who work on his construction sites, there’s still a quiet strength in his limbs, an emblem of the endurance that carries him across deserts and difficult terrain. This body works tirelessly, and too much—but nothing anyone says or does will ever stop Kaveh from overexerting himself.

Tempted once again, Alhaitham runs his hands down to Kaveh’s ass and squeezes. “You really do have a nice ass, Kaveh,” he murmurs, and Kaveh twitches, arching his back slightly. Biting back a smile, Alhaitham reaches his hands around Kaveh’s front and lightly pinches his nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. “Do you like that?”

Kaveh nods.

“Answer in a full sentence,” Alhaitham says.

“Yes, I…I like that.”

Hm. Not enough. “Let’s be more specific. What am I doing right now that you like, Kaveh?”

“Y-you’re—” Kaveh sucks in a breath, hips jerking as Alhaitham’s hands squeeze his chest. “You’re touching my chest.”

Alhaitham adjusts his hands so that his index fingers prod Kaveh’s pectorals, resting motionless against the skin. “Only touching?”

“You—ugh, no, you’re—I don’t know, playing—stimulating—?”

“And nowhere in particular?” Alhaitham slides his fingers upward to tap just below Kaveh’s collarbones. “I’m just playing with ‘your chest’?”

Kaveh huffs. “My nipples.”

“That’s right, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, trailing his hands back down. “Your nipples. Now combine those sentences.” When Kaveh says nothing, Alhaitham presses his lips to his ear and prompts, “You like…?”

“I—I like—” Kaveh exhales shakily. “I like when you…” Alhaitham pinches his chest again, and he groans and arches his back insistently, leaving the thought unfinished.

Alhaitham drops his hands from Kaveh’s chest. “Hm? So there’s nothing you like?”

“No, I—you know I do!”

“Then why can’t you say it, if you like it so much?”

“Do I have to?” Kaveh mutters.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Alhaitham says, “but I won’t touch you again until you say it.”

Kaveh growls. “I—I like when you play with my nipples.”

At that, Alhaitham resumes toying with them, pinching and tugging at Kaveh’s chest. “Your ears are red,” he murmurs against Kaveh’s throat, earning another gasp. “Cute.”

Kaveh whines quietly, arms twitching as he strains to keep them in front of himself. “Ugh, that’s because you—ngh—” Alhaitham’s mouth nips at a sensitive spot on his neck, and Kaveh tries in vain to crane his head away. “You’re making me say…embarrassing things…”

Smoothing his hands downward, Alhaitham wraps his arms around Kaveh—pinning Kaveh’s own limbs in place—then moves closer so that his hips sit firmly against Kaveh’s ass. “How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s a giant dick pressed against me,” Kaveh grumbles.

“Are you referring to me, or my member?”

“Why not both?”

“Insulting me is an interesting strategy for getting what you want.”

“Didn’t we agree that I wouldn’t make things easy for you?”

“Fine by me,” Alhaitham says, shallowly grinding his hips. “I’m not the one who’s gone months without having a co*ck inside him.”

Kaveh whimpers at that, and Alhaitham rests his chin on Kaveh’s shoulder with a smirk. “I—you—that’s not fair—”

“I fail to see any injustice.” Alhaitham reaches up and presses one of his hands over Kaveh’s heart, feeling its steady thump beneath his palm. “Are you feeling alright? Do you want to continue this in the bedroom?”

“Yes, just…as long as you promise that it will feel good.” Kaveh’s last few words are so quiet that if Alhaitham weren’t standing so close, the sound of water might have drowned them out.

“I intend for it to,” Alhaitham says, brushing his lips against Kaveh’s throat. “But I can’t read your mind. Do you remember what I need you to do for me?”

“Tell you if I don’t like something,” Kaveh murmurs.

“Good.” Kaveh lets out another whine in response, and Alhaitham smiles, pleased at the encouragement. “As long as you do that, I can make you feel good.”

To Alhaitham’s surprise, Kaveh moans and grinds backward, almost like he wants to take things further in the shower after all. Alhaitham steps back with a cautionary ah, releasing Kaveh from his grip.

“Not yet,” he says. “You need to finish preparing first. Come to my room once you’re done.”

Alhaitham quickly dries himself off and returns to his bedroom, where he then deliberates whether to put on clothes. On one hand, it would be completely unnecessary, but on the other…well, as Alhaitham discovered on the couch the other day, he’s turned on by being clothed while Kaveh is completely naked.

When Kaveh is stripped of every garment and accessory, he’s embarrassed and vulnerable, and it creates the perception of a power imbalance between them: Alhaitham shows nothing, while Kaveh bares all; Alhaitham can go anywhere, while Kaveh’s nakedness confines him to the house; Alhaitham is perfectly comfortable, while Kaveh feels the chill of the room, the texture of the floor beneath his feet, the softness of sheets against his skin.

And apparently Alhaitham enjoys that.

He’s hardly surprised, since plenty of his fantasies so far have involved dominating Kaveh. Alhaitham already knew that he’d probably like having sex this way; the only thing he hasn’t quite figured out is why exactly he likes it.

Not that he’s reducing sex to a quest for data, as Kaveh disdainfully described it. But Alhaitham has always sought knowledge of how things work, hoping to see as much of the truth as possible—and that remains a curiosity of his, even as he’s becoming increasingly more interested in the physical aspect of things.

Outside of sex, Alhaitham has no desire to hold power over others, nor does he feel like he lacks control in his everyday life. (If anything, he was given an inconvenient amount of responsibility as the Acting Grand Sage; in hindsight, it would have been nice to have Kaveh tie him up and f*ck the stress out of him during all that.) So, it’s not as if Alhaitham would use sex to compensate for any feelings of powerlessness.

Except…over the past several days, Alhaitham has been feeling rather powerless when it comes to Kaveh: unable to understand his moods, to make him feel better when he’s upset, to respond with words that won’t get him worked up. Maybe that actually is the reason Alhaitham likes seeing Kaveh act more agreeable in a sexual context.

Or maybe he just thinks that Kaveh is attractive with his hands pinned down, face red, whining and moaning and losing the will to resist.

Alhaitham compromises by donning a pair of loose pants, then climbs into bed and settles against the pillows with a random book plucked from his shelves.

He’ll need to be careful tonight. There are very few ways in which Kaveh trusts Alhaitham, but he is trusting him with this. If Alhaitham somehow violates that trust, the emotional harm will be more severe than usual.

Staring past the book in his hand, Alhaitham reviews his strategy. He’ll pay close attention to Kaveh’s body language, and of course he’ll check in verbally, since he can’t solely rely on physical cues. He’ll try to make his intentions clear with teasing tones and playful gestures, so that Kaveh doesn’t feel attacked or belittled. If Kaveh seems too nervous, Alhaitham might even employ a bit of verbal praise, since Kaveh sometimes responds positively to that.

Considering how Kaveh reacted when Alhaitham said good in the shower a few minutes ago…Alhaitham does want to experiment more with that particular kink. The problem is that although Kaveh preens when his work is praised, he’s generally terrible at accepting compliments about his person—and given the current state of their relationship, he’ll perceive most praise from Alhaitham as sarcastic or disingenuous. This isn’t like their friendship as students, when Alhaitham praised Kaveh’s unique perspectives and Kaveh easily believed him; nowadays, Kaveh suspects that any kind word from Alhaitham holds a hidden barb or veils disdain. For now, Alhaitham will need to use praise sparingly, or else Kaveh might spiral and search for insults where there are none.

And that brings Alhaitham to the thing that makes him feel like he still hasn’t done enough planning for this—because he knows what Kaveh wants him to do, but he doesn’t know what Kaveh actually wants.

When Alhaitham purchased those handcuffs, the advice he received from the shopkeeper was that it’s important for him and his partner to understand their desires, especially when it comes to experimenting with dominance and submissiveness. In other words, he and Kaveh both need to figure out what they want from the power dynamic. And for whoever’s dominating, the woman had told him, it’s especially important to know what the submissive partner needs. Remember, they give power to the dominant partner because they trust that their needs will be met.

Except, of course, the dominant partner can only do that if they know what the submissive’s needs are.

