no subject

[ Of course, Alhaitham is right— he's not moving his hand, taking advantage of the fact that right now, Kaveh's hips are doing most of the work for them, pressing down and writhing against him in time with the blonde's moans into his mouth. When the scribe breaks free from the kiss, the architect chases him with a whine, but lips and nose are already nuzzling against his ear, and Alhaitham's voice is so low with promise and desire as he says those words that Kaveh feels the warning tense at his groin, gasps out as his head tilts back. ]

Okay— Okay, I'm ready for you.

[ He's probably not, not quite, but anything is better than coming again before they even properly start. ]

Please, Alhaitham.