Work Text:
These curtains are hideous.
Even Alhaitham —despite suffering from what a certain someone calls a ‘critical lack of appreciation for beauty’— knows as much.
First, the motif makes no sense. The cloth is streaked with eclectic waves, its colors grossly sewn together, the lines merging in confusing chaos. Alhaitham spent at least five minutes trying to decipher the pattern and his efforts were rewarded with a headache.
Secondly, the fabric doesn’t feel very pleasant to the touch. It’s rough and already pilling, contorting the wobbly design even more.
Third, the color choices are… interesting, to say the least. A shade of vivid pink so overwhelming it could pollute the eyesight of anyone within a 10-meter radius. Upon closer inspection, multiple colors are stitched together throughout the textile, clashing, fighting to overpower each other. The pink wins by a landslide.
Alhaitham could search the entirety of Teyvat and would not find a single piece of furniture to match this horror of a curtain. It’s a wonder they ever made their way into a shop’s inventory.
These reasons are why they’re a perfect buy. If Alhaitham finds them offensive, then Kaveh is bound to scream in terror at the mere sight of them.
Its been a while since they’ve last bickered.
It’s not like Alhaitham is asking for it. He has no complaints about how their relationship has mellowed down, with tenderness slipping unabashedly into playful teasing. Despite softening through the years, they still engage in challenging debates, redefining each other’s world little by little. They still argue, and if the volume dials up, it’s no longer rooted in annoyance. Mutual care slides through in each spike they throw.
So, yes, living with Kaveh has been peaceful lately.
A bit too peaceful. Ever since the architect started working on a new project—for a certain Mr. Yusuff in Port Ormos, Alhaitham barely sees his boyfriend anymore. When he’s not away on business trips, Kaveh shuts himself in the study, only coming out to scavenge for coffee.
Alhaitham carefully monitors from the couch when he can, often witnessing the architect drag himself out of his den every few hours. Each time, he tries his best to not let his eyes linger on the frighteningly pale skin, the dark circles painted on his face, and the tears pearling at the corners of a dimmed red gaze.
It's far from the first time that Alhaitham has seen Kaveh in such a sorry state. That doesn’t mean it gets easier with time.
His younger self wasn’t patient enough, wasn’t strong enough to bear the sight, and brashly tried to force Kaveh into taking care of himself. It didn’t go well. The architect’s frantic passion is layered with years of conflicting experiences and struggles. It’s not as simple as ripping a bandage off, especially when Kaveh fights against it.
So, no matter how worried he gets, Alhaitham can’t interfere.
In these situations, he can only observe quietly from the sidelines, waiting for Kaveh to finally lose his focus. He makes his move when small opportunities arise, helping the fool of an architect unwind as much as possible between never ending drafts.
Its been two weeks since Alhaitham started his mission of ‘subtly helping Kaveh relax without him noticing.’ It hasn’t been very successful so far. He’s tried everything: massages, scented candles, infusions before bed, verbal affirmations, cuddling… Kaveh barely thanks him, barely looks at him before locking himself into the study for nights and days on end.
Hence why he’s reached his last resort: taunting Kaveh into a bickering session. It will at least help evacuate some frustration.
“Thank you for your patronage!” Honestly, the bewildered look Alhaitham gets from the vendor is hilarious.
Well, no matter. The curtains are now his weapon to get a certain overworked architect to relax. (And forget about a certain Mr. Yusuff for a bit.)
———
They’re even worse after a wash.
Soap caused the ink to bleed, mixing into a dirtier, duller pink, the wavy motif turning unrecognizable. Hung just above the desk in their study, it clashes horribly with the green and brown tones of the room. Alhaitham thinks he has probably insulted some divine fashion entity somewhere in Fontaine.
A malicious grin slides onto his lips. Perfect. This is absolutely guaranteed to make Kaveh lose it.
He throws a glance at the clock standing in the middle of their bookshelves, the minute hand scornfully pointing at nine. His boyfriend should be home in fifteen minutes.
After a few seconds of pacing in the living room, he ultimately decides to wait in his bedroom, a book in hand. The calmer he appears, the more likely it is that Kaveh will take his frustration out on him.
He’s almost asking for the situation to get out of hand. The two weeks of crossing each other in indifference seemed never ending, he desperately wants it to stop. If he hears one more complaint about the Yusuff project, Alhaitham is going to lose it. But it’s fine. Tonight’s program is about them, bickering, and curtains. He’s already imagining Kaveh’s scorching gaze, annoyed, tired, and frustrated.
Maybe he’ll grab Alhaitham by the collar, and push him against a wall or on the bed. Maybe his voice will raise until it’s too much for the scribe’s sensitive ears, his face getting closer until Alhaitham’s nose only registers his scent, until he feels the heat of his skin, his breath on his lips, until all his senses are overwhelmed by Kaveh.
Laying on the bed, Alhaitham absentmindedly traces a finger against his lips before realizing where this train of thought is going.
He will admit it’s been a while since they had really good sex. That’s not the problem he’s trying to address right now, though.
What’s more, Kaveh probably isn’t into that kind of overpowering role. He has always been patient and careful in bed. Surely, the kind-hearted, romantic architect—no matter how frustrated— wouldn’t be interested in treating Alhaitham so roughly. Or pinning him against the bed. Or selfishly kissing the lights out of him. Or taking his fill of his body, fingers running along hot skin, chasing hitching breath, relentlessly playful until Alhaitham breaks and can’t even put two words together.
… Not that he would be against it.
But no. No, this isn’t part of his plan. He only wants to verbally taunt the frustration out of Kaveh.
The entrance door opens and shuts soon after.
Alhaitham has barely read a sentence.