And Alhaitham feels woefully underprepared for answering that question.

For days, Alhaitham has analyzed his conversations with Kaveh as if he’ll be expected to write an Akademiya thesis on them. He knows that Kaveh genuinely wants to try being submissive, despite having reservations. He’s also fairly certain that although Kaveh is fixated on the idea of reciprocity, his desire to switch roles isn’t just because Alhaitham has been the only one to submit until now. After all, Kaveh has admitted that he has fantasies about being dominated, so he clearly finds the concept alluring to some extent.

Kaveh wants to submit—but he feels like submitting means giving up control, which he absolutely loathes doing. It stands to reason that he does want to let go for once, and simply can’t reach that headspace on his own…which means that he’s counting on Alhaitham to get him there, somehow.

Not exactly a simple equation, when Alhaitham has to solve for so many variables. He wonders if he should have pushed Kaveh for more concrete answers when they spoke before.

Movement flickers in Alhaitham’s periphery, and he glances up to see Kaveh standing in the bedroom doorway, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist.

“So…” Kaveh trails off, eyes darting around the room.

Ah. Alhaitham can see the thoughts racing behind those eyes. “Drop the towel,” he tells Kaveh.

Kaveh’s eyes snap to Alhaitham’s face, and with a quiet oh, he begins carefully unwrapping the towel.

“No, not like that,” Alhaitham says. “Just let it fall on the ground.”

After a slight pause, Kaveh lets go of the towel, and it falls in a heap at his feet. Avoiding Alhaitham’s eyes, he stares at the foot of the mattress.

“That’s better,” Alhaitham says. He silently lets his eyes wander over Kaveh’s body, looking at nothing in particular—he just wants to make Kaveh feel exposed, unable to escape being seen.

“Well?” Kaveh says, crossing his arms. “Are you just going to stare at me?”

“Hm?” Alhaitham pretends to consider that question, then shrugs. “No,” he says, turning back to the book in his hands.

“Alhaitham,” Kaveh says, teeth gritted.

Alhaitham slowly drags his eyes away from the book, satisfied with how Kaveh’s jaw clenches in response. “Oh, you didn’t just come here to show off your body? In that case, can I help you with something, Kaveh?”

“You—you know exactly what thing you can help with!”

“I’m not sure I do. Does it involve the fact that you’re naked?”

“Yes!”

“I see,” Alhaitham says, glancing up at Kaveh again. “Do you need help getting dressed, then?”

Kaveh splutters, his face contorting into an entertainingly outraged expression. “My mistake,” he says, finally. “I could have sworn that someone in this house wanted to have sex with me, but perhaps I have the wrong room. Should I try the one next door? Maybe I’ll have better luck with one of the dild*s in there.”

“Sure,” Alhaitham says, shrugging again as he returns to his book. “Try to keep it down, though. I left my headphones in the living room, so I won’t be able to focus on my book if you’re too loud.”

“Are you serious?” Kaveh exclaims, and Alhaitham lets his eyes slide up to Kaveh’s face once more.

“I did leave my headphones in the living room, yes,” Alhaitham says, “and it’s true that I would find it very distracting if you gasped and moaned while I was trying to read.”

“Wh—you—” Kaveh’s mouth flaps as he casts around the room for a solution. “Am—am I supposed to ask? Are you…you are! You’re trying to make me beg!”

“Beg? I find it troublesome when people grovel in an attempt to get something from me. All I want is an answer to my question, which is: what can I help you with, Kaveh?”

Teeth gritted, Kaveh glares at the wall behind Alhaitham’s head. “I’m looking for a dick that can be inserted into my ass. Would you happen to have one of those, Alhaitham?”

“Yes,” Alhaitham says, “though I’m sure your collection is more impressive. Like I told you before, the dild* I own is rather unremarkable.”

“I—you—” With a huff, Kaveh kicks away the towel tangled around his feet. “I meant your actual dick—but seeing as it’s attached to a terrible personality, maybe I shouldn’t bother.”

“Oh, so you want me to f*ck you.” Alhaitham tries not to smirk when Kaveh splutters all over again. “You could have asked more politely, but I’m in a good mood, so—sure. I don’t see why not.”

And then he goes back to pretending that he’s reading his book.

Several beats of silence follow, and Kaveh sighs in annoyance. “How long are you going to make me keep standing here?”

“Hm?” Alhaitham turns the page of his book. “I haven’t made you do anything. There’s plenty of room on the bed. You’re free to sit here if you want.”

He almost laughs at the outraged squawk that erupts from Kaveh’s lips, and when Kaveh stomps over to the bed and climbs onto the sheets beside him, settling back against the pillows with his arms crossed. It takes a surprising amount of restraint for Alhaitham to keep his face placid, eyes fixed on the book that he isn’t actually reading.

Hm. Kaveh really is fun to rile up, when Alhaitham doesn’t have to worry about genuinely offending him.

In the corner of Alhaitham’s eye, Kaveh’s fingers drum against his arms, and a quiet growl grates in his throat. “Yes, Kaveh?” Alhaitham says.

“You—come on! How long are you going to make me wait?!”

“Is that how you usually ask for things you want? Hm. If that’s how members of your darshan approach grant proposals, no wonder Kshahrewar doesn’t get more funding.”

“Low blow,” Kaveh hisses.

Alhaitham snorts and turns another page of his book.

After a bit more fidgeting and annoyed huffing, Kaveh reaches over and makes a grab for Alhaitham’s book. Alhaitham holds it out of reach, fixing Kaveh with a firm look. “Do you think that’s a good way to ingratiate yourself to me? You seem to have an unfortunate habit of snatching things from my hands.”

Humming, he flips his book upside-down and turns the page, earning an indignant shout from Kaveh. “And you have an unfortunate habit of being a—a—argh! Come on! You aren’t even reading that stupid thing—”

When Kaveh grabs at the book yet again, Alhaitham tosses it onto the nightstand and deftly catches Kaveh’s outstretched wrist with one hand. He shoves Kaveh down onto the pillows without giving him a chance to protest, grabbing Kaveh’s other hand as he does.

“You’ve got quite the attitude,” Alhaitham says, pinning Kaveh’s wrists against the bed. “Tell me, senior, is this the example you want to set for your junior? If I really have such a terrible personality, then you should try to be a better role model.”

Kaveh stares up at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, hair messily fanned against the cushions. “I—you…”

“Do you think I’m too difficult?” Alhaitham shifts his weight so that his legs straddle Kaveh’s shoulders, then sits down on his knees with his crotch centimeters from Kaveh’s face. “Then I think you can set a good example by accepting the help that’s offered to you.”

Alhaitham releases one of Kaveh’s hands so that he can tug his pants lower, exposing his co*ck. Kaveh’s half-lidded eyes follow the flushed tip as it bobs and arcs close to his lips, his gaze seeming transfixed.

“You want a co*ck inside you?” Alhaitham says. He reaches down to stroke himself, bending forward slightly in order to keep Kaveh’s other wrist pinned—and despite the slightly awkward position, Alhaitham enjoys how it cages Kaveh in. Smiling, he swipes precum onto his thumb and runs it along Kaveh’s lip. “Let’s see you properly appreciate it with this, first.”

Kaveh licks his lips and stares up at Alhaitham, saying nothing. Satisfied with the lack of protest, Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s hands and slides them down the mattress to rest beside his bent knees.

“If you want me to stop, tap either leg three times,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh nods. “Do that now, to show me you understand.”

One of Kaveh’s hands firmly taps Alhaitham’s thigh three times, each tap clear and distinct.

“Just like that,” Alhaitham says. Moving his hips forward, he rests his palm on Kaveh’s head and guides his lips to the tip of his co*ck. “Now show me how a junior should respect his senior.”

Kaveh rounds his lips and takes Alhaitham’s co*ck into his mouth, softly sucking with a faraway look in his eyes; it’s the same expression he wears whenever he’s swept away by inspiration for a new design, equal parts dazed and devoted.

Then Kaveh starts bobbing his head to slide his lips up and down Alhaitham’s co*ck, and Alhaitham bites back a groan. “I see,” he says, petting Kaveh’s hair. “A junior should be nice and quiet, and suck his senior’s co*ck without complaint. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kaveh moans softly, and his hands reach up to grab Alhaitham’s ass and pull him closer.

