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It came as no surprise that the Light of Kshahrewar was a wealthy alpha. Intelligent, dangerously handsome, with a sharp-witted tongue and genetics that screamed posterity, opulence and grandeur.
(Or, that’s what Kaveh liked to think the articles about him said.)
The truth of the matter was, Kaveh had had it lucky. While he wouldn’t deny that he had a certain gift for architecture, he also knew that being born an alpha was a fluke, a stroke of luck, and something he shouldn’t take for granted. Secondary gender was random, a card drawn from a deck, and Kaveh knew that there was no real reason to boast about it.
(And besides, suppressants for both omegas and alphas were becoming more popular, no longer purely traded for endless mora in back alleys.)
There was indeed an alignment in society that humbly requested each man should be treated equally.
And yeah, all alphas weren’t built the same, but neither were all betas or otherwise! Kaveh didn’t hold a particular grudge against the rationally thick-headed roommate of his who seemed to ooze charm despite his laziness and inability to feel as much empathy as Kaveh, but he swears he wasn’t taking note of any of that!
So, who cared that Alhaitham was also an alpha, sharing the same house as Kaveh.
Who cared that alphas were expected to take an omega mate at some point in their lives.
And who is really keeping track of the fact that Kaveh has been in and out of love with an alpha since his academic years?
…
Suffice to say, Kaveh needed a solution.
* * *
“Kaveh.”
Kaveh doesn’t look up from his sketch. Instead, he moves his pencil to the right and nibbles on the end, deep in thought. Unfortunately, this does nothing to dissuade the man standing in the doorway. Kaveh continues to ignore him, but louder.
“Kaveh,” the man repeats.
Go away, thinks Kaveh, and then quickly him, I mean. Not my muse. Please don’t do that, this is the first time I’ve had a clear idea in months!
Kaveh sneaks a peek, anyway.
Alhaitham is taking up the whole doorway, arms folded, positively annoyed. Kaveh can tell the latter because his brows are furrowed like caterpillars and his jaw tight. Kaveh’s been on the receiving end of much of Alhaitham’s irritation since they were in school together, so he knows the signs.
“You need to stop leaving your … whatever they are, on the counter,” Alhaitham says, pausing only for a moment to steamroll ahead without finding the right words. “I don’t understand why you have so many different bottles, but put them away when you’re done.”
“Hm?” This prompts Kaveh to look up.
Kaveh batts his lashes over at him, theatrically playful, as he rests his cheek against his hand that’s holding the pencil. “You mean my skin and haircare?” he asks without really seeking any confirmation. “You would know what each of those ‘bottles’ is for, if you cared about your appearance.”
“My skin and hair are fine,” retorts Alhaitham.
He sounds unfazed. Ugh. Kaveh rolls his eyes and lets his gaze drop down to his sketch. “Fine is mediocre,” says Kaveh. “Hair that is soft and shines in the sun? That’s worth the effort to have.”
Alhaitham blinks thrice, sighs, and then drops his arms to his sides. “It sounds like an awful lot of mora that could be going to rent.”
Kaveh stiffens like a board. Wearily, he drags his pencil down against the parchment paper and pretends to be stricken by inspiration.
(And really, it’s just the inspiration not to be bullied by his roommate who is his junior.)
“Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours,” mumbles Kaveh, not at all defeated or with his metaphorical tail between his legs.
Alhaitham has already left, presumably to tend to the bottles littering the bathroom counter. And that’s fine, Kaveh tells himself, because Alhaitham really isn’t that angry. This is just their thing: this banter and pretending to drive each other up the wall. It’s always been like that. Kaveh wouldn’t trade it for the world, but would demand a hefty sum to admit it to the other man’s face.
Dinner. Right. He should get that started.
* * *
What Alhaitham doesn’t remark on is that Kaveh has a lot of strange bottles in the medicine cabinet that don’t seem to be related to his hair or skin. There’s a weird black label on a few of them and Kaveh only takes those right before bed. Had he had more sense, he would have kept them stowed away in his nightstand table. … But then he would likely forget they were there and he would be back to square one.