(Well. It’s not like he’s planning on reading all evening. So that’s fine. Not that he has any other plan in mind. None whatsoever.)
His attention stays focused on the noises Kaveh makes. A relieved sigh, the bristling of clothes, the usual rhythm of his footsteps after a long day… The routine of it all is strangely relaxing.
“Alhaitham? Where are you?”
Right. For the past few days the scribe has been lounging in the living room around this hour, the front door in sight, waiting for it to open.
While Alhaitham ponders if he should answer or not, Kaveh continues to make himself comfortable, moving through the house, the noise growing distant. As expected, his first reflex is to go to the study.
And as expected, a door opens, a few more footsteps resonate, then uncharacteristically stop.
Alhaitham doesn’t need anything else to know that Kaveh saw the curtains.
A pause. Then… “Alhaitham?”
His voice sounds annoyed already.
“Yes?” The footsteps pick up the pace as Kaveh makes his way towards the bedroom. When he finally sees the blonde’s face peek through the door, Alhaitham can’t help but smile at his cute frown. “Hi.”
Kaveh maintains silent eye contact, slightly suspicious. He sighs.
“Alhaitham. Why?” He finally asks, strangely calm. “What are those curtains doing in the study?”
He considers playing dumb for a bit but decides it’s unnecessary. Judging by Kaveh’s wary look, they both know where this is going.
“I bought them this afternoon at the Grand Bazaar,” he simply says, before throwing in the hook, “do you like them?”
… Line and sinker, the bait works wonders. Kaveh’s eyebrows firmly crease down.
“No. Terrible doesn’t even begin to describe them.” Oh, Alhaitham loves it when his chronic people-pleaser of a boyfriend becomes brutally honest with him. “Where are the old ones? I can’t work with those monstrosities hanging above the desk.”
Kaveh doesn’t raise his tone, cold and simmering. But the deepening wrinkles between his eyebrows betray rising annoyance. He is fighting against his instinct to shout, uncharacteristically trying to solve the situation with diplomacy, as if he doesn’t have the time to argue.
Not that Alhaitham doubts the urgency of his drafts, but are they so important that Kaveh can’t even spare a minute? He must admit, he admires the self-control. But a feeling of defeat starts brewing inside his chest. He didn’t think Kaveh would be invested in his project to the point of skipping out on nagging about interior design, to the point of brushing Alhaitham off completely. All for the project of some Mr. Yusuff, barely an acquaintance, barely anyone relevant in the scope of Kaveh’s life and career.
He sighs. Not good, he’s getting annoyed.
“Who knows?” Alhaitham responds, turning his gaze back to the book in front of him, trying to hide his discouragement. He can’t let Kaveh notice. That would absolutely not help an overthinker relax.
Fine. He’ll annoy him just a bit more. Just a bit more, then he’ll let him go back to work. He will just have to think of another strategy to help the hard-headed fool relax.
Kaveh huffs, stomping inside the room before snatching the book away from Alhaitham’s hands. He startles in response, expecting to be left alone. It’s not in the blond’s avoidant nature to press on an issue.
Despite his annoyance, Kaveh slips a finger between the pages, keeping it bookmarked, and Alhaitham feels his face soften. So considerate, even when he ignores me.
“Fine, what do you want?” Kaveh genuinely asks, almost worried. “Why are you picking a fight with me right now?”
Alhaitham smirks at his own foolishness. Kaveh has always been strangely perceptive, hasn’t he? Always noticing things he shouldn’t.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, reaching for another book.
“You—!” Kaveh lunges forward, grabbing Alhaitham’s wrist with his free hand, roughly pinning it against the bed.
Oh.
Suddenly flipped on his back, Alhaitham holds his breath. He stares straight into Kaveh’s ruby eyes, feeling the pressure of their fire. The grip against his wrist feels overwhelmingly warm, and his stomach twists with a strange sensation as he loses himself in the carmine gaze.
A weight is lifted off his chest, some part of his mind reveling under Kaveh’s pointed attention. He tries to ignore it. No. This isn’t about me right now.
Kaveh, sliding on top of Alhaitham, scans his boyfriend’s face in search of an explanation.
“Why are you riling me up like this?” his annoyed whisper slides against Alhaitham’s cheek, falling down the collar of his shirt, making him shiver.
Not good. Whatever this is, this wasn’t part of the plan. Alhaitham turns his head, fleeing the intense red stare and looking towards the books on his nightstand.
The one he had been reading just a minute ago stands on top of the pile, a bookmark tucked between the pages.
Wait. Wasn’t it in Kaveh’s hand just now…?
Before he can think any further, his chin is caught between two fingers, turning his gaze back toward Kaveh. “Hey,” another impatient whisper falls on his cheek. “Alhaitham, I’m talking to you here.”
Right. They were talking. What were they talking about again? Alhaitham can’t really think when feeling Kaveh’s breath brush against his lips, the heat of his body pinning him to the bed. What was the plan again?
A sigh. “I swear, you’re driving me crazy.”
Kaveh’s lips crash against his.
A shiver racks Alhaitham’s body, his toes curling when the kiss deepens, Kaveh’s tongue invading his mouth.
Soon after, their lips move together hungrily, catching breathes with frantic gasps. Alhaitham’s brain ceases to function for a while, lost in the desperation and intensity Kaveh pours into their kiss.
Their hips grind against each other, feverishly colliding, frantic under rough yet pure pleasure. Alhaitham barely feels the grip on his wrist anymore, his arms and legs shaking at each agitated thrust.
Then, deft fingers slide from Alhaitham’s chin to the back of his head, leaving him grasping at the sheets for dear life. When he pulls back, desperate to make sense of his jumbled thoughts, Kaveh doesn’t let him, dragging his head back against the heat of his mouth.