“Ah,” Alhaitham warns, gently grabbing Kaveh’s hands. “Keep those hands down here.” He slides Kaveh’s palms down to rest on his thighs. “I don’t think juniors should be too demanding of their seniors.”

Kaveh’s eyes flutter shut, and he groans. Alhaitham presses a hand against his head again, holding him in place, and then rocks his hips forward, pressing more of his co*ck into Kaveh’s mouth. He hears the wet click of Kaveh’s throat accommodating the length, and lets out an appreciative hum as he begins to thrust in and out.

“Feeling alright?” Alhaitham asks, pausing just long enough for Kaveh to nod before he resumes slowly f*cking his mouth. “Hm. So, if a junior mouths off, his senior should f*ck that mouth until he’s quiet? Makes sense.”

He trails his fingers along the sensitive spot behind Kaveh’s ear, then grabs his head and pushes it forward a bit farther. Kaveh makes a slight choked sound as his throat closes, and Alhaitham stills, waiting for Kaveh to relax before he starts moving his hips again. Once Kaveh does, Alhaitham continues until the tight feeling of Kaveh’s throat threatens to make him come too soon, which is when he reluctantly eases his co*ck out of Kaveh’s mouth, savoring the sight of spit and precum clinging to soft lips.

Alhaitham strokes Kaveh’s face while he pants for breath with unfocused eyes. “Thank you, senior,” Alhaitham says. “That demonstration was quite illuminating.”

Kaveh’s cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed where Alhaitham grabbed it—but Alhaitham can only think that he doesn’t look nearly disheveled enough.

Alhaitham shifts his weight and slides down Kaveh’s body so that their hips are aligned. Grinding against Kaveh’s co*ck, he presses his lips to Kaveh’s throat and sucks.

Kaveh gasps and jerks beneath him. “You—that—that’s too high!” he says, batting at Alhaitham’s arm. “My shirts won’t cover those—ah, f*ck, those marks…”

“Oh, good,” Alhaitham says, nipping at the spot. “I was afraid I’d aimed too low.”

“You—!”

“Is something wrong, senior? I thought high marks were considered a good thing among Akademiya scholars.”

Kaveh groans in frustration. “You know, a—according to your findings, I should be—oh…” His legs wrap snug around Alhaitham’s waist, and he bucks his hips to rub against Alhaitham’s co*ck. “Should be shoving my dick in your mouth right now, to shut you up.”

“Am I mouthing off, though?” Alhaitham flicks his tongue over the bruise he’s created, then moves to a new spot and starts sucking. “I believe I’ve got my mouth on you, actually.”

“Ugh! Y-you’re lucky that…” Kaveh lets out a pleased hum, tangling one of his hands in Alhaitham’s hair. “You have a decent dick, or I wouldn’t…”

“You wouldn’t what? Wouldn’t be naked and blushing underneath me, trying not to moan while you think about my co*ck filling you up?”

Kaveh doesn’t quite manage to stop himself from whimpering at those words. His hips jerk upward again, and he tugs insistently at Alhaitham’s hair.

And as much as Alhaitham liked that, he does want to test Kaveh’s ability to follow orders. “Don’t pull,” he warns. He works on leaving another bruise on Kaveh’s neck, skimming a palm down to his waist—and then Kaveh breathes out a curse and yanks on his hair again.

Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s wrists and leans back. “I said no pulling,” he says, as Kaveh stares up at him and pants for breath. “Looks like I’ll need to address your attitude problem.”

Kaveh arches his eyebrows. “Are you going to f*ck it out of me?”

“No, because I know that’s what you want. I’d just be rewarding bad behavior if I did that.”

“Not at all,” Kaveh says, wetting his lips. “I’d consider it a punishment to have an obnoxious dick in my ass.”

“Are you anthropomorphizing my co*ck this time,” Alhaitham asks, “or insulting my personality again?”

A self-satisfied smile tugs at Kaveh’s lips. “Entirely the latter.”

“Hm.” Alhaitham releases Kaveh’s hands and runs a fingertip along the inside of Kaveh’s thigh, up to where slick oil clings to curls of hair. “It seems like it would be a lot of trouble to f*ck you. Maybe I should just jerk you off and be done with it, so that I can get back to my book sooner.”

“Wh—” Kaveh’s budding smile morphs into a scowl. “Don’t you dare! I’ve been riled up since yesterday morning, but you told me to wait until tonight, so I—you’d better not—”

“Oh? So you waited?” Alhaitham slides his finger higher, pressing just below Kaveh’s entrance. “You obeyed my order, and haven’t come since then? Maybe you’re more compliant than I gave you credit for.”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t do it to obey, I just…I wanted to wait, since it would feel more satisfying that way—and I didn’t want to disappoint you, by ruining your plans—”

“So you wanted to please me?” Alhaitham says, with a smug smile.

“No, I—I was just being polite—”

“Senior Kaveh,” Alhaitham teases, cupping his chin with a hand. “I’m not convinced your disobedience is genuine. It seems like you might secretly want to be good for me.”

Kaveh’s eyes widen, and he stutters out a protest that’s undermined by the blush on his face. Leaning down to brush his lips against Kaveh’s ear, Alhaitham adds, “You’re pretending that you haven’t been looking forward to this, but why deny yourself what you want? If you ask for my co*ck nicely, Kaveh, it’s all yours.”

He leans back to catch Kaveh’s eye, but Kaveh wrenches his head to the side, lips pressed shut.

“Well?” Alhaitham says. “Let’s hear it.”

Kaveh silently stares at the shelf across the room.

“You won’t even look at your junior when he’s talking to you?” Alhaitham says. “That isn’t very respectful. You’re setting a bad example, senior.”

Head still turned, Kaveh rolls his eyes in response.

Alhaitham firmly grabs his face and tugs it back toward him, fingers digging into those flushed cheeks. “I think you should look at me when I’m talking to you.”

For a moment, Kaveh’s startled expression makes Alhaitham worry that he’s been too stern—until Kaveh moans quietly and grinds his hips upward, his brows drawn together in desperation.

“I’m waiting,” Alhaitham says.

“f*ck me properly,” Kaveh demands, bucking his hips again.

“When you still haven’t agreed to behave?”

“Maybe I’d behave if you f*cked me already,” Kaveh mutters.

Alhaitham trails his hand down to Kaveh’s throat, thumb and fingers resting on opposite sides. He’s careful not to grab or squeeze—but Kaveh gasps at the light touch anyway, and Alhaitham soothingly strokes his thumb over a pulse point. Kaveh’s lips part in response, and his eyes drift half-shut, almost as if he’s been sedated.

Mm. Interesting.

“I’ll f*ck you if you promise to cooperate, first,” Alhaitham says. “I’m losing valuable reading time, so I need to be assured that you’ll make good use of my attention. Or should I just spit on my palm and get this over with?”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to f*ck me, too,” Kaveh says. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Kaveh’s right, of course; Alhaitham likely wants it even more than he does. But Alhaitham enjoys this back-and-forth, too. He likes knowing where their ‘disagreement’ ends, for once—knowing that they share a common goal right now, even if they bicker along the way. “So, Kaveh, what will it be? Will you promise to behave, and ask nicely for what you want?” He slides his hand down to Kaveh’s co*ck and loosely wraps his fingers around it. “Or will we just do this instead?”

“I…you…” Kaveh’s expression tightens, and he grits out, “The first.”

“Alright, then.” Several moments of silence follow, and when Kaveh still hasn’t said anything, Alhaitham says, “I’m waiting.”

“Wh—I said the first option!”

“You did, yes. Now I’m waiting for you to promise that you’ll cooperate and do as you’re told.” Alhaitham smirks, rubbing his thumb over the wet tip of Kaveh’s co*ck. “And for you to ask for my co*ck nicely.”

Kaveh swallows. He looks unusually hesitant, now, when just a few moments ago he was full of fight.

“Come on, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “It wouldn’t be practical for me to go ahead and f*ck you without a proper agreement between us. Think about it—would you take on a commission before accepting payment?”