You see, Kaveh had a plan. Instead of paying the rent, he’d sink his money into “illegal” medication that was supposed to help transition an alpha into an omega. Of course, there were no clinical trials supporting that - nothing that far along, anyway - but Kaveh had grown relatively desperate despite the weak collection of data points from early pre-clinical studies.
With each day, month, year, he and Alhaitham grew closer to peak maturity. Or, put differently, the time in their lives where if they didn’t decide a mate for themselves, society would push one upon them for the “greater good”.
(Yeah, Kaveh didn’t want to talk about how fucked up that was.)
Kaveh would be the first to take a mate, and the idea of anyone other than Alhaitham being the one to see his messy bun in the morning, to be the one to know what he looked like when he didn’t sleep or was stuck in a creative rut, sent Kaveh’s gut plummeting and his mood souring.
(And the day Alhaitham had presented as an alpha was potentially the worst day of Kaveh’s life, because until then, he had held out hope that his troublesome junior - who he had the biggest fucking crush - on would be an omega. Or at least a beta that he could run away to Mondstadt or the like to be with.
But no, Alhaitham had presented as an alpha because of course he did. Alhaitham was strong, smart, handsome, full of untapped potential and woefully sexually untapped, mind you.
Why wouldn’t Alhaitham be his equal in this regard, too?
Kaveh didn’t cry much - he hated how his eyes and head felt after it - but if one or two tears slipped down his cheek that night, he promised himself he wouldn’t remember.)
He had decided long ago that he wanted Alhaitham, and rarely did Kaveh change his mind when he made a decision; he was stubborn that way.
* * *
“They’re annoying.”
“Who is they?”
“The girls following you around,” Alhaitham says, not looking up from his book but gesturing over his shoulder. A flock of girls near the entrance of the library, desperately trying to sneak a peek at the prodigal son, Kaveh, continue to whisper conspiratorially.
“You’re simply jealous,” laughs Kaveh and then throws the girls a bone and curls his fingers in a wave. “One day, you’ll be just like them, too, you know.”
“Excuse me?” Alhaitham doesn’t look up this time, either.
“When you present as an omega,” Kaveh whispers, delight in his eyes, a smirk painted in pastels on his face. “You’ll be irresistibly drawn to an alpha like myself, and then —”
Kaveh is unceremoniously whacked upside the head with Alhaitham’s book. As Kaveh pouts and rubs the side of his head, Alhaitham settles back in his seat and returns to the page he had been on.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Alhaitham says.
The girls come rushing forth, the floodgates opened at seeing their senior being treated so poorly. The sweet smell of omega punctuates the air and Alhaitham moves a hand, silently, to turn on his headphones and tune out the shrill mating sounds of adolescent girls, omega or not.
Kaveh swears he sees a crease in Alhaitham’s forehead, but it could just be a trick of the light.
* * *
The day they move into Alhaitham’s house, Kaveh has a cold.
It’s rare for an alpha to catch an illness, given their superior “bodies” and immune systems, but when they do, it’s truly a pitiful sight. Kaveh hasn’t stopped sneezing and woefully telling the world that his limbs ache and if he doesn’t survive, he’d love to have some buildings and books named after him.
Alhaitham drags him kicking and screaming (or, rather, sneezing) into his home and drops his belongings with a loud thud in his guest room.
Kaveh spends the day unpacking, flitting between blowing his nose and setting out trinkets on the furniture that was thankfully placed in the guest room before his arrival.
Kaveh remembers falling asleep on the floor that night, with a fever. He remembers waking in his bed the next day, to sunlight streaming in through cracked shutters, and a blanket that had the distinct smell of another alpha on it.
It was the first time Kaveh had been affected by a scent, let alone another alpha.
And it was the first time Kaveh felt something in his gut stirring that suggested life wasn’t ever going to be easy.