“Do you even know how you looked at me just now?” Kaveh ushers against his lips before diving for a quick kiss.
Alhaitham just hums, interrogative, too lost in the soft tones of Kaveh’s muted voice to give a proper answer. He just wants more. More of those warm words gliding on his skin, more of those lips against his, devouring his sanity.
“You looked like you would die if I didn’t kiss you.”
Well, that wasn’t on purpose, but Kaveh doesn’t need to know that; Alhaitham isn’t complaining about this turn of events.
The original plan of ‘using bickering as a frustration outlet’ still stands though. Time to get back on track.
He grins. “Then I got what I wanted. Should we go back to our curtain discussion now?”
Kaveh’s frown deepens in response. He stares down at Alhaitham in consternation, and the scribe’s sly smile grows. That’s more like it. That’s the kind of reaction I wanted.
“Just shut up,” Kaveh groans.
Before Alhaitham can retort, he is pulled back into an aggressive kiss and instantly forgets about anything planned.
Their teeth collide, causing him to wince, but it doesn’t seem to bother Kaveh, who invades with his tongue again. The blonde presses him further down into the sheets, pinning him in place, the grip against his wrist sinking his arm further into the mattress.
Alhaitham’s head starts to spin while Kaveh grows even more heated. The hand at his neck slides down his shoulders, and then to his chest, roaming hungrily across his clothes, fingers pressing against muscles.
It almost hurts, but Alhaitham grows addicted to the pressure as Kaveh grasps his flesh like the urge is uncontrollable. As if he just can’t decide which part he likes best.
With all his frantic kisses and touches, Kaveh barely leaves any time for breathing, determined to swallow any sound coming out of their mouths, gasping each time they part.
Kaveh seems to like it a lot. Despite his own panting, the blonde dives back in again and again for another kiss, his tongue desperately following Alhaitham’s, like the air tastes better inside his mouth. Their teeth clash again, spit spilling as frantic kisses miss lips, sometimes landing on a nose or a chin under the frenzied onslaught.
Kaveh grinds down unabashedly now, his hand roaming freely between Alhaitham’s abdomen, shoulders, and chest, searching for something to hold on to, something to evacuate the accumulating frustration.
Finally, he groans, and his wandering hand drops into Alhaitham’s pants, grabbing firmly at his erection.
“Archons—!” It’s all he can say before Kaveh’s palm starts sliding across his length, leaving the scribe’s brain reeling under the sudden, searing hot bliss.
Wait, when did Alhaitham start getting hard in the first place? Why is he so excited?
His senses scream under Kaveh’s assault. His nose relishes the smell of his shampoo. His skin melts under the heat of his caresses. Even his eyes, barely opened, send flashes of red and gold, of Kaveh’s mouth gasping. Faint, desperate whines reach his ears. Who is even making those sounds? Is it Kaveh? Is it him? Wait, where are his headphones?
Drowned in the overload of sensations, Alhaitham neglects his building pleasure rising under the careful ministrations of the hand gliding across his shaft.
He only notices it when it threatens to unravel.
“Wait! I’m going—! I’m going to—!” He tries to warn, grabbing Kaveh’s arm.
Shockingly, the hand speeds up.
Alhaitham rises and buckles under the assaulting caress. His free hand squeezes tight around Kaveh’s arm, the other one fighting against the strength pushing it above his head. His legs twitch, uncontrollable, erratic under pleasure. He feels weak. Each one of his efforts ends up useless in the face of sweltering pleasure, melting his resisting muscles in a trembling mess.
He’s trapped.
He looks at Kaveh focusing on his task, zoning out on the hand gliding across his length. His cheeks are red, his eyes maddened with desire, and his breath short. Those fiery eyes keep asking for more, more, always more. Alhaitham feels like one of his drafts, spread on his desk under a scornful watch; never perfect enough, never beautiful enough, something that needs to be reworked until Kaveh passes out.
And he loves it.
His orgasm shocks him, Kaveh ripping it away from his body. It explodes in his stomach, curling his nerves and leaving him weak in its aftermath.
Alhaitham lets out a small sigh, shivering against Kaveh’s heat slipping through their clothes, comforting his mind. His thoughts dissolve into a fog of bliss. He’s floating for a while, the hand around his softening cock slowing down to a lazy rhythm, helping him come down from his peak while making sure the pleasure lasts. The only thing keeping him grounded is the grip still locked around his wrist, stretching his arm in a delicious tug.
When he finally settles down, Kaveh lets go and sits back on top of him. They stare at each other in shock.
“Woah,” Kaveh breaks the silence.
Woah indeed. Alhaitham thinks there might be a comeback or a dig about a lack of eloquence somewhere to be made, but he can’t quite find the words.
All he knows is that he wants more. More of that laser-focused attention on him, more of that desperation, more of feeling trapped under relentless passion. He can still feel Kaveh’s hardness maddeningly poking against his stomach, and something must be done about it.
Quick, how should he egg Kaveh on?
Honestly, Alhaitham is not above begging. But that wouldn’t work the way he wants it to. Kaveh usually mellows down after that, weak to his lover’s desperation, incapable of shutting off the urge to coddle him. No, if Alhaitham wants more roughness, more selfish passion, he has to keep annoying him.
“I’m- I’m sorry, Alhaitham,” Kaveh starts to apologize, “are you alrigh—”
“I’m fine. But you’re not getting rid of those curtains tonight if you just keep staring at me like that.”
“I- Wha—,” Kaveh blinks rapidly, confused by the whiplash of Alhaitham trembling under his whims one moment and being struck with his snarky remarks the next. He looks at his junior questioningly before the scribe lets a teasing smile slip, staring up with defiance.
