[ Of course, when Kaveh hears the words from Alhaitham, he'll be overjoyed— but where he knows he needs to say them aloud himself, at least for now he's okay with the fact that the other hasn't. He knows Alhaitham, knows that despite his love of words, he's not as quick to use them as others might be, waiting for the place and time he deems worthy of them.
And besides: the poetry, the kisses, the return of the question before— in his own way, the other has already told him, hasn't he?
So he's utterly content as he leans into the kiss, heart pounding in his chest, arms lifting to circle the other's shoulders, a movement he's forced to undo in the next moment when Alhaitham pulls back from him just as they're brought together in a way that makes Kaveh curse meaningfully against the sound groaned into his mouth.
Does he have—
It takes his brain a moment or two to unfog enough that he can process the words. ] Yeah. [ He hates that he has to pull back even further, putting space between them as he shifts across the bed to open a drawer in his sidetable and resurfacing in the next moment with a vial of an oil flavored with the barest touch of vanilla.
He turns, looking back at Alhaitham. ]
Can you? [ he asks, the sweetness in his voice an odd contrast to the arousal swollen and flushed against his abdomen. ] Or do you need me to?
no subject
And besides: the poetry, the kisses, the return of the question before— in his own way, the other has already told him, hasn't he?
So he's utterly content as he leans into the kiss, heart pounding in his chest, arms lifting to circle the other's shoulders, a movement he's forced to undo in the next moment when Alhaitham pulls back from him just as they're brought together in a way that makes Kaveh curse meaningfully against the sound groaned into his mouth.
Does he have—
It takes his brain a moment or two to unfog enough that he can process the words. ] Yeah. [ He hates that he has to pull back even further, putting space between them as he shifts across the bed to open a drawer in his sidetable and resurfacing in the next moment with a vial of an oil flavored with the barest touch of vanilla.
He turns, looking back at Alhaitham. ]
Can you? [ he asks, the sweetness in his voice an odd contrast to the arousal swollen and flushed against his abdomen. ] Or do you need me to?