* * *
Kaveh challenges Alhaitham the next day. He holds the blanket with intense force, shaking it at his roommate as if it’s some kind of smuggled good from Inazuma.
“What is this?” Kaveh demands, body trembling.
“A blanket,” says Alhaitham in deadpan.
“I know that, I know that,” Kaveh says, hurriedly, “but it smells… do you have a secret mate, is that what this is?”
Alhaitham lifts a brow. “A what?”
“That’s what it is!” Kaveh says in a triumphant little flourish as he drops the blanket to the floor. “Why would you put your mate’s blanket on me? That’s disgusting, you know. I could have gone… aggressive, or something.”
Alhaitham pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to return to his notes that he’s rewriting.
“Don’t ignore me, Alhaitham! I’m your senior, and an alpha, and…”
“And what?” Alhaitham looks up again, unimpressed. “Why does that matter to you so much? It’s genetically determined at birth.” Or the evidence suggests that, anyway. “Why are you putting so much weight into something like that?”
“I’d think you’d love it, mister logical and rational,” complains Kaveh, folding his arms to his chest, gingerly kicking the discarded blanket across the floor. "It's scientific and straightforward."
“And I would have assumed you would rally against it,” Alhaitham murmurs. “It doesn’t strike me as something an artist would accept that easily.”
That day, Kaveh had hesitated. They had been in arguments before about the philosophical and other varying topics of importance, but this hadn’t been one of those; Kaveh feels the foundation of his beliefs quaking, if only barely. A small fissure to begin the end.
“Who are they?” Kaveh asks instead. “And where are they? Are they living here, too? You know I won’t do well with another alpha in here.”
“There is no one,” Alhaitham says, flatly.
“Then a dalliance, a midnight lover?” crows Kaveh, milking this for all the wrong reasons.
“Kaveh.” Alhatiham closes his book, squares a look at him that could freeze water. “The blanket is mine. No one else has been in this house for weeks.”
And then Kaveh’s mouth forms a little ‘oh’ as realization hits him like a Pyro spell.
Alhaitham is an alpha.
That’s … that’s news to him.
That’s great. Great for him. Wonderful. There won’t be an issue of them falling victim to lust or hormones or —
Alhatiham is an alpha.
Which means they’ll never be together.
Which means… the last four years of waiting, pining, learning more about the aloof buffoon, had been a pipe dream, a fool’s errand.
Kaveh isn’t sure what’s worse: waiting, or finally having the answer to something you’ve always wanted to know.
* * *
“Ack!”
Kaveh nearly spits out the pill the second it hits his tongue.
It’s been a few weeks now, on these “miracle pills” he spent a month’s worth of rent on. The flavor is disgusting, and even when swallowed with water, the taste is able to strongly linger and permeate through all his senses. It’s bitter, metallic, and vile. Kaveh supposes that if he knew what was in these pills he wouldn’t be taking them in the first place.
(Yeah, that’s a lie. He’s made a decision and he isn’t going to shy away from it, even if the taste is horrible and he feels even more feverish as of late.)
Kaveh spares a weak glance to the calendar that’s hanging in their bathroom. Two and a half weeks he’s been doing this, which leaves two more weeks before his scheduled rut. Usually, suppressants would prevent a rut from happening, but considering he’s been off those and on these pills, he wonders what that week will bring him.
(If it’s for Alhaitham, though, he’d do it. He’d risk it just to have that idiot understand how much he means to him.)
* * *
Kaveh is getting restless.
By week three, he hasn’t noticed any particular change in himself. He doesn’t feel any less of an alpha, and he certainly isn’t feeling intimidated by the other alphas he knows. Kaveh wonders, not for the first time, if he’s been duped and he’s just taking disgustingly flavored placebo pills.
If the pills don’t work, he’ll enter a rut, and then he’ll likely have a real fight with Alhaitham. Alhaitham will wonder why he went off his suppressants in the first place, and then that brilliant bastard will realize what Kaveh had been trying to do.
A different approach is warranted.
