Night breathes its wispy breath over the world, cooling off the earth from the sun's scorching beams. A breeze pulls open threaded curtains, revealing the sight of the pale full moon, illuminating all that the candle on the coffee table can’t reach. A faint clinking comes from the kitchen while Kaveh searches for a glass in one of the hanging cupboards. A vague thirst had woken him from sleep, forcing him to stumble out of his room to search for water.
After he blows out the candle, deeming it unnecessary, he now makes himself comfortable on a divan in the living room, sipping his luke-warm water as his mind starts to slowly unclog from the haze of sleep.
He can’t help but feel irritated. Judging by the moon, it hasn’t been that long since he did fall asleep, at most a couple of hours has passed. A new project- intricate and imprudently showy- has been keeping him up these past few nights. A small collection of browned mugs has been collecting on his desk, and a permanent smell of coffee now wafts out of his room every time he opens the door for calls of nature and the like.
Mind hazy, he thinks over the newest rendition of the design, unable to keep his mind off of it now that he’s awake. Kaveh can feel the oncoming headache already- just imagining prototyping this nightmare is sparking stars behind his eyelids.
He groans, and jolts, his voice too loud and grouchy for his sensitive ears right now. Great, now he’s even more awake. He can feel sleep slipping from his mind like a river through a faulty dam. His insomnia always flares up in the worst moments- he can never catch a break, can he?
Kaveh lays back and stares at the ceiling. He balances his mug on his stomach and breathes lightly, as to not spill it. The shapes of light above shrink and expand with every flutter of the curtains, and the faint whistle of wind makes Kaveh think about tomorrow's weather.
Will it be sunny, like today? Kaveh quite likes the sun- though, not when it’s overbearing. It makes him feel happier about waking up in the mornings, even if he isn’t the best with heat, and it keeps his mood up most days. But sometimes, influenced by the tropical nature of his beloved nation, the sun will be too warm, and give him a headache. Sometimes it’s one of those days where he flinches every time he tries to smooth his hair, and those are days Alhaitham switches out his black undershirt to something lighter. It’s always something gray- it is like the only color the man owns is green.
Kaveh’s head falls to the direction of Alhaitham’s bedroom door- shut tight and quiet. It’s lacquered- glossy Karmaphala wood with bold indents, and a light golden handle. The green and yellow mosaic around the frame gives off flashes of color, dancing on the walls, flickering over Kaveh’s eyes.
If he squints, if he lets his mind wander, he could even imagine looking into those familiar green and red irises, into such vivid fields of roses and leaves that the want floats up- like flowers, like delicate petals. They drift across the delicate lake of his mind and settle deep, yearning, wishing for something. Something more.
The quietness of the night consumes his thoughts. He can’t seem to think, but at the same time he spirals deeper into something so overwhelming that it gets hard to breathe.
He can’t wait any longer. He won’t sit here wishing, hoping that the door could open, that the object of his desires will walk into his arms, into his space, and smother him with his scent.
The phantom touch of Kaveh’s own fingers across his skin isn’t enough- his hand is too familiar, he needs something new. Something verdant, stronger. Like a drop of liquor, like a shot of whiskey- all it takes is a small taste to want more, and oh, does Kaveh want more.
Just as Kaveh is about to retreat to his bedroom and cover the sheets in his solitude, the door opens. Slowly, deliberately, it squeaks open, and if Kaveh were a less patient man, it would have flown off its hinges.
Alhaitham emerges. The reflections of glass glint off his person and he stands there, bathed in moonlight. Kaveh can’t help the way his mouth waters.
The man is dressed down, a thin top and pants, though not frazzled like Kaveh is after he wakes up. Alhaitham is wide awake, not a hint of a sleepy glaze over his eyes. Had he been sleeping? Kaveh doubts it, though it would go against Alhaitham’s nature to have been up at such ungodly hours.
Alhaitham walks towards the divans, approaching Kaveh with long, though slow strides. Kaveh says nothing even as he stands before him, his expression complicated, not a word leaving his mouth.
Kaveh knows what he wants to say. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this.
When the moon is high enough, when the stress of a workday is too much, they find each other. Somehow, like they rehearse this, they wake to find the other- seek out their presence, their touch.
It’s an improvisation each time- finding the buttons to press, the switches to flick. And now, Kaveh waits for Alhaitham to move. A string of a hint, something to hold onto and pull.
He seems to be thinking, his eyes flitting across Kaveh’s face like they don’t know where to settle. Kaveh tilts his head in response, fingers twitching where they’re gripping the couch covers. Alhaitham does not know how to start. His face pinches the longer he stands still, itching to move forward but hesitant to do so.
Kaveh blinks slowly and brings his hand up, gently touching Alhaitham’s knuckle. He flinches momentarily, but he clasps Kaveh’s hand in his the very next second.
It’s as if the dam has broken as Alhaitham moves once again. His hand finds Kaveh’s jaw and his lips find him too. Kaveh gasps out a sound of surprise, but recovers quickly so he can grip his desire closer.
The push, the pull, the touch gets them closer. Legs spread, hands wander, fabric wrinkles and stretches with every breath. Alhaitham’s tongue is hot in Kaveh’s mouth, and his co*ck is hotter through the flimsy sleepwear they both dress in. He leans against his hand on the divan, settling deeper into the seat as Alhaitham crawls over him determinately.
“Haitham, “ Kaveh can’t help whispering during the loose moment where they aren’t tasting eachother’s air, but he gets no reply. Alhaitham only grunts as his lips trail lower, leaving a hot stripe of saliva in its wake.
He doesn’t try again and doesn’t think to, because Alhaitham’s tongue is too hot on his skin, and the blood rushing south keeps his mind on the wet sensation. He allows himself to feel it, indulge in the cold chill of air on his dewy skin. Alhaitham pushes his hand underneath the opening at his collar and gropes his chest, the button popping from the stretch almost willingly, just as Kaveh melts beneath the green dream above him.
Kaveh moves too- he lifts his hands and gently touches the strands of hair on Alhaitham’s head. The man pauses for a moment, though his hands still keep moving under Kaveh’s shirt, and he waits for further touch. Kaveh complies and reaches lower, stroking behind his ears and smiling at the soft breath that gets him.
As Alhaitham continues to slowly stroke Kaveh, the blond caresses down his face. He traces his jaw and tugs at his ears, rubs the pads of his fingers at his temples. Alhaitham leans into the touch, his lips gently kissing Kaveh’s stomach while he’s stopped moving his hands. Kaveh takes his time, tracing the soft lines of his profile, his angles and imperfections.
They tend to get carried away in these moments, the dark nights, and they tend to rush. They chase the end of their engagement without even realizing it’s there, and are stumped after the finale plays. It was easier before, to go back into the sunlight and put on their faces and frowns, but now…
Now Kaveh takes his time far more than he’d deem necessary. He’s mapped this face out hundreds of times, and yet he does it again and again- as if he can’t remember it each time he wakes up. Alhaitham’s face is a sculpture. Kaveh can’t help but marvel at it again and again- the roughest painting, the smoothest marble. Everything and more, and Kaveh faintly wonders how it is that he gets to hold this in his hands.
Alhaitham is less patient when he presses his hips down.
Kaveh does not hold back his gasp when the pressure returns stronger. His hands slip from Alhaitham’s face and he grips onto his strong, broad shoulders. The muscles shift under his fingertips when the man crawls forward, attaching his mouth to Kaveh’s clavicle and grinds down again, again, again.
Alhaitham grunts and huffs while Kaveh falls back, hugging him close as they rut against each other desperately. Kaveh feels the rough slide of his co*ck below his thin sleepwear as it grinds against Alhaitham’s, pushing and pulling, again and again. It’s hot in his belly, and their breaths get heavier with every passing minute. Kaveh squirms and grinds up, heels dug into the divan in a hope for finding purchase between Alhaitham’s hard thrusts.
“Hai-Haiyi, mmnh, “ Kaveh gasps, pulling on Alhaitham’s hair to try and get his attention, but to no avail, as the man is lost, buried in the warm hollow of Kaveh’s throat.
No words are uttered as they get more frantic, as the tip of Alhaitham’s co*ck slips out of the hem of his pants and rubs wet pre over Kaveh’s exposed stomach. Kaveh’s breath hitches and he reaches down, pulling his pants down while he has the chance and oh, yes.
Skin on skin, slick erections rubbing together, and the sound Alhaitham makes at the sensation rings in Kaveh’s ears. Whiny and gone, and Kaveh doesn’t even get to realize that he’s spilling over himself.
And suddenly it’s so much, and it explodes like fireworks over his nerves. His toes curl and he coils around Alhaitham tighter than skin, and he must do something right, because Alhaitham breathes a surprised gasp and shudders in Kaveh’s hold, barely holding himself up on his elbows and knees before he collapses into Kaveh with a choked out sigh.
The moon hasn’t moved by much, and the small breeze from before still blows through the open window and into their stuffy home, airing out the smell of sex and sweat into the Sumerian streets. Neither of them have moved, though Kaveh idly plays with the hair at the back of Alhaitham’s neck, ignoring the growing stickiness between them and letting each other catch their breath.
Kaveh hopes this doesn’t end, whatever it is. It’s secret, it’s tender, and it’s more than he could ever wish for. Having Alhaitham- his sweet, sweet dream like this, in his arms, breathing soundly and content.
He doesn’t want much in life, though he wishes to keep what he has. For whatever Archon that may listen in on his late midnight prayers, he wishes that nothing will change. It’s safer this way, the two of them just existing. It’s enough for him.
Alhaitham shifts, rubbing his cheek against Kaveh’s chest tiredly. They don’t speak when they both get up, helping each other get to the bathroom and wash up, gliding soft towels in the dark because neither of them wants to turn on the light. Alhaitham brushes his fingers through Kaveh’s hair, and Kaveh puts a Nilotpala Lotus cream on Alhaitham’s face, rubbing it in soothing circles, between Alhaitham’s furrowed brow, over his temples to gently massage the tension out of them. They do not utter a word when Alhaitham leads them to their respective bedroom doors and caresses Kaveh’s cheek gently before retreating through his Karmaphala door and shutting it behind him, leaving Kaveh to gaze at it with a pang of longing, wishing to peek through the cracks and see if Alhaitham may be waiting, could possibly leave a space open next to him on the bed, a place for Kaveh.
But he can’t see such things, and he doesn’t want to overstep. He retreats into his own room and shuts the door quietly, the green mosaic reflecting the light of the moon.