As soon as he’s said it, he realizes that, yes, that’s exactly the sort of thing Kaveh would do—and judging by the irritated pinch of Kaveh’s forehead, the same thought just occurred to him. “Another financial dig, really? What, is f*cking me some thankless job to you? Am I an unsavory chore that you want to be compensated for?”

“No. Like I told you before, I enjoy a challenge.” Alhaitham runs his fingertip down the length of Kaveh’s co*ck, slow and teasing. “And you certainly are a challenge, Kaveh.”

“Well, maybe I’d be easier if you spared me a few nice words, instead of telling me how much trouble I am.”

Kaveh still wears that pinched look on his face as he responds, which gives Alhaitham pause. Is Kaveh just acting the part for the sake of banter, or is he genuinely annoyed?

Alhaitham had thought he’d be able to tell, based on body language and their conversations beforehand…but now, in the moment, he isn’t entirely certain.

Kaveh said he would tell Alhaitham if he didn’t like something, and Alhaitham trusts that he’ll keep his word—except there’s likely a threshold for how much Kaveh will tolerate before saying something. That’s how he tends to handle difficult clients: he’ll try to fulfill one ridiculous request after another for a time, until eventually the client asks for something so utterly absurd that Kaveh snaps and tells them off. It doesn’t mean that he was happy with their previous requests; only that he’d kept his mouth shut for the sake of getting along.

“Alright,” Alhaitham says. “I’m sure we could go back and forth all night, but then neither one of us will get what we want. I’ve told you my terms, and you’ve accepted them—so now you need to hold up your end.”

“Fine, yes!” Kaveh snaps. “I’ll cooperate, I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll behave—just f*ck me already, would you?”

“Hm. I’m not sure that counts as asking nicely. You still sound too demanding. Have you considered saying please?”

Kaveh scowls. “Please f*ck me already. Is that satisfactory?”

Humming, Alhaitham sits up and retrieves a jar of lubricant from the nightstand. “Still no, but you’ll have a chance to think of something better while I do this.” He kneels over Kaveh and coats two fingers with oil, while Kaveh bends his legs and slides his feet back to provide better access. “I assume you already took care of this on your own?”

“You’d know by now, if you’d f*cked me like I asked.”

“You still haven’t asked,” Alhaitham notes. “Just f*ck me already—that’s an imperative sentence. You’re giving me a command.”

“And you’re oversimplifying a grammatical concept just to—oh.” Kaveh tenses slightly as Alhaitham runs his fingers around the rim of his hole. “I already took care of that, yes, so there’s no need to drag this out any more.”

“I need to make sure you’re relaxed.”

“That’s not a concern, either,” Kaveh says. Alhaitham nudges his fingertip forward, and Kaveh takes a deep breath and exhales, allowing Alhaitham’s finger to easily press inside. “Like I’ve said, I have plenty of experience doing this.”

Alhaitham grunts. Obviously he sees no issue with having sexual experience, and previously, he thought nothing of the fact that Kaveh has slept with other people before—but it bothers him now, remembering how Kaveh blurted out that sex with Alhaitham is the best he’s ever had.

What could possibly make sex with Alhaitham better? It would almost have to be his physical appearance…and yet, that doesn’t seem like nearly enough of a reason. If the two of them weren’t already acquainted, would Kaveh actually sleep with him based on physical attraction, and nothing else? Or, if they weren’t specifically experimenting with kinks, would Kaveh still prefer Alhaitham over some man he met at a bar who has far more experience with conventional sex?

And even if Alhaitham is the better choice for sexual experimentation, Kaveh must still be settling for him, to some extent—because it’s impossible for this encounter to be superior when Alhaitham has no relevant hands-on experience. It would be disingenuous of Kaveh to insist that Alhaitham is better at sexual penetration than the men who actually knew what they were doing.

“You can move your finger, you know,” Kaveh says, and Alhaitham realizes that he’s been kneeling there for several moments with a motionless finger in Kaveh’s ass.

He prods around the tight heat for a minute, searching—but if he finds the prostate, Kaveh gives no indication.

“Add another,” Kaveh says, nudging his shoulder with a foot. “If you really need assurance that I’m relaxed. Otherwise you can give me your co*ck.”

Frowning, Alhaitham presses another finger alongside the first. “I’m looking for…”

“What…oh. Don’t bother. It’s not like your dick moves the same way your finger does.” Kaveh sighs and shifts his hips, urging Alhaitham on. “At this point, I don’t even care about hitting that spot, as long as I finally get a dick inside me.”

But telling Alhaitham not to find an answer has never stopped him before—so even if Kaveh’s prostate somehow contained one of the Akademiya’s six sins, Alhaitham would still take his chances and keep searching for it.

Alhaitham works his fingers in and out, dragging them along slick walls. It’s novel, doing this to someone besides himself, feeling their body react instead of his own…especially when it’s Kaveh reacting, twitching and tensing from Alhaitham’s fingers inside him. “You might not care, senior,” Alhaitham says, “but I want to spare myself the headache of hearing you complain for the next two weeks that your dry spell was broken by a lackluster drizzle.”

He curls his fingertips, pressing upward—and after a moment, Kaveh closes his eyes and hums, shallowly rolling his hips with each circle of Alhaitham’s fingers. “Mm…there, that’s it.”

Except he seems to be enjoying himself a bit too much, so Alhaitham withdraws his fingers and reaches for the oil again.

“Wh—already?!” Kaveh says. “You could have done that longer.”

“Why? Like you said, you’re perfectly relaxed.” Alhaitham gathers oil on his fingers and slicks his co*ck, then reaches down and grabs one of Kaveh’s calves, lifting his leg off the bed. “Aren’t you the one who keeps ordering me to put my co*ck inside you as soon as possible? I do wonder, though…” He wraps a hand around his co*ck and deliberately strokes himself, watching Kaveh’s eyes follow the movement of his fingers. “Do you actually want mine, Kaveh? Or would you settle for any co*ck right now?”

“I…” Kaveh’s eyes flick back to Alhaitham’s face. “What kind of question is that!”

“A reasonable one. I’d like to know that my personal contributions are desired, and that you don’t just want ‘a dick’ inside you.”

“Your—you—what am I even supposed to say?”

“You could start by telling me that you like my co*ck. Otherwise I’ll have to conclude that you aren’t actually interested in it, and that a dild* would do the job just as well.”

Kaveh splutters, his eyes returning to the co*ck in Alhaitham’s hand. “Of course I like your—of course I like it! I wouldn’t want it inside me if I didn’t!”

“Like my what, Kaveh?”

“Ugh, your co*ck! ”

“I’m sensing some disdain. Do you normally speak that way about things you like?” Alhaitham lazily circles his thumb around the tip, watching as Kaveh’s face scrunches with irritation. “Is there something wrong with my co*ck?”

“The only thing wrong with it is that it still isn’t inside me!” Kaveh says, knocking his free foot against Alhaitham’s side. “Are you trying to torment me?”

“I’m still not convinced that you actually like my co*ck,” Alhaitham says. “You’ve said nothing’s wrong with it, but I’d like to hear something more encouraging.”

“Do you want a f*cking aesthetics essay on why it’s a nice dick?!”

“Hm, that’s a thought. Maybe later.”

“You—!”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham warns, tightening his grip on Kaveh’s leg. “You agreed to behave.”

Kaveh’s wide eyes dart around Alhaitham’s face, and he jerks his leg against Alhaitham’s hold, pale-knuckled hands fisting the bedsheets. “I—I’m not…” His voice falters, no longer indignant; now there’s an almost frantic edge to his words, each vowel wavering uncertainly. “Alhaitham, I—I don’t know what you want, I—please, just—enough, I don’t know what you’re—I can’t tell, I really can’t…I’m sorry, I…”

sh*t.

Alhaitham instantly lowers Kaveh’s leg to the mattress and brushes the disheveled bangs out of his eyes, cupping Kaveh’s face with a hand. “Safeword,” he says. “What’s your safeword?”

“I…” Kaveh winces and squeezes his eyes shut. “Yellow.”

