Only each of them is allowed to talk about their grievances of the other. Alhaitham had realized this before when he was about to walk around the curve of the central pillar of the House of Daena to find Kaveh about to rip some other scholar's eyes out for referring to a rumour about something along the lines of Alhaitham's 'preferential treatment' amongst the Sages. Such a ludicrous thing has not even worth paying attention to, and yet, Kaveh, the Light of the Kshahrewar, not a penny to his name, making a ruckus about how Alhaitham, of all people, had no connections to anyone to place him at an advantageous position in the Akademiya. Even Alhaitham's own criticism of the Architect was not without its tone of fondness, of acceptance, in a way.
Acceptance which would be welcome now, when Kaveh's fingers dig into his muscles, and all he can think is how good they feel. His head cants low, down with a groan and a hiss at how they feel on the back of his neck, sending swirls of pleasurable ache to the back of his fluttering closed eyes and loosening his jaw. "Ah, so telling someone to relax—actually helps the other person do it, now?"
“Yes, it does,” he replied as a stern thumb glides down the crook of his neck. He uses both hands to gently squeeze it, hoping to reap the stress that has been accumulating in bed for ages now.
All the hammering and work comes in handy when it comes to this. Delicate as he seems, his grip and precision is surgical. His care is boundless. Listening to Alhaitham groan like this puts a smile on his face— good thing he can’t see it.
Fingertips steadily work around the large scar, tracing the vivid pinkness of it. He’s a lot more gentle now as he caresses down every bone on his spine and over every knotted muscle. “You have to consciously hear someone tell you. Then your brain clicks into action.”
After a few minutes of that and watching the back of his head hang in delight, he begins to wonder if it’s enough to stop here. His hands slide carefully down his sides and over his thighs. He rests his chin on his shoulder so he can look down.
"So why do you say it doesn't when I—" a clear of his throat. Those fingers really do wonders. Alhaitham does entertain himself often just observing how Kaveh uses his hands on a daily basis, snapping his fingers, running them in his hair, splaying them when pressing rolls of floorplans down, holding a glass, but the way they feel is just an added bonus to an already presence and (not-so-)subtle fixation. "When I tell you to relax?"
Of course, they're going to argue, even when the Scribe is being handled like Kaveh is trying to test the give of clay, and he does give, does allow himself to be molded to the architect's content.
His stomach clenches instinctively when those hands glide over the sensitive skin of his sides. He can feel Kaveh being happy about the result, and yet, as he presses close behind him and those fingers venture further than his hips, he takes a deep breath.
Anyone would consider that they should probably be embarrassed, with how easy he is being. And yet, that doesn't even cross Alhaitham's mind. Not when he knows what he wants and needs so well, not when he can lean his head against Kaveh's and he settles back against him in full deliverance. "If I ever do, I will."
Deep inside, he's the pathetic one. Still having to live under Alhaitham's roof without a way to stand firm on his decisions. He puts all the energy into making his projects have the best foundations and yet he's the one crumbling on his feet. "I don't want to argue," he mumbles as Alhaitham leans against him like butter. Kaveh normally braces himself for rejection despite all the positive reception from him. After everything, he can't say he would blame him if he were to say no and permanently leave another scar in his heart.
If he will lose him tomorrow, then he better touch him all he can today.
His fingers sprawl widely over the muscles of his thighs before pulling back on his hips, then sliding over his abdomen. He's still chiseled, this perfect human. He's not brave enough to leave kisses on his neck, he doesn't want to rile him up so much to the point of putting his safety at risk. At least they're sitting down, so it's not like they can slip and fall this way.
And like this, Kaveh is in control. He fully intends on walking out of this still wearing his pants. He ventures closer to the middle, pressing thumbs around his cock and letting his fingers naturally around his balls so he can spread his legs a little more. He massages down the brackets of his inner thighs, tactfully avoiding his sack so he can spread the leftover oil on his hands around it. "C-Close your eyes if you haven't already."