What Kaveh learns through snooping in the library he still has access to, even now, years graduated, is that there are more unorthodox ways to achieve the particular goal he has in mind. Put crassly: bitching.
There have been numerous reports of alphas forcefully converting other alphas into omegas through repeated sex and conditioning. The latter, of course, sends shivers down Kaveh’s spine and leaves a taste just as bad as the pills in his mouth. No thank you.
Asking Alhaitham to bitch him isn’t on the table. Why would it be? The man isn’t actively seeking a mate, seems to tolerate Kaveh half the time, and he — well, he just doesn’t seem the type to be able to accomplish the feat. Further, he has a job now, a respectable one, so why risk ruining his imagine by doing something so atypical?
… Of course, that’s not the only way. Scribbled in the margins of one of the medical journals he’s pouring himself over is a third option: self-imposed bitching. It sounds nonsensical, even to Kaveh, but it does have its allure.
It could be done in secret and it would be on Kaveh’s own timeline.
Foolproof.
* * *
Kaveh buys a toy from an even shadier merchant that same day. The green and bulbous object seems far larger than any alpha Kaveh has seen, but he supposes he’s never seen an alpha in rut before. Even so, the knot at the end of it looks impossibly complicated and Kaveh is convinced he will not be able to fit that girth up his ass, even with the “special lube” that was tossed in as a little treat.
It isn’t the first time that Kaveh’s played with himself. Back when he first met Alhaitham, a year before he himself presented, he had started developing feelings for him. At first, it was purely physical. Jerking himself off had been enough for awhile, but on the off-chance Kaveh presented as an omega, he wanted to know (and prepare) for what it felt like to have someone touch you there.
Kaveh remembers how it had felt the first time he sunk lube-covered fingers inside of himself. He had spent a good half an hour teasing his hole, tracing the rim and applying pressure just enough to make his dick hard and his body tremble. Another half an hour was spent getting used to the intrusive pressure and sting of one, two, and then three fingers. After that, it was a blur, of crooked fingers finding something deep inside and stroking it over and over until his vision went white and he painted his chest with more cum than he ever remembered producing at one time.
This time, it’s not his fingers.
This time, it’s something more fulsome and hard.
As before, Kaveh takes his time working himself up. His fingers drift along his chest, beneath the loose folds of his shirt to tease at his nipples. They go hard in record time. His other hand, then, focuses on unbuttoning his slacks and tugging them down to his ankles. He wastes no time slipping his hand between his thighs and pressing the pad of his thumb against the tight ring of muscle that puckers and constricts at first in distaste, but soon eases with the little ripples of pleasure that rubbing it back and forth cause.
Yeah, Kaveh thinks, he can do this. It’s fine.
By the time Kaveh has coated his fingers with lube, he’s already begun to picture not for the first or fifth time what kind of lover Alhaitham would be. Strong, assured, and protective, that he knows. For how brutish the man can be, Kaveh can tell he’d be more protective of a mate than most alphas, hormones or not. That thought brings Kaveh to full hardness more than the brush of his fingertips against a bundle of nerves deep inside him.
Things go much faster than his first time touching himself.
Kaveh abandons his fingers quickly for the sake of “trying out” the toy.
It feels much different than his fingers and far different than the first time he touched himself in such a way.
It’s almost as if his body is rebelling, having something foreign and hard inside of him. There’s a feverish nausea that hits him, his muscles tightening in places he wouldn’t expect a fake-dick up his ass to cause.
When he comes, from having palmed his cock roughly in time with the thrusts of the toy inside of himself, it’s not with a cry of pleasure but with a weak cough. The room feels like it’s spinning and he isn’t sure how an orgasm can leave a person feeling so wrecked for all the wrong reasons, vulnerable and utterly exposed.
He vows to do it again, sometime.
* * *
The next time Kaveh fucks himself with the toy, he tries to go as deep as the knot at the end of it. His body is repulsed by that especially, which makes the attempt an aborted effort leaving Kaveh on the bathroom floor hunched over porcelain.