Kaveh’s hardness twitches. “You—!”
Alhaitham huffs. If Kaveh is this easy to rile up, how come they’ve never ended up in this situation before?
“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh!? I’ll show you!” Kaveh furiously storms out of the room, leaving Alhaitham cold on the bed.
Disoriented, he props himself up on his elbows, looking at the door in disbelief. “Kaveh?”
Did Alhaitham do something? Did he push his teasing too far? A slight discomfort twists in his stomach, his guts tied with a drop of worry. Surely, Kaveh wouldn’t leave him alone on the bed like this, right?
Unfortunately, he can very well imagine the architect returning to work after that, fleeing this new dynamic to return to his drafts and sketches. With a sigh, Alhaitham lies back down on the bed to stare at the ceiling, keeping his breathing measured, trying to calm the frustration rising inside. It’s fine. He’s used to Kaveh’s creative outbursts. He’s used to being abandoned at each new brilliant idea crossing the famous light of Kshahrewar’s brain. It’s fine if Kaveh goes back to a certain Mr. Yusuff’s project, leaving Alhaitham all alone after giving him one of the best handjobs ever.
Then he hears something crash, followed by swearing.
Alhaitham props himself back up, worried, ready to sprint toward the sound. “Kaveh? What are you doing?”
Before he can move, angry footsteps resonate through the corridor, and Kaveh reenters the bedroom with the pink curtains in hand.
“What are you—”
“I can’t believe you even cleaned them,” Kaveh spits out as if it was the most injurious thing Alhaitham has ever done. “I told you time and time again to wash all new carpets and curtains, and you choose to listen to me for these horrors!?”
Yes. Because Alhaitham somehow knew this would get Kaveh even more upset. Relaxed that his plan is back on track, he smugly responds: “So, you’re getting mad at me for following your advice.”
A strange, malicious glint shines in Kaveh’s eyes. “All right, enough talking. Since I can’t get through to you with words, I’ll make you feel it.”
While Alhaitham tries to decipher what he means by that, Kaveh is back on him in a flash. He tugs the scribe’s shorts down and roughly pulls his shirt up. Alhaitham gasps at the feeling, nerves still raw from his earlier orgasm. But this is not the most shocking action Kaveh takes.
He wipes the white drops cooling on Alhaitham’s stomach with the curtains.
A yelp escapes the younger man at the discomfort. Kaveh’s movements are by no means careful. He scrubs harshly at the skin in forceful swipes, grazing it red, tearing apart the pleasant fog in Alhaitham’s mind. His body starts to shake again, trapped between the contradicting signals of the burning abrasion and of Kaveh’s heated gaze devouring him.
It doesn’t stop at the first few rough swipes. Discomfort persists against Alhaitham’s pelvis, the fabric brushing against his softening, oversensitive cock. Pain and pleasure shock through his nerves, drowning his brain in conflicting signals. His mind turns fuzzy as his opened mouth, ready to protest, lets out one of the dirtiest moans to ever pass through his lips.
“There, this is what cheap fabric feels like,” Kaveh says with a proud smile bordering sadistic on his lips. “No matter how stubborn, someone as physically sensitive as you should be able to get it by now.”
A silence passes as they both realize, yet again, the situation they are in. This is starting to get ridiculous. Alhaitham needs this proud, patronizing, and slightly sadistic Kaveh to fuck him silly. Now.
Disappointingly, Kaveh snaps back to his careful, cautious self. “A-Anyway, I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He says, embarrassed, getting off the bed.
And oh no, Alhaitham is having none of that. He reflexively traps Kaveh between his legs, forcing him to stay. He startles, his hand grabbing Alhaitham’s knees in fright before freezing. He then stares at the man under him with surprise and worry.
But Alhaitham knows better. He feels the slight shake in Kaveh’s hand, feverish to roam across the scribe’s legs. He sees his eyes struggling to focus on his face. He also feels the hardness in Kaveh’s pants poking against him maddeningly, thrusting in small aborted movements.
Its too late to go back, this new dynamic will be explored right now. And Alhaitham is convinced Kaveh wants it too. They just need one last push. One last push to throw his over-caring composure out the window, one last push until Kaveh can’t do anything else but take, take, and take what is rightfully his.
Quick. Alhaitham must think of a retort.
“Your point makes no sense,” for once, he starts speaking before finishing his thought. “The purpose of curtains isn’t to wipe things clean. So, there is no need to make their texture pleasing. You should know as much, senior.”
There it is. His final card. The word ‘senior’ always has an interesting effect on Kaveh.
As expected, his eyes flare up with a complex mix of arousal and annoyance. In a flash, he’s back to his rightful place, hovering over his cheeky junior.
He grabs both of Alhaitham’s wrists this time, pinning them above his head. “That’s it,” he ushers, his annoyance immediately drowned in arousal. “Since you’re being so difficult, I’m not stopping until you’re a begging mess and truly apologize for buying these curtains.”
Now, that sounds like a plan. “I’d love to see you try,” Alhaitham simply responds, too excited to properly register what it entails.
“Safe word?”
Alhaitham doesn’t know exactly which devious neurons connect in his brain. It feels like a zap of electro, impossible to stop, uncaring about the consequences of the word. “Yusuff.”
Kaveh frowns. “Are you serious?”
The zap continues its course down Alhaitham’s stomach, lighting a pit of brewing magma, and his feeling of frustration explodes. “Well, you’ve been forgetting about me as soon as you hear his name lately, so… it seems like a good idea.”
He didn’t mean to sound so cold and biting. Or to complain about being left out. Shit.
Kaveh’s annoyance flares up again, threatening to overpower arousal, and Alhaitham worries he pushed things too far this time. But Kaveh has better control over his emotions than Alhaitham gives him credit for. Or maybe he’s just eager to get his hands on his disrespectful junior and teach him a lesson.