And Alhaitham should have seen that coming, should have noticed sooner—but he pushes that frustration aside for now. “What do you need?” Alhaitham asks.

“I don’t know,” Kaveh says. “Or, I mean, I really don’t know what you want me to do, or what you actually want right now. I…I can’t tell what you’re thinking, or whether you’re serious, or…” He shakes his head. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m just—I don’t like this uncertainty.”

“I understand,” Alhaitham says.

“Everything before now was fine,” Kaveh adds. “I only started to feel this way a few moments ago.”

“Mm.” Alhaitham mentally reviews the past few minutes, then nods. “I didn’t communicate clearly enough. I should have been more straightforward about what I wanted you to do.” He lightly presses his lips to Kaveh’s jaw. “Are you alright with continuing?”

“Yes,” Kaveh breathes, sounding relieved. “Yes, I…I just felt stuck, there, for a moment.”

Alhaitham hums, trailing his lips down Kaveh’s throat. “It looks like this junior has been a bit unfair to his senior.” He leaves another kiss near the mole below Kaveh’s collarbone and peers up at him. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“I, uh…” Kaveh’s fingers card through Alhaitham’s hair and come to rest on his nape. “You are going to f*ck me, right? It…it sounded like you might not, and—”

“Yes,” Alhaitham says, mentally kicking himself. How did he manage to make Kaveh think he’d be denied that? “You were right, before—I don’t care about the book I was reading. The only thing that interests me right now is you.”

“So you’ll f*ck me?” Kaveh presses, wrapping his legs around Alhaitham’s waist. “In the next five minutes, please—I’m going insane, Haitham, I need you inside—what was it you wanted me to say, because I’ll say it, please, just—”

“Mm, hold that thought.” As much as Alhaitham likes the sound of Kaveh’s begging, they can’t move on just yet. “Anything else you want to discuss, before we continue?”

Kaveh shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, just—please…”

“Alright.” Alhaitham bends down until their foreheads are nearly touching, holding Kaveh’s gaze. “Good, Kaveh. That’s exactly how you should tell me if something’s wrong.” He smooths a palm down Kaveh’s side and squeezes his waist, then slides that hand further to hold the thigh Kaveh has hooked around him. “Well done.”

Kaveh inhales sharply at that, and more than ever, Alhaitham is tempted to douse him with praise.

On impulse, he leans down and kisses Kaveh instead, pressing him against the pillows to devour him.

Kaveh’s hands tangle in Alhaitham’s hair, pinning his face close as he tightens his legs around Alhaitham, and Alhaitham greedily takes one kiss after another from his lips, imagining that Kaveh is begging for those, too—even though Kaveh has no reason to be desperate for a careless mouth that barely knows what to do, attached to the face of a man he barely trusts.

Then Kaveh starts murmuring please between kisses, and Alhaitham breaks away, admiring the way Kaveh’s lips part to accept more. “Now,” Alhaitham says, “I’ll try to be clearer with my words this time. When I asked if you liked my co*ck…” He pauses for a reaction, but Kaveh doesn’t scoff or scowl—he just stares up at Alhaitham expectantly, panting for breath. “What I wanted was for you to tell me if you really meant it when you said that my dick is a plain, boring, average one.”

Kaveh snaps his mouth shut, making a strangled noise in his throat.

“I’ll f*ck you regardless of your answer,” Alhaitham says, “if only to prove you wrong. But that’s what I want you to tell me.”

Closing his eyes, Kaveh mumbles, “Aesthetics are subjective.”

“That’s a fair point. I’ll rephrase, then: Do you personally find my co*ck to be plain, boring, and average?”

He strokes his knuckles against Kaveh’s flushed cheek, and waits for an answer in the silence that ensues.

“No,” Kaveh finally confesses, sounding resigned. “I don’t.”

“No? That’s good to hear.” Alhaitham runs a fingertip along Kaveh’s lips and down his chin. “Then how would you describe it?” Kaveh’s face scrunches up, eyes still shut, and Alhaitham taps his finger. “Open your eyes, Kaveh. Look at my co*ck and tell me what you think.”

Alhaitham sits back on his knees and grips his co*ck, keeping his other hand firm at Kaveh’s waist. Kaveh hesitantly opens his eyes and stares for a moment, then says, “I, ah…it’s…nice.”

“Nice?” Alhaitham echoes. “Anything else?”

“Pretty.” Kaveh wets his lips and sits forward slightly, propping himself up on his arms. “And it’s a good size. I—I like that it’s big enough for me to…” He ducks his head. “To…take down my throat.”

“To choke on?” Alhaitham guesses, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

That earns a muted whimper from Kaveh. “Yes.” His eyes flick back to Alhaitham’s co*ck, and he parts his lips again, breathing quicker than before. “I like how it feels when it fills my mouth. And how it tastes. I—I like that curve on the end, f*ck, Alhaitham, that’s going to feel so good—” His voice shakes, and when Alhaitham grabs both Kaveh’s thighs to hoist them higher, Kaveh lets out a loud whine, his hips jerking. “I’ve been thinking that, ever since I saw it—gods, you’ll hit all the right spots, you’ll fill me so well, I…”

Alhaitham reaches down to position his co*ck between Kaveh’s legs, and Kaveh moans, rolling his hips needily, whispering a desperate please. “I will,” Alhaitham agrees, his face warm. He hadn’t expected Kaveh to be quite so detailed, nor for Kaveh’s words to fluster him this much. “I’ll make you feel full, Kaveh.” He grabs one leg and teasingly brushes his lips against Kaveh’s ankle, smiling as Kaveh sinks against the bed and arches his back. “If you want, I’ll even come inside and—”

“Yes,” Kaveh groans, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “Please, gods, yes, I want to be full of your—” He moans and shuts his eyes, a shiver going through him. “I’ll make it look good, you can watch it drip out—I know you like seeing it on me, I can let you—”

“Let me lick you clean?”

Kaveh replies with a gasped oh gods.

“Hm, is that a yes?” Alhaitham says, but Kaveh only gives a vague, dazed shake of his head, so Alhaitham shelves the idea for now. “So, you’ve been thinking a lot about my co*ck, Kaveh?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Kaveh shifts his hips, trying in vain to move closer to Alhaitham’s co*ck. “f*cked myself and thought of y—of your co*ck—but not since you told me to wait, I did, I did what you told me to, I was—I was good—”

“I know you were,” Alhaitham says, trying not to sound stunned. He’d been prepared to pester Kaveh into saying one or two polite things, but he hadn’t expected Kaveh to speak this eagerly. It’s a complete pivot away from his attitude a few minutes ago.

“I’ve literally dreamed about it,” Kaveh continues, “so please f*ck me already, I want your co*ck, I want your co*ck, Alhaitham, not just anyone’s, I—f*ck, I don’t just like your co*ck, I love it, so please give me your damn co*ck, please—”

“Perfect,” Alhaitham says, and eases his co*ck into Kaveh.

Kaveh lets out a high-pitched moan and throws his head back, fingers scrabbling at the sheets beneath him. And the tight heat on its own is overwhelming, but the sound of that cry is nearly Alhaitham’s undoing. He pauses for a moment to catch his breath, shaking from the strain of holding back.

How is he going to last long enough for this? His co*ck isn’t even halfway inside Kaveh, and he already feels like he’s about to come.

“That was perfect, Kaveh,” Alhaitham repeats, voice strained. “Even better than I hoped for. I could listen to you beg like that for hours.”

Kaveh’s startled eyes land on him, and he squeezes them shut, face red. “I…”

“You’re pretty when you beg.” Alhaitham slowly presses his co*ck in the rest of the way, drawing a string of gasps and whines from Kaveh. “You’re always pretty, of course, but I like hearing you.”

Kaveh shakes his head with a skeptical hum.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Alhaitham says. “You said before that my voice turns you on. It shouldn’t be surprising that the reverse is true.” He rocks his hips slightly, bringing them flush against Kaveh’s ass. “There, I’m all the way in. How does that feel?”

