[He had expected Kaveh to pull back with his warning, to perhaps stroke him to the rest of his completion, and not to go forth with this—fellatio, his mind would remind him of the word later with the strangest case of clarity after a moment of nothing at all—with even more gusto, like an overexcited maestro who would push forward his orchestra with repetitive once more, with feeling. Alhaitham lets out a sharp breath through his teeth, his legs folding to frame Kaveh's shape on his bed, and really, of all things to expect, this was in the very little realm of possibility in the Scribe's calculations.
Except it's Kaveh. He tends to bring those tiny breaches of the unlikely into fruition with an elegant flare of his fingers, a glint in his eye. It's what made him so mesmerizing in the first place.
Though as mesmerizing as it is, Alhaitham can't help the flutter of his eyes at the build-up, the arch of his back and the roll of his hips as the tension in his core stretches so thin it snaps apart, and his eyes do fly open, emptily looking at the ceiling of Kaveh's bedroom, when he does come undone with a soft, almost silent hiss, and a stutter to his hips, his fingers tangled in the golden locks of the architect's hair, and nothing, absolutely nothing in his mind.]
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Except it's Kaveh. He tends to bring those tiny breaches of the unlikely into fruition with an elegant flare of his fingers, a glint in his eye. It's what made him so mesmerizing in the first place.
Though as mesmerizing as it is, Alhaitham can't help the flutter of his eyes at the build-up, the arch of his back and the roll of his hips as the tension in his core stretches so thin it snaps apart, and his eyes do fly open, emptily looking at the ceiling of Kaveh's bedroom, when he does come undone with a soft, almost silent hiss, and a stutter to his hips, his fingers tangled in the golden locks of the architect's hair, and nothing, absolutely nothing in his mind.]