“Fine. Let’s talk about that afterward. For now…”
Kaveh slips his palm back around Alhaitham’s cock, making him gasp, his skin oversensitive from the earlier rough treatment. The curtains still lay on the scribe’s stomach, their abrasive texture scratching uncomfortably at the slightest movement.
“… You’re going to cum until this horrible pink becomes white.”
Kaveh’s words slide against Alhaitham’s lips one more time, twisting his guts in the most delicious heat before their mouths collide again.
———
“Hey, stop pushing my head away.”
Alhaitham doesn’t answer, shivering, his hand grasping Kaveh’s blond hair for dear life. His mind is fuzzy, sparks dancing before his eyes, struggling to come back down from the feeling of luscious lips locked around his length.
He has always been extremely sensitive to blowjobs, Kaveh knows that. Usually, his lover eases him into the sensation, licking sweetly at the tip before dropping down, then finally taking it in little by little. But not this time. This time, Kaveh went for the quickest way to make Alhaitham shut up: dropping between his legs and sucking the soul out of his body.
It’s very effective. Alhaitham’s head is turning from the light drag of teeth, melting from the pleasure, turned crazy by the greed in his senior’s eyes.
“Come on, I barely touched you. You can’t be that far gone,” Kaveh grumbles, his hot and feverish breath crawling maddeningly between Alhaitham’s legs. Despite his complaints, the blush on his cheeks betrays how excited he is.
“Oh? Says the man beside himself, even without any stimulation,” proving his point, Alhaitham probes with his foot and pushes against his lover’s painful erection. An aggravated groan rumbles out in response.
“Fine, you’re not far gone enough if you can still give me that much attitude.”
Kaveh takes Alhaitham back inside his mouth in one go. It fits almost entirely, a hand caressing the base, and Alhaitham’s sly grin is replaced by a debauched moan in an instant.
Gods. He’s losing his mind. The fog of pleasure dissolves any coherent thought in a litany of good, hot, and good. There is nothing else. Just him and the alienating sensation of Kaveh’s unrelenting tongue swirling around his cock, teasing the tip before sliding all the way down, and it feels hot. Too hot.
A cap opens. He doesn’t fully register it until slick fingers are pressing against his hole, and his soul shakes out of his body. The melting, hot pleasure peaks higher as they push inside.
His arm tenses, grip strengthening on Kaveh’s hair, desperate for an anchor in this whirlwind of sensations.
“Okay, that’s it! I’m done!” all heat suddenly disappears, fingers and mouth gone, and Alhaitham whimpers like the air just vanished.
What’s going on? Why did it stop? His sight hazily registers a flurry of blond hair. But before he can get a clear picture, his arms are tugged above his head, something cold closing around his wrists. A jolt shakes his body, yearning for Kaveh’s heat to return to him, against him. He’s so cold, he needs, he needs...
His first reflex is to pull his hands towards Kaveh’s blurry figure. It doesn’t work. He tries a few more times before understanding that he can’t. It takes another second to register the situation in its entirety: Oh. He’s handcuffed to the bed.
A shiver runs down his spine, his ears heating up. This position makes him feel uncomfortably exposed. He feels even colder, his chest bare, deprived of Kaveh’s warm body. Only the uncomfortable, grating fabric covering his lower abdomen.
Then, a rush of embarrassment heats his face. He tugs on his restraints one more time, only to feel the strength of the metal keeping his wrists in place.
Fighting against the dizziness, Alhaitham blinks to clear his sight. He sees Kaveh’s face hanging above his with wonder, ruby eyes devouring the view without an ounce of shame. His fiery gaze swings back and forth between the trapped wrists, the exposed chest, and his lover’s expression.
Right. What face is Alhaitham making? A light self-consciousness brings another pin of heat to his face. He realizes he doesn’t feel cold anymore, the fire in Kaveh’s eyes keeping him sufficiently warm.
It feels uncomfortable though, his senior’s gaze heavy to bear. In an effort to hide it, Alhaitham tilts his head up in defiance. Kaveh doesn’t comment, as if entranced by each movement.
“And why the handcuffs?” Alhaitham complains when the silence becomes too thick.
“Huh? Oh! Uh…” the blond shakes his head, struggling to get words out. “I, uh… well, uhm. Yes. That.”
Alhaitham relaxes when he realizes Kaveh is just staring. Hard. Because his brain just crashed. How flattering. If it caused such a reaction, there is no need for Alhaitham to be embarrassed. Suddenly, he wants Kaveh’s gaze to be the only piece of clothing he would ever wear, reveling in its heat, in its heavy weight over his body.
He can’t resist teasing for a bit, though.
“Well? Can’t explain yourself? Is seeing me tied down and at your mercy so tantalizing, senior?”
Kaveh frowns. The annoyance allows him to speak in full sentences again. “Don’t get ahead of yourself now. It’s just to stop you from pushing on my head again.”
Alhaitham’s petty grin just grows bigger. “Right. Of course.”
“You—! Urgh! Alright, I’m done arguing. I liked it better when you were whimpering.”
Kaveh drops back down between Alhaitham’s legs, harshly shoving them apart, and for the third time tonight, takes him deep into his mouth without leaving any time to adjust. The scribe’s body jolts with a yelp, but Kaveh’s strong and rough hands press down on the insides of his thighs, keeping them wide open.
Helpless, Alhaitham’s hands try to grab onto Kaveh again, only to be reminded of the handcuffs digging into his skin. Frustration rises and mixes with the torturous, overwhelming pleasure of Kaveh’s tongue swirling around his length, wrenching a series of breathless gasps out of his mouth, his hips buckling needlessly into the wet warmth without a semblance of control.