He’ll get it right next time, he stubbornly tells himself. He has to.
He isn’t going to give this up.
* * *
“You look paler than usual,” Alhaitham notes on the beginning of the fourth week of Kaveh not taking his suppressants: it’s also the first full week of Kaveh impaling himself with a lubed-up version of Alhaitham each evening, but who’s counting?
“Do I?” Kaveh wrinkles his nose. Yeah, he hasn’t been feeling too great whatsoever.
“You do,” Alhaitham repeats, nods, takes a sip of his coffee. “Are you sleeping?”
Kaveh rolls his eyes and hides a blush behind his mug. “If you have to know,” he says, muttering, “I’m just stressed, okay? You’re not my mother, so.”
“So.” Alhaitham’s lips curl into a smile that almost looks fond before it slips away. “All right. Then you’ll have no reason not to clean the bathroom today.”
“You leave your things everywhere!” Kaveh squawks, immediately offended, head whipping up. “Your books and your … your pencils and notes! Everywhere! Sometimes even your shoes. Why do you have so many shoes, Alhaitham?”
“I plan to go into the business one day.”
“Seriously?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Kaveh drops his head down to the table and exhales a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, I hate you,” he says with absolutely no venom. His body warms at the thought of him, though. “Maybe I’ll just sleep right here, if you’re so worried about me.”
“Your neck will get stiff,” says Alhaitham, pleasantly, unperturbed, as he walks across the kitchen to deposit his mug in the sink. “Bathroom. Clean it later, before I get back.”
“Absurd,” Kaveh mumbles into the grain of the table. “Bossing your senior around…”
“See you in a bit.”
And then the jackass leaves, leaving Kaveh with a larger, ah, problem, than Kaveh anticipated by their little spat.
* * *
Kaveh is dragging his pants down as fast as humanly possible once Alhaitham is out of sight of the front window. Apparently, the medication and self-imposed bitching sessions must be working, because the mere command from Alhaitham had sent Kaveh’s blood boiling and his cock twitching. That was new, he had noted, straining not to flush scarlet before Alhaitham left.
Kaveh replays the scene over and over as he fists his weeping cock. He’s rougher than usual, only because he thinks Alhaitham would be rough, too, if he wanted him to be. Kaveh struggles with holding on long enough to dig out the toy from under the sink, lubing it up with shaky hands to plunge deep inside himself.
All in all, it’s a messy affair. Kaveh props himself against the bathroom sink with one hand on his dick and the other forcibly ramming the toy again and again into himself. His knees tremble with the exertion of it all, and that familiar nausea, that feeling of doing something an alpha shouldn’t, begins to creep in.
“Oh, fuck off,” Kaveh whines as he pushes in deeper, harder, and tries to angle at his prostate. His clipped moan chases away the nausea for the time being.
By the time the knotted end of the toy presses against his rim, Kaveh is seeing stars. His hand on his cock slows and he teases his thumb along the head of it, nail pressing down just to test the waters.
“Haitham,” Kaveh whimpers as the knot pushes in a centimeter, then two. “Oh, fuck, Haitham, please fuck me,” he rambles, breathless and deliriously pleased as he tries to push his body down onto the toy, tries to ride it as if it was Alhaitham pushing up against him from behind.
“Alpha, please,” Kaveh begs to the air, trembling, not even disgusting himself with how cliche or wrong it should feel to beg for another alpha. No, in his head, this is Alhaitham pulling his hair, spreading his legs, and fucking him good and hard.
“Haithammmm,” Kaveh whines as he drops a bit lower, bends his knees, tries to take the entire knot of the toy inside of himself as his face scorches beet red. He feels like he’s on fire, like his entire body is coated in some slick substance that isn’t just sweat. “Please, please, fuck stop teasing me like this,” Kaveh groans as he drops his hand from his cock and moves it to join his other hand on the toy. With two hands, Kaveh is able to thrust it harder into himself, the knot completely disappearing. “Fuck—!” he shouts, nearly collapsing to the floor.
His vision has gone from a pure white to complete darkness in seconds. Kaveh isn’t sure if it’s bliss he’s feeling or piercing pain. Either way, he’s covered in sweat and there’s — something, lube, maybe, dripping from his hole at the edges, covering his hands and legs.
Despicable, he thinks, and dirty and this is fine. His thoughts are jumbled and his breathing is erratic and he thinks doing this not on his bed was a bad idea.
“…Kaveh?”
Oh, great. Now he’s hallucinating. Splendid.
Kaveh decides to answer the hallucination, anyway, because he’s also out of sorts. “I … can go again, if you want. Just give me a second, and you can cum, too,” he mumbles, imagining an Alhaitham with a still swollen knot that hasn’t been able to get off.
“What?”
“I said,” Kaveh groans, trembling as he tries to stand up straighter, easing the toy’s knot out of him with a hiss, “just gimme a second, okay? I’m not used to …”
A thick trail of slick oozes from him once the knot is out. The toy is covered in it, and Kaveh has never felt so wet in his life.
Alhaitham smells. Or, he faintly smells of something.
Why does his hallucination of Alhaitham smell like cedar?
“You’re … not an alpha?”
That’s weird to say, he wants to complain, but then his heart is skipping eight thousand beats because he looks up into the mirror and sees Alhaitham standing in the doorway, very much real, very much dressed, and very much an alpha.
“Oh.” Kaveh removes the rest of the toy and stands fully, staring at their reflections. “Well, I can explain.”
“Go on.”
Kaveh feels like he may faint from the sheer embarrassment of it all. There is still slick easing its way down his legs, puddling at the floor, and his cock is shiny and hard, eager to go again. He tries to move the toy out of sight, but he suppose the damage has already been done and Alhaitham has seen far more than he’s seeing right now.
“How long have you been standing there?” Kaveh has the good sense to ask, first.
“Long enough.” Alhaitham sounds a little … far away, heavy. Kaveh can’t explain it. “I took your keys by mistake, so came back.”
“Oh.” Shit. “Did you. … hear anything?”
“Mm.”
Kaveh looks down at the sink, flushed. “Okay, new question,” he whispers, cheeks a cute pink as his breathing alternates between wildly untamed and calm. “Do you think I’m not an alpha?”
“You’re dripping wet,” Alhaitham notes with surgical precision, closer, suddenly. “And you smell like roses,” he says, this time quieter, this time near Kaveh’s ear.
Kaveh’s eyes remain firmly shut, head dipped down. “Do I usually not smell like that?”
“You don’t smell at all,” Alhaitham murmurs, closer, closer. “Did you stop taking your suppressants?”
“Well, about that,” whispers Kaveh, clutching the sink as he feels a hand ghosting over his bare hip. “I did stop taking them, the alpha ones.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t be dense!” Kaveh whines just around the time a firm hand is on his hip. He takes it upon himself to twirl around, staring into the heady eyes of his roommate who he went through all of this hell for, and who he would gladly do so for again and again. “I was an alpha, a great one, mind you! Better than you! But then I … got bored of it, I guess you could say. And now I’m going to be the best omega there is, since that’s what’s happening here.”
Alhaitham quirks a brow. “The best omega, how would someone even judge that?”
Kaveh knows he’s saying absurd things but he’s riding a high of bliss, pain and Alhaitham’s scent that’s making him want to cling to the man.
“Take this seriously!” Kaveh snaps back but then feels a warm hand cupping his cheek. He blinks. “Alhaitham?”
“I heard you calling my name,” Alhaitham says, voice dropping an octave as he stares at Kaveh’s lips. “How did you manage to change yourself?”
“It wasn’t easy,” grumbles Kaveh, avoiding eye contact and feeling his pulse pick up speed again. “But I guess it worked? The pills or the, you know,” he says, loosely waving the sex toy around at his side.