“Oh.” Kaveh moans shakily, a blissed-out look on his face. “Oh, gods, you’re so—” He lets out a whiny f*ck, his voice pitching high again. “Finally, f*ck, so good, feels so…”

“Full?” Alhaitham murmurs, as he tries not to think about the fact that he’s inside Kaveh, squeezed tight by the warmth connecting their bodies. “Mm. You feel good, too.”

Kaveh whines, his mouth going lax. His eyes flutter open to peer up at Alhaitham, hazy and half-lidded—and Alhaitham nearly comes from that look alone.

sh*t. He’s at a complete disadvantage. How can he avoid coming too soon when Kaveh is lying under him looking like this? When Kaveh keeps making those sounds, and has his legs wrapped so tightly around Alhaitham’s waist, and feels even tighter around his co*ck?

“Do you need a moment,” Alhaitham asks, “or—”

“No!” There’s a surprising fire blazing in Kaveh’s eyes, as if he’s about to flip their positions and ride Alhaitham into unconsciousness. “No, don’t—I’ll go insane if I wait any longer, please move, f*ck me, please…”

Alhaitham carefully rocks his hips back, then pushes his co*ck forward with a groan. He’d thought that the slower movement would make things easier for himself, but that’s not the case at all—the slow, slick drag is maddening, making him too aware that it’s Kaveh he’s feeling around his co*ck.

“Oh, gods,” Kaveh gasps. “You’re so big—mm, so big, f*ck…”

Alhaitham’s cheeks burn. He knows that he’s decently endowed, statistically speaking, but he wouldn’t say he’s large enough to warrant invoking any gods. “Am I really that big,” he says, “or have you just gone too long without a co*ck inside you?”

“No—I mean, yes—no—” A tremor goes through Kaveh. “Been so long—you’re so big—so thick, oh, there, right there—”

Alhaitham grinds against that spot, and Kaveh’s satisfied moan temporarily makes his mind go blank. Alhaitham is the reason for that. He’s f*cking into Kaveh, pulling those sounds from his lips, giving him pleasure he’s been deprived of for months.

“Faster,” Kaveh says, “move faster—”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham chides, softly. “Remember who’s in charge.”

To his surprise, Kaveh nods in agreement. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I just…it’s so…”

“Hm.” Alhaitham brushes a stray piece of hair from Kaveh’s face and smooths his thumb over the jut of a cheekbone. “Would you like me to go faster, Kaveh?”

Kaveh nods again, frantically this time. “Please, yes—faster, please—”

Alhaitham digs his nails into Kaveh’s thighs and snaps his hips forward, jostling Kaveh against the bed. Each quick thrust sends a jolt of heat through him, and he grits his teeth, determined to hold back until Kaveh is nearing his own peak.

It feels impossible, though, with Kaveh sprawled beneath him in his bed, taking his co*ck, breathing his name.

“D-deeper,” Kaveh gasps. “Could you…could you do deeper thrusts, please, I…want to feel you—the whole way, f*ck me hard, please…”

And despite the pretense that Alhaitham is in control, he could never refuse a request from that mouth—so he pulls his hips back further and slams back in, doing his best to maintain the same pace.

Kaveh curses. “Yes—thank you, yes, just like that.” He suddenly grabs onto Alhaitham’s arms and whines, eyes falling shut as he tilts his head back. “Does—does it feel good for you, or—”

“Yes,” Alhaitham breathes. “Good. It’s good.”

Although his performance is far from flawless. Every so often, the deeper thrusts cause his co*ck to slip out entirely, and he fumbles to press back inside before the pause becomes apparent. If Kaveh notices the clumsiness, though, at least he doesn’t comment on it.

And judging by the way Kaveh’s head lolls to the side, mouth slack, eyes drifting shut, he very well might be too lost in pleasure to realize that Alhaitham is struggling with his aim.

Once again, Alhaitham is struck by the knowledge that he brought Kaveh to this state, and he groans, hips jerking unevenly. Keeping one hand at Kaveh’s thigh, he leans down and braces his other arm against the bed to control his thrusting.

Except his control over his climax is tenuous at best, and it’s even worse when Kaveh keeps…f*ck, Alhaitham doesn’t know what exactly he keeps doing. Any time Alhaitham pauses for more than a second, Kaveh clenches around him—and then when Alhaitham is moving, Kaveh occasionally seems to push down, altering the thrusts in a way that makes Alhaitham shudder and moan.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham gasps, bowing his head. “Could you—ngh—not…” Kaveh hums in confusion, and Alhaitham bites back a moan. “You keep…pushing, or…”

He slows his thrusts, and Kaveh’s eyes eventually focus on him. “I keep…?” He frowns, and then his lips form an oh. “Oh, does it not—I’m sorry, I thought it would feel good, based on—”

“It does,” Alhaitham groans. “It—it’s too good, Kaveh, I—I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” He closes his eyes, struggling to get his breathing under control. “I want you to come on my co*ck, so—”

Kaveh moans and bucks his hips, digging his nails into Alhaitham’s arms. “Yes,” he gasps, “I want that, I—I’ll do what you said, just—keep f*cking me, please.”

That settled, Alhaitham quickly finds his rhythm again—except apparently it doesn’t matter what Kaveh does or doesn’t do with his ass, because Alhaitham still feels like he’s about to be flung into an org*sm at any second.

How do other people do this? There’s no logical way to have Kaveh underneath him, saying those things, making those sounds, looking impeccably wrecked, and actually last. It’s not physically possible. It’s a complete fallacy. Alhaitham has been set up for failure.

He switches to slow, shallow thrusts, and Kaveh groans in protest, moving his hips urgently. “No, come on,” Kaveh pleads, “faster, please—”

Alhaitham cups his face and silences him with a kiss.

He sighs in relief at Kaveh’s lips; the mounting heat in his veins ebbs to a softer warmth, and he’s finally able to catch his breath for a few moments. Alhaitham distracts himself with the challenge of matching Kaveh’s kissing, carefully mirroring each press and suck of his mouth, lingering when he does, pausing to breathe with him.

Alhaitham gently rocks his hips forward and back as he does, and Kaveh’s arms loop around his neck, holding him close with a contented hum. Kaveh seems so relaxed right now, loose-limbed and willing—and Alhaitham feels a sudden need to see his face, while the two of them are still suspended in this moment.

He pulls back to look at Kaveh, and for a surreal second, his mind feels wiped clean, unable to recall where he is or how he got here. Kaveh’s eyes hold a softness like raw clay, beautiful and having yet to harden; fleetingly, it feels as if that gaze could be shaped back into the unguarded fondness from years ago, when Kaveh still trusted Alhaitham and was happy to be around him.

Back when Alhaitham easily assumed that the two of them would simply continue to be together, in some form or another—that it would only be natural for them to move into a house together once they both graduated, and that Alhaitham would indubitably continue to receive Kaveh’s attention and affection, because there was no other logical outcome.

Although, even during that time when he thought that Kaveh’s companionship was a given, Alhaitham had never expected to be in this position. Of all the times he’d admired Kaveh’s beauty or intelligence—his eyes gleaming in a garden long past midnight as he told Alhaitham of dreams and fears, his hair windswept by desert gusts as he smiled and pointed at ancient ruins—Alhaitham hadn’t thought that he would ever admire him this way, skin-to-skin with Kaveh’s legs locked around his waist, feeling Kaveh’s lips hum with moans as they kiss.

An old, abandoned desire surfaces in Alhaitham’s mind: to have Kaveh to himself the way he did back then.

He wants to stay here, where Kaveh’s needs are clear and he doesn’t question Alhaitham’s ability to meet them. For once, Kaveh has left his distrust at the door—he isn’t doubting Alhaitham’s intent, or twisting his words, or saying that nothing he does makes sense. Whatever Alhaitham offers, Kaveh readily accepts. Their relationship is simplified. Everything is suddenly easier.