Dear gods, he thinks this is turning him crazy in the best way possible.
It stays stupidly overwhelming, though. His mind screams for some sort of reprieve, for some sort of clarity, for two thoughts to align amid the chaotic sensations. His body is quickly turning sore from all his muscles contracting at the mercy of Kaveh’s whims. It twitches and writhes against the sheets like he’s being tortured.
Alhaitham finally finds comfort by pressing his mouth firmly against his arm, bent right next to his face. He also squeezes his eyes shut and controls his breath to muffle the sounds pouring out of him. For a few seconds, he hears his thoughts.
But Kaveh comes in and shatters it away.
Arms circle Alhaitham’s thighs before his body is yanked down on the bed, stretching his arms straight, making it impossible to muffle his moans fully.
“No, you don’t get to do that,” Kaveh adds playfully, as if he didn’t just wreck Alhaitham’s mind, “I don’t often get to hear you shout like that, so indulge me.”
After that, Alhaitham cries out pitiful moans as the mouth swallowing greedily around him syncs up with the fingers thrust deep inside.
A few minutes later, he yelps, surprisingly high-pitch, when Kaveh pushes his throbbing cock in.
Well. If Kaveh’s asking for it, how can Alhaitham refuse?
———
The frenetic rhythm of hips slamming down against his pelvis shakes his soul to the core. The delicious squeeze of Kaveh’s hole around his half-hard cock intensifies the sensation even further. It’s desperate, urgent. The room is filled with their hiccupping breaths, whining each other’s name in lustful whispers.
“Haitham, Haitham you feel so good inside—!”
Shaky palms push against his abs, touch delirious, fighting exhaustion, urgently searching for some leverage.
Then, a last push. All goes white. Piercing pleasure. A desperate cry.
“No, no, wait, I was— almost— there!”
Kaveh desperately squeezes around Alhaitham’s limp cock, but all it earns is a wounded whimper of overstimulation.
His legs give out, and Alhaitham’s spent cock slips out of Kaveh. With a groan, Kaveh sits down on his lover’s stomach, frustrated and tired. “Dammit. I… I don’t have any strength left to fuck you right now.”
Alhaitham barely registers the words, too occupied with catching his breath and willing the world to stop spinning around him.
But then, a hand grabs his exhausted shaft and he forgets his goal of having a coherent thought. Fingers glide around his cock, begging it to get hard again, but it might as well be scraping his skin off due to how sensitive it is. His body arcs in protest, arms tugging against their restraint, attempting to flee the sensation with desperate jerks, but nothing deters the insistent grip around his length.
“Haitham… please… please, just five more minutes. I just… I just needed it inside for five more minutes…”
“I—I can’t, Kaveh, let me rest—!”
A disappointed sigh responds, piercing right through Alhaitham’s chest. He wants to answer that plea. He desperately wants to.
“Fine, I get it. I’ll use toys instead while I catch my breath then.” Sheets crease as Kaveh starts to move. “Oh, wait a minute.”
Curious, Alhaitham looks in Kaveh's direction and witnesses the architect’s deft fingers sink with ease inside his hole, thrusting inside. Kaveh lets out a pleased hum at the sensation, losing focus as he fucks himself back on his fingers. Oh, dear lord. Alhaitham can’t stop himself from staring hard, mouth-watering, his drained cock giving a last desperate twitch.
Far too soon, the fingers emerge, and a few white drops fall onto Alhaitham’s stomach, earning a jolt at the lukewarm sensation. Then, Kaveh grabs the curtains to wipe the mess clean, and Alhaitham whimpers, body trembling and fleeing the grating sensation.
“There,” Kaveh declares, a satisfied grin returning to his face. “Not one drop should be wasted if we really want to turn this thing white, right?”
Oh, right. Alhaitham almost forgot about what started this all.
He forgets again soon after when a dildo is pushed straight against his prostate and starts vibrating.
———
A scream as Kaveh thrusts inside, rough, cruel, Alhaitham’s hole stretching wide to accommodate the assault. His skin feels raw, bright red under the multiple swipes Kaveh insists on making with the stupid fucking curtains.
Miraculously, he cums again, his cock whimpering a few drops onto the tissue torturing his stomach beneath.
“Not much this time, huh,” comments Kaveh, winded, “you’re finally starting to get tired. Thank gods I had toys to wear you down.”
Kaveh pushes sharply in again, taunting another yelp of overstimulation out of Alhaitham’s throat, sore from shouting so much.
“Come on, give me more,” Kaveh asks, greedy, wrapping his palm around Alhaitham's limp cock.
“I- I can’t! Kaveh, please, I can’t!” Alhaitham pleads, shaking out of his skin. He tugs on his arms in vain, writhing on the bed in agony of his pleasure getting overpowered by a bone-deep soreness.
Archons. How many times did he come? What time is it? When is this going to stop!? He’s usually the one with stamina, how come Kaveh is running him ragged like this!?
“Gods. You look desperate,” Kaveh feverishly whispers against his face before sloppily capturing his swollen lips, groaning in delight. “Shit, I think I could do this all night.”
All night? Alhaitham straight out sobs in response. It makes Kaveh pause.
“Alhaitham?”
Fuck you, Kaveh, he thinks, now stubbornly silent.
“Alhaitham, tell me the safe word.”
Screw you, just end it already. He stays silent.
“Alhaitham, I’m not joking, give me the safe word. Now,” comes in Kaveh’s harsh voice, accompanied by a tug on grey hair.
“Yusuff! Do you like hearing this name that much? Is that it!?”
The harshness of his own words makes Alhaitham snap back. Right. No need to get so worked up. This is what he wanted and asked for. This is to relax and please Kaveh. And he still wants to do that.
But even then, he feels frustrated. He feels so incredibly frustrated, and tired, and desperate, and this is all Kaveh’s fault.
Kaveh doesn’t answer for a while, studying Alhaitham’s face, his stare darkening. “Should I remind you who chose that?”
Alhaitham turns his head and pouts. Something in this somehow gets Kaveh to chuckle.
“Alright. So? Nothing else to add?” he asks, softer.
The scribe shakes his head, still pouting.
“Alhaitham…” the call of his name sounds pleading, and scared. It finally gets him to turn his stare back to Kaveh.
The blond sighs, warily approaching his lips again for a kiss. Alhaitham lets him. It starts slow, chaste, hesitant, before the heat returns to them both, the touch growing comforting and passionate.
Oh. Right. That’s what they were doing.
That’s the Kaveh who he adores and wants. No matter the arguments, no matter how tired, Alhaitham would give him the world should it be asked of him.
He burns.
He interiorly burns for this man, and he wants to be good, wants to help him, wants to…
Alhaitham whines when Kaveh’s lips retreat, chasing them eagerly. But his arms are still attached to the bed frame, his limbs weak, and he plops back down on the sheets with a wounded whimper.
“Kaveh…” he says softly, his voice breaking on the last syllable.
A warm hand caresses his cheek. “Let me ask you again: do you have anything else to tell me?”
This is where the rules of their arrangement flood back to Alhaitham. Right. If he apologizes or uses the safe word, it all stops.
It… stops?
But Alhaitham doesn’t want this to stop. He wants Kaveh’s eyes to never stray away from him. He needs it even. He has been craving this for who knows how long.
He silently watched and witnessed Kaveh work for days now, becoming jealous of simple pieces of paper because ruby eyes graced their existence with the crushing weight of their stare. Alhaitham dreamed of cuddling to sleep, of arguing, of anything. Of just having a fleeting moment, a second even, where he was the center of Kaveh’s world.
And now, he’s drowning in his attention, desperate for air, but never wanting to get back to the surface. He wants to stay in this state of helplessness until Kaveh abandons him here, until Kaveh decides it’s enough.
Alhaitham shakes his head, tears starting to roll on his face.
Kaveh takes in a shaky, charged breath. What face is he making right now? Alhaitham doesn’t know. His sight is blurry. “Alright. Let’s continue then.”
———
A sob. “Kaveh…” A cry.
Alhaitham isn’t even sure what he’s asking for anymore, his cries and sobs muffled in the sheet. He doesn’t remember when, but he ended up flipped on his stomach, his knees propped under his hips. The handcuffs loosened before tightening back some time ago, maybe that’s when.
He hazily gazes to the side, barely registering the numerous toys lying over a nauseating pink. They are covered in lube and cum. Were they all used tonight? If he had the mental capacity, Alhaitham thinks he could list them. Would it correspond to the entire stock of this house?
“Haitham—! Haitham, you feel— so good—!”
Yet, something is still thrusting into him, slamming against his abused prostate each time, ripping thrashing moans out of his mouth.
Another tired voice is groaning in his ears, lost in pleasure, two warm hands firmly grasping his hips, pulling him against disjointed thrusts.
Rocked against the sheets and a familiar rough, wooly, torturous texture, his stomach starts to boil and heat up with a coiling tension again.
He is thrown into the paradox of thirsting for this knot of boiling pleasure to unravel, yet fearing its crushing, devastating power. And under the panic, it all comes back to him.
Whose idea was this!? Who bought these stupid curtains!?
Right. He did.
He really shouldn’t have. He should have ignored them, and gone on with the groceries.
He really should have—
It was a bad idea—
He’s really, really—
“—Sorry! I’m, I’m sorry! I should— I shouldn’t have—!”
A choked whine drops in his ear, “Oh my god, Haitham—! You’re, you’re squeezing—so much—! I’m— Hold on—!”
The hands on his hips glide across his skin, sweaty arms wrapping around his chest, a warm body pressing at his back as the thrusts grow deeper, filling him to the brim.
It doesn’t stop the litany of excuses coming out of Alhaitham’s mouth. “Sorry, I’m so sorry Kaveh! Kaveh—! Please! Forgive me—!”
Then, the peak hits. There is a raw scream and the sensation of his throat hurting. It doesn’t sound like his voice.
A shivering breath whines something in his neck, the push inside him burying itself deep, a hot liquid filling his hole one last time, shattering his senses.
The rest feels numb, or too intense to be described properly. Maybe he sees, maybe he smells, maybe he tastes something, anything, but it doesn’t linger long enough to be named.
Pleasure rips through Alhaitham like broken glass, marking his flesh, ravaging his insides, carving a way through his soul.
He needs this to stop. It needs to stop; how does he make it stop!? Someone, anyone—!
The pressure inside suddenly retreats, his wrists are freed soon after. He instinctively curls on himself.
Safe.
He feels safe.
“Alhaitham? Hey, Alhaitham—!?”
He doesn’t know who’s shouting, but he ignores it, letting his mind drift off into a floating, comforting darkness.
———
When his conscience finally returns, the first thing he feels is trembling fingers running across his back. Then, a reassuring warmth wrapped around him pulls a pleased hum out of his mouth.
“Alhaitham…?”
The voice is hesitant, scared.
It’s Kaveh.
His eyes open in a reflex, ready to fight away whatever caused his dear senior to worry. But Alhaitham realizes quickly that Kaveh is staring straight at him, his eyebrows creased down, and he understands that he is the source of the anxiety.
Kaveh sighs in relief. “Thank God… You’ve been out for a minute; I didn’t know what to do.” His lower lip trembles in a downed frown.
Alhaitham reaches to tug him against his chest in comfort, and Kaveh lets out another sigh, his shoulders relaxing in the hold. Their breathing falls into a rhythm. Who knows how long they stay like that, glued to each other, focused on their chests rising and falling.
It feels peaceful. It feels nice. It allows Alhaitham to come back down in his own body, the heat of Kaveh’s soft skin against his grounding him.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.” Alhaitham finally finds his voice, raspy from crying so much.
Kaveh lets out a hum in response, nuzzling closer, his arms squeezing Alhaitham tight. “Do you need anything?”
“Well, a bath in a bit. But I think I’m speaking for the both of us.”
“Not like that,” groans Kaveh. There is a slight tremble in here, something frail.
Intrigued, Alhaitham stares down. He can’t see the blonde’s expression, hidden in their hold, but after pondering for a while, it clicks.
Oh. Kaveh’s definitely overthinking something, isn’t he?
Alhaitham snuggles an arm between them and raises a thumb to dark blond eyebrows, lightly massaging in between to erase a frown creasing there.
A pleased hum escapes Kaveh before he elaborates. “Just… Did I go too far with anything? We didn’t really… talk it out.”
The massage pauses, as Alhaitham seriously considers the question. All of tonight’s events flash in his mind, as he tries to remember the feelings and sensations he experienced: helplessness, overstimulation, desperation, loss of control…
But no matter how long he thinks about it, he wanted them all, he assumes them all, and his retrospective only ends with a diffused heat in his guts, telling him that it was mind-blowingly good, and that he’ll probably get hard every time he thinks about it. (In the future at least. For now, Alhaitham’s probably done for the rest of the week.)
So, truthfully, he responds: “No, it was good.”
“Good? Good!? That’s all you have to say!?” Unsure of where this sudden outburst comes from, Alhaitham lets Kaveh go as the blond takes some distance to glare. He seems… revolted?
“I was there, losing my mind, incapable of controlling myself because of how— how hot you were! —Just lying there, moaning and taking it all, rewiring my brain without doing anything else, and all you have to say is ‘it was good’!?”
Oh. So, that’s what it’s about. Kaveh’s freaking out because he liked seeing his lover struggling. He liked towering over him, letting his greed take the wheel, and pushing Alhaitham to his limits. Yet, his pointed, moral compass tugs at his heart, questioning if it was really a pleasing experience on the receiving end. That, and probably a bone-deep embarrassment at his lack of restraint.
Really, what a complicated man. He can’t feel one emotion without experiencing its exact reverse. Alhaitham snorts.
“And there you go, laughing at me again!”
Alhaitham slides a hand on Kaveh’s cheek, caressing softly, as if trying to erase his worries. To reassure him further, he adds: “I’m glad to know you enjoyed it as well.”
It stops Kaveh’s incoming rant. He stares at Alhaitham, incredulous, as if he just announced to him the sun will wake up the other way tomorrow. A few grumbles and aborted sentences eloquently come out of his mouth before he collapses against Alhaitham’s chest once again, melting in a puddle of red embarrassment.
How much cuter can his stupid senior get? His hand comes to play with blond hair as Alhaitham’s lips settle on top of his head. How unfair. How can Alhaitham win most of their verbal spars, yet feel so completely defeated by Kaveh’s mere existence?
“Don’t think you’re getting away with using a client’s name as a safe word by the way,” grumbles Kaveh. It stops Alhaitham’s fingers in their caress. Oh. Somewhere deep inside, he hoped Kaveh had forgotten about that.
The pause emboldens Kaveh. His face emerges once again from Alhaitham’s chest, and a malicious grin slips on his face. “So, what was that about, huh? Don’t tell me you were jealous.”
Was he? No, probably not. Alhaitham understands that Kaveh needs to pour his mind into his work. He’s not the same as his young student self, witnessing his adored senior struggle to accommodate everyone and seeing red, leaving him pouting for days.
But… Well. He was pouting. And missing Kaveh. And… Oh, alright, Alhaitham admits it. “Yes. A little bit.”
Kaveh chokes in response. “Wait, really!?”
“Why so surprised?”
“Well— because… You’re you! You’re always fine on your own, so…”
“…You didn’t think I would miss you?”
He lowers his gaze. “I’m… Sorry. This project has kept me on edge. And it’s really important to me, so…”
Alhaitham sighs before his arms circle Kaveh’s shoulders in comfort. That’s why he hasn’t said anything about his feelings. He knew his boyfriend would feel responsible for them. But, well, now that it’s out, he should make it clear.
“It’s okay. I know how you work, and I’ve accepted it,” he says, “I never planned to bring it up in the first place. But even if I like to spend time alone, of course I’m going to miss you at some point.”
Kaveh’s lower lips tremble slightly under his emotions. It prompts Alhaitham to squeeze him closer.
“Noted,” the blonde finally says in a shivering voice.
Alhaitham’s gaze softens. “Sorry for being petty.”
“Well, I’m glad you know what you are.”
He flicks Kaveh’s forehead with his fingers. The blond lets out a wet chuckle, a bit of guilt slipping through, but finally relaxed and happy.
———
“So. That’s where the crash came from.”
Alhaitham stares at a curtain rod, the past support of some horrible curtains. Emphasis on past. It now lies on top of their desk, its screws nowhere in sight, and surrounded by pieces of plaster. At their place on the wall, two holes stand just above the barren windows.
“Listen. I-I was in a hurry to get rid of the curtains and—” Kaveh tries to explain, his face getting redder by the minute.
“To get rid of the curtains? Really? And yet, you fucked me for hours, forgetting them on the bed. I think you got distracted, senior.”
“S-Stop teasing me! Hey! No laughing either!”