Alhaitham seems to be putting together at a snail’s pace, but like the tortoise and the hare, slow and steady seems to be king. “I see.”
Splendid, romantic, perfect, just what Kaveh wanted him to say after finding him fucking himself in a bathroom with a toy and gasping his name.
“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, this time touched with something warmer. “Did you… do all of this, for some reason?”
“Some reason,” echoes Kaveh, flushing, rolling his eyes, as he dares to set the toy down on the sink behind himself and drape his arms around his roommate’s neck. “Some reason that isn’t over four years in the making and an alpha who was going to be seduced by some cheeky omega if I hadn’t made this huge sacrifice.”
Alhaitham snorts. “That’s one dramatic way of putting it.”
Kaveh pouts as he draws himself closer, carefully, pressing their foreheads together. It’s a little awkward, having his hard cock press to Alhaitham’s very clothed body, but Alhaitham hasn’t shied away yet.
“Is it working?” Kaveh whispers, sounding afraid for the first real time so far. “If you don’t want me, and I misread all of this, us, then you can just — tell me, it’s fine.”
“Mm.” Alhaitham is doing that infuriating thing again where he isn’t using his words. Kaveh wants to snarl at him, but he’s momentarily distracted by the sensation of a hand skimming down his bare hip, towards the gap of his thighs and —
“Ah,” Kaveh breathes out, airy.
Alhatiham’s index finger traces Kaveh’s enflamed hole, the muscles puckering for just a moment before they seem to suck in the tip. And Alhaitham lets it happen, sliding in his finger to the first and then second knuckle, Kaveh’s slick aiding in the process at this angle.
“Oh, archons,” Kaveh groans, just one finger and Alhaitham’s scent driving him mad.
“You’re beautiful,” Alhaitham tells him, in earnest. “You didn’t have to do all this, just to be with me,” he says, this time in a whisper, this time sounding more vulnerable than Kaveh has ever heard him. Accordingly, the man pushes his middle finger inside of Kaveh.
“I know that,” Kaveh says, though his heart soars at the confirmation. “But now… now you can, you know, not have to date or mate with anyone else and I -” He cuts himself off with a sharp moan.
And that moan is cut off by a pair of lips warmly descending upon his own.
Things go quickly, after that. Alhaitham somehow manages to undo his belt and slacks and wrestle his hard cock free all while urging Kaveh up on the edge of the sink. Their mouths continue to slam together, wet and sloppy, tasting something they both evidently had been seeking silently for years. Only after Alhaitham has gotten three fingers inside of Kaveh does he replace his hand with the wet head of his cock.
Kaveh, again, sees stars.
“Shit, you’re big,” Kaveh grunts as he curls his arms possessively around Alhaitham’s shoulders, swearing it’s just for the sake of balance.
Alhaitham has the audacity to chuckle as he begins to slowly thrust inside of Kaveh. With each thrust, Kaveh can begin to smell him better: cedar, with the smell of fresh rain on grass, a smoky undertone buried beneath all that. With each kiss, Kaveh can feel his body relent more and more to Alhaitham, recognizing their compatibility on a hormonal level, finally.
At some point, Kaveh locks his ankles behind Alhaitham’s back. He’s never been with a man before, has barely given a blow job, but he’s glad to have his first time being fucked in their shared bathroom with Alhaitham pouring kiss after kiss on his mouth.
And that’s the best part, Kaveh thinks, because Alhaitham didn’t need to kiss him, if he was just turned on from the smell of a desperate omega. There was no need for Alhaitham to be so gentle, so clear-minded, so fucking perfect.
Kaveh almost asks Alhaitham to yank his hair, to mark him and claim him and mate them for good, but he finds himself simply enjoying the moment too much.
When they come, Kaveh a bit sad that it’s not with Alhaitham’s knot inside of him, all goes still. Quiet.
Kaveh swears he can feel Alhaitham’s heartbeat in his fingertips that he’s tracing down each bump of Kaveh’s spine. Romantic bastard, how dