[ Talk to him? Kaveh's not sure he has any thoughts left, stolen from him as they are by the myriad ways in which Alhaitham attends to him, let alone the words the other wants for him to use. His response, then, is a weak, pathetic sound, half moan and half mumble of words that make no sense whatsoever, but are attempting to form a sentence. ]
Haitham— good, want— when— can't touch— and it's cold, nice— Archons, what you do—
[ He finishes the not-sentence with another plaintive whine, hips arching against those touches even as his body seeks to press back into Alhaitham at all angles. ]
no subject
Haitham— good, want— when— can't touch— and it's cold, nice— Archons, what you do—
[ He finishes the not-sentence with another plaintive whine, hips arching against those touches even as his body seeks to press back into Alhaitham at all angles. ]