[ All good tunes should be answered with song. As such, Kaveh is as vocal in content as he is in frustration. This is a fact true of him whether he is enjoying some particularly appetizing dish, or indulging in something carnalβ or, apparently, in the feel of strong fingers unwinding stress from his neck. Any obscenity is accidental, to be agonized over later, to be examined and picked apart the way he picks everything apart, staring in mournful discomfort at the pieces as he asks himself what he could have done differently.
But that is later. Right now, he is every part the spoiled cat Alhaitham imagines him to be, humming in response to the admonishment, sighing in answer to the finger tracing up the nape of his neck and to his hairline. Sense and self-preservation have departed in favor of comfort. His own arms stretch and circle, fingers flexing like paws in search of something to which he can anchor himself.
One hand finds Alhaitham's waist. The other, his chest.
If Kaveh were truly feline, he would purr in his content. Instead, he hums his acquiescence, refraining for now from any wriggling or further movement. It is this easy, it seems, to depower his brain, to move him from overthinking every last thing to thinking about nothing at all.
At the very least, this he realizes, and he chuckles, the sound husky with content and torpor. ]
I think my brain has gone to mush, [ he mumbles. ] If I'm permanently broken, it's your fault.
no subject
But that is later. Right now, he is every part the spoiled cat Alhaitham imagines him to be, humming in response to the admonishment, sighing in answer to the finger tracing up the nape of his neck and to his hairline. Sense and self-preservation have departed in favor of comfort. His own arms stretch and circle, fingers flexing like paws in search of something to which he can anchor himself.
One hand finds Alhaitham's waist. The other, his chest.
If Kaveh were truly feline, he would purr in his content. Instead, he hums his acquiescence, refraining for now from any wriggling or further movement. It is this easy, it seems, to depower his brain, to move him from overthinking every last thing to thinking about nothing at all.
At the very least, this he realizes, and he chuckles, the sound husky with content and torpor. ]
I think my brain has gone to mush, [ he mumbles. ] If I'm permanently broken, it's your fault.