Kaveh's admission about not wanting to argue blares a warning sign in his head, and Alhaitham turns his head just enough to look at the architect's profile from this angle. That makes his breath hitch, his heart thrum with something dangerous underneath his ribcage. There's something to it.
"You don't?" He asks, the angle making it so it's right into Kaveh's ear, his voice already wrecked. Legs parting wider out of mere instinct, out of acceptance and reception, out of want, and Alhaitham has to suck in a breath between his teeth not to roll and shift his hips into Kaveh's touch more fully. It's perfectly normal to be this affected when someone is touching you like this, Alhaitham reasons. It doesn't matter if his erection is slowly filling out, the only courteous thing to do is to ignore it as a natural reaction to stimuli. Instead, he does comply, closes his eyes, and lets his head lul further into Kaveh's, breathing heat into his hair when the kneading of his inner thighs sends a jolt across his core. "I thought you'd want me to see your handiwork," he whispers.
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Acceptance which would be welcome now, when Kaveh's fingers dig into his muscles, and all he can think is how good they feel. His head cants low, down with a groan and a hiss at how they feel on the back of his neck, sending swirls of pleasurable ache to the back of his fluttering closed eyes and loosening his jaw. "Ah, so telling someone to relax—actually helps the other person do it, now?"
no subject
All the hammering and work comes in handy when it comes to this. Delicate as he seems, his grip and precision is surgical. His care is boundless.
Listening to Alhaitham groan like this puts a smile on his face— good thing he can’t see it.
Fingertips steadily work around the large scar, tracing the vivid pinkness of it. He’s a lot more gentle now as he caresses down every bone on his spine and over every knotted muscle. “You have to consciously hear someone tell you. Then your brain clicks into action.”
After a few minutes of that and watching the back of his head hang in delight, he begins to wonder if it’s enough to stop here. His hands slide carefully down his sides and over his thighs. He rests his chin on his shoulder so he can look down.
“If you want me to stop just say so.”
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Of course, they're going to argue, even when the Scribe is being handled like Kaveh is trying to test the give of clay, and he does give, does allow himself to be molded to the architect's content.
His stomach clenches instinctively when those hands glide over the sensitive skin of his sides. He can feel Kaveh being happy about the result, and yet, as he presses close behind him and those fingers venture further than his hips, he takes a deep breath.
Anyone would consider that they should probably be embarrassed, with how easy he is being. And yet, that doesn't even cross Alhaitham's mind. Not when he knows what he wants and needs so well, not when he can lean his head against Kaveh's and he settles back against him in full deliverance. "If I ever do, I will."
no subject
If he will lose him tomorrow, then he better touch him all he can today.
His fingers sprawl widely over the muscles of his thighs before pulling back on his hips, then sliding over his abdomen. He's still chiseled, this perfect human. He's not brave enough to leave kisses on his neck, he doesn't want to rile him up so much to the point of putting his safety at risk. At least they're sitting down, so it's not like they can slip and fall this way.
And like this, Kaveh is in control. He fully intends on walking out of this still wearing his pants. He ventures closer to the middle, pressing thumbs around his cock and letting his fingers naturally around his balls so he can spread his legs a little more. He massages down the brackets of his inner thighs, tactfully avoiding his sack so he can spread the leftover oil on his hands around it. "C-Close your eyes if you haven't already."
no subject
"You don't?" He asks, the angle making it so it's right into Kaveh's ear, his voice already wrecked. Legs parting wider out of mere instinct, out of acceptance and reception, out of want, and Alhaitham has to suck in a breath between his teeth not to roll and shift his hips into Kaveh's touch more fully. It's perfectly normal to be this affected when someone is touching you like this, Alhaitham reasons. It doesn't matter if his erection is slowly filling out, the only courteous thing to do is to ignore it as a natural reaction to stimuli. Instead, he does comply, closes his eyes, and lets his head lul further into Kaveh's, breathing heat into his hair when the kneading of his inner thighs sends a jolt across his core. "I thought you'd want me to see your handiwork," he whispers.
no subject