Alhaitham stares down at Kaveh, with his soft hair fanned across the pillows, soft lips parted to kiss—and then something flashes in Kaveh’s eyes, like a flicker of lightning flaring in the night sky. “Wait,” Kaveh says. “You—I want—I need…” He grabs at Alhaitham’s hand, guiding it from his face down to his neck. “I need you to—I mean, could you please…”

He brings Alhaitham’s fingers to rest over his throat, and Alhaitham tenses. “Kaveh, I’m not prepared to—”

“I know,” Kaveh says. “Don’t squeeze. Just—just keep it there, please, I need something—I like how it…”

Oh. Alhaitham does like how that looks: Kaveh pinned to the sheets beneath him, head tilted back as he wears Alhaitham’s hand like a collar. His pulse beats rapidly under Alhaitham’s thumb, and Alhaitham’s fingers twitch involuntarily. “Is this something you’ve tried before?” he asks.

“No,” Kaveh murmurs. “Just with you.”

So no one else has done this.

Kaveh doesn’t want anyone else’s hand—doesn’t want anyone else’s co*ck—doesn’t want anyone else to control him this way. Alhaitham is the only person who’s ever seen Kaveh like this, taking a trembling breath with someone’s fingers wrapped around his throat.

Alhaitham sucks in a breath, jaw clenched as he tries to act unaffected. “I see,” he says. “I bought you that scarf, but all you really want to wear around your throat is my hand?”

Kaveh moans, his hips snapping upward. “Haitham.”

“No, wait,” Alhaitham says, stroking a finger beneath Kaveh’s jaw. “I misspoke. That’s not all—because you also like wearing my cum, don’t you, Kaveh?”

Kaveh’s answering whine nearly disintegrates the last bit of Alhaitham’s restraint. “Yes,” Kaveh breathes. “Yes, f*ck, yes.”

With his hand loosely encircling Kaveh’s throat, Alhaitham starts moving again, pausing between each thrust to forcefully snap his hips forward. He builds a steady rhythm—slowly dragging his co*ck back to make Kaveh moan, thrusting in so hard that the bed bounces—and keeps his eyes fixed on Kaveh’s face, watching for each flicker of pleasure in his features.

Somehow it feels even more intimate than kissing, to f*ck Kaveh so deliberately with a hand wrapped around his throat, looking him in the eyes as they both pant for breath. Alhaitham doesn’t have proper words for the feeling, except for—

“Too close,” Alhaitham gasps, his hips stuttering. “I can’t—any longer—”

“Please.” Kaveh’s hands clutch at Alhaitham’s arms again, nails dragging over his skin. “Fill me up—and tell me when you do, I want to know…”

That’s right—Alhaitham hadn’t felt much when Kaveh came inside him, not until the evidence was dripping out…but the idea of it, the knowledge that he took everything Kaveh had to offer, and took it well…

“f*ck,” Alhaitham breathes. He grabs at Kaveh’s waist with his free hand, squeezing tight as he finally surrenders. “Coming now, I’m—” His breath hitches, and he moans uncontrollably, co*ck twitching and spilling inside Kaveh. “Filling you up, you feel so good, Kaveh, f*ck, so full—”

And then he feels Kaveh spasm around his co*ck, a tight fluttering that milks Alhaitham dry and drains every last thought from his head.

Alhaitham gasps and buries his face against Kaveh’s neck, his hands falling to the sheets, fingers curled in the fabric. This isn’t something Alhaitham can get from f*cking his hand, and the unexpected feeling threatens to be too much. Especially with Kaveh’s quiet moans, and his trembling legs, and those nails digging into Alhaitham’s biceps so hard that it hurts—

Alhaitham’s next moan almost comes out like a sob, and a shudder runs through him at the sound. He jerks his hips in short thrusts, compelled by Kaveh’s breathless voice as it rambles a litany of praise: “Oh, gods, so good, Haitham, Haitham, f*ck—feels so good, thank you, oh, gods, Haitham…”

“Good,” Alhaitham gasps out. f*ck, he needs to touch Kaveh, needs his hands on him—so he reaches back and grabs Kaveh’s shaking thighs, and presses his lips to the sweat on his skin. “Good, Kaveh, you’re so good.”

For a while, he loses himself in those sounds, that taste, the feeling of Kaveh, just Kaveh; it’s everything, and too much, and yet it doesn’t stay in his grasp long enough. Eventually Kaveh sighs and goes limp beneath him, arms dropping to the bed, legs dangling in Alhaitham’s grip. Alhaitham hazily drags his lips up Kaveh’s jaw and deposits them on his mouth, resting there until Kaveh blearily kisses him.

Then Alhaitham props himself up and brushes Kaveh’s bangs out of his face to see him properly. He seems perfectly sated, with his eyes drifting shut, chest heaving for breath—but Alhaitham can’t know for sure unless Kaveh tells him.

“Are you alright?” Alhaitham murmurs.

Kaveh nods vaguely, sinking into the mattress with a hum.

“Do you need anything?” Alhaitham asks. “Water, or…?”

“Mm…pull out, first,” Kaveh says, pushing lightly against Alhaitham’s chest.

Oh—right.

Alhaitham eases his hips back, unable to resist watching as his co*ck pulls out of Kaveh. There’s a slight catch just before the tip is free, as if Kaveh is clamping down and refusing to let him go, and then Alhaitham is out, and…

“Look,” Kaveh mumbles, pulling his legs back and spreading them.

His hole flexes, and thick white leaks out, glistening around his rim to form an obscene trail. Kaveh reaches down with one hand and presses his fingers inside, scooping out more and smearing it along his thigh.

“How’s that?” Kaveh asks, gazing at Alhaitham with half-lidded eyes. “You like decorating me, I know…do you like…?”

Alhaitham feels light-headed. He should probably try breathing, except he isn’t sure he remembers how to.

He stares intently at the slick mess of Kaveh’s hole, an unmistakable sign that Alhaitham took him that way. And it would be stupidly animalistic, utterly illogical, to think of this as marking his territory—but that’s how it feels in this moment, to see evidence of himself dripping from inside Kaveh.

“M-maybe I should only wear a shirt, for the rest of the night,” Kaveh murmurs, “let you watch it drip out—”

“I can use my mouth,” Alhaitham blurts out. Kaveh’s eyes widen, and Alhaitham amends: “Do you want me to?”

“Uh—I—maybe another time.”

“Hm.” Alhaitham takes Kaveh’s wrist and drags it toward his mouth, then licks and sucks those fingers clean, keeping his eyes fixed on Kaveh’s as he does. “I’ll settle for this, then.”

Kaveh blinks, cheeks flushed crimson, and it strikes Alhaitham how unusual his demeanor is. When Kaveh mentioned Alhaitham’s affinity for decorating his skin just now, it wasn’t like that first time when Kaveh had complete control and teased Alhaitham for his preferences; instead, Kaveh was bashfully offering the idea, like a bird singing and showing off its feathers to impress a potential mate.

“And you’re right,” Alhaitham adds, his eyes sliding downward. “I do like that.”

Kaveh grunts. “I figured. I made a note of that before, that you might enjoy a sense of ownership.”

Alhaitham does remember that, now. He just hadn’t realized that Kaveh would be that attentive to his tastes—but, then again, it’s Kaveh. Alhaitham shouldn’t be surprised by his attention to detail. “Do you enjoy that sort of thing, too, or…”

“It depends,” Kaveh says, arching his back in a small stretch. “Just now, yes. But, mm…I want to lie here and rest for a bit.”

Which presents Alhaitham with the question: should he clean the two of them up right away, or stay and drowse with Kaveh first? Common sense indicates that their sticky skin will quickly get uncomfortable…and yet, Alhaitham doesn’t feel too inclined to get up and fix that, at the moment.

Humming in agreement, he rolls onto the bed and tugs Kaveh closer, guiding him to relax on his chest. Kaveh tenses for a brief moment, and then he slumps against Alhaitham without a word, his warm cheek pressed to Alhaitham’s skin. Alhaitham sinks back into the pillows and idly lets one of his hands wander up and down Kaveh’s back, toying with his hair and stroking his hip.

“Wait,” Kaveh mumbles. “I’m not forgetting about any card games with our friends, am I?”

“No,” Alhaitham says. “I made sure of that.”

“Mm. Good.”

Kaveh’s breathing gradually slows, each exhale soft and warm against Alhaitham’s skin, and Alhaitham finds himself lulled toward sleep by the steady pattern, basking in the comfort of Kaveh’s body against his—until he’s drifting half-awake and his hand settles on Kaveh’s hip, fingers moving in small circles.

Eventually Kaveh stirs, and Alhaitham jolts awake at the sudden movement. Groaning, Kaveh stretches his limbs and yawns, then shifts his weight so that he’s lying next to Alhaitham with a sliver of space between them.

“Feeling alright?” Alhaitham asks, and Kaveh gives a quiet mm hm. Alhaitham reaches down to brush his fingers over the hair on Kaveh’s upper thighs, just shy of the slickness left on his skin. “Including…?”

“Hm?” Kaveh’s gaze hazily follows the path of Alhaitham’s hand. “Oh. Yes. I wouldn’t have let you do that, if I didn’t want it.”

“Good,” Alhaitham says. “But you said it depends, earlier. I’m curious as to what you meant by that.”

“Ah.” Kaveh shrugs. “Well, I like the idea, in theory. And I’ve let people do it before…but in practice, it usually just ends up being annoying to clean up. So I tend to avoid it, but I’m not opposed if someone wants to.”

“I see. We don’t have to—”

“No, no.” Kaveh props himself up with an elbow against the cushions, just enough to meet Alhaitham’s eyes. “You—I actually enjoyed it this time, so I have no objections.”

“What was different this time?”

“You…” Kaveh sits up properly and pulls a knee to his chest, resting his chin on it as he thinks. “Hm. I suppose it’s just the fact that I wanted you to.”

Which is nowhere near an actual answer—but Alhaitham can’t be bothered to question it further. “I see.” He considers saying nothing else, then adds, “Thank you for using the safeword.”

“Oh.” Kaveh ducks his head. “I should be thanking you for making sure that I did.”

“Do you feel bad about it? It didn’t detract from my enjoyment at all, for the record. I felt better knowing that your concerns were addressed.”

“I feel fine,” Kaveh says. “Surprisingly. You…had a point, when you said that this sort of thing isn’t entirely preventable. I’m still not thrilled about that fact, but this made it a bit easier to accept.” He brushes a piece of hair out of his face, only for it to flop back without a clip to secure it. “And, um, I enjoyed myself, too.”

“Good.” Now, though, thinking back, Alhaitham isn’t sure he’s entirely satisfied with that discussion. He keeps remembering Kaveh’s wide-eyed, frantic plea: I don’t know what you actually want—I can’t tell what you’re thinking, or whether you’re serious. “But, Kaveh…”

“Hm?” Kaveh turns to face him, bright-eyed and relaxed; he looks as if he’s ready to start casually sketching designs or cooking dinner, even though he’s naked with bruises sucked onto his throat and sem*n seeping out of his ass. “What is it?”

“Are there other times when you’ve felt distressed because I wasn’t communicating clearly enough? Or because you weren’t sure what I really meant?”

Alhaitham braces himself for Kaveh to shrink away, but Kaveh merely squints at him as if the question doesn’t make sense. “I mean, we haven’t done this many times, so I’d say that’s the first—”

“I meant outside of sex.”

And there it is: Kaveh’s expression tightens, and his body goes rigid. “Oh. I…” He swallows and glances away, loosely curling a hand in the sheets.

“I think the answer must be yes,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh’s hand clenches into a tight fist, and Alhaitham tentatively rests his palm over it, giving a light squeeze. “Yes,” Kaveh murmurs. “But I didn’t see a reason to mention it.”

And that’s strange, for someone who often counsels that it’s unwise to ignore conflicts with others. Why would Kaveh stay silent on an issue that constantly leads to bickering and misunderstandings, when he could have just said something? Wouldn’t avoiding incessant conflicts with a roommate be reason enough to confront that sort of problem?

He did speak up this time—but maybe that’s only because he and Alhaitham had a preestablished agreement. In the absence of that agreement, Kaveh apparently considers it a lost cause to open his mouth and ask for help.

What would Alhaitham have done, if Kaveh had bothered to ask?

Alhaitham has always disliked modifying his communication style to suit others, and he pointedly avoids trying to solve Kaveh’s problems for him. So, if he felt that Kaveh’s incomprehension was self-inflicted, or that Kaveh was demanding that Alhaitham change his way of doing things to suit Kaveh’s preferences…in all likelihood, Alhaitham would have dug his heels in and refused to budge.

Well. That’s probably why Kaveh didn’t mention it, then.

“I see,” Alhaitham says. And after months of bickering, it would be foolish of him to think that a simple offer could make a real difference—but he hates that stuck-in-sand feeling, and the cornered look of pain in Kaveh’s eyes when neither of them understands what the other wants. He should at least offer to test out a solution, and not preemptively dismiss the possibility. “If you ever felt that distressed outside the bedroom,” he says, stiltedly, “you could mention it to me.”

The confused look in Kaveh’s eyes doesn’t seem promising. “And…what?” Kaveh asks. “If I mentioned it, then what?”

“Then we talk,” Alhaitham says. “Like we did earlier, when I stopped and asked what you needed me to do.”

“But…” Kaveh glances down at their overlapping hands. “That’s…I mean…”

“It’s reliant on your willingness to tell me that you feel that way, when you normally prefer to keep things to yourself. But if you honestly tell me, I’ll honestly make an effort to address your concerns.”

Alhaitham waits for Kaveh to complain that he’s turning the art of conversation into a clinical exchange of information, or something along those lines. Kaveh stays silent, though, for so long that Alhaitham starts preparing to label this suggestion a failure—except then Kaveh looks up at him with an awed gleam in his eyes.

And suddenly Alhaitham feels years younger, sitting on the floor of an ancient hall, his chest fluttering like a flickering torch as he admits, I’d still want you.

“I…” For a moment, Kaveh’s gaze seems to flit between Alhaitham’s lips and his eyes. “I’ll consider that. You…um, thank you.”

Alhaitham simply nods, his mind far away elsewhere.

A short while later, Kaveh wanders off to the bathroom to clean himself up, leaving Alhaitham to lounge in bed—but barely a minute has passed when Alhaitham hears an outraged shout from down the hall, prompting him to reluctantly roll out of bed and check that Kaveh is alright.

When Alhaitham pokes his head inside the bathroom doorway, he finds Kaveh standing at the mirror, head craned to inspect a few dark splotches on his neck. Instantly, Kaveh’s eyes meet his in the reflection, blazing with annoyance. “You!” he squawks.

“Me,” Alhaitham says, leaning against the doorframe. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I told you these were too high!” Kaveh says, jabbing a finger toward one of the bruises. “How am I supposed to cover these? I look like a libidinous teenager! My clients will think I have no decorum!”

“Use makeup,” Alhaitham says with a shrug. “Or wear a scarf. I’m sure the light of Kshahrewar is capable of coming up with plenty of workable solutions.” Kaveh’s cheeks puff in frustration, and Alhaitham can’t resist wandering closer with a smirk. “Or…” He presses against Kaveh’s back and snakes an arm around his front, cradling his throat with loose fingers and stroking his jaw with a thumb. “We could just walk around with my hand like this, since you like that so much.”

He meets Kaveh’s eyes in the mirror, and Kaveh’s hips jerk slightly. “I—you—oh, go on and laugh now, but I’ll figure out what makes you flustered like this! And I won’t show any mercy once I do. You’ll regret teasing me, I swear it.”

“Good luck with that,” Alhaitham says, stepping back. His eyes linger on Kaveh’s exposed throat, and he feels strangely satisfied by the smattering of marks. “Although I’m surprised you don’t already have some idea, given how observant you are.”

“What? What do you…I mean, you clearly like having my dick in your mouth, but you’re quite shameless about that, so it’s not really something I can use against you…”

“Hm. You’d better keep thinking, then.” Alhaitham ambles out the door, then pauses to catch Kaveh’s eye in the mirror again. “But don’t worry, Kaveh. I’m sure you’ll do such a good job of figuring it out.”

“Wh—why did you say it like that?” Kaveh asks, but Alhaitham has already rounded the corner and started down the hall. “Is that supposed to be a reference to something? Alhaitham!”

Snorting to himself, Alhaitham wonders if another expensive scarf will suffice to make Kaveh forget his irritation over those unfortunate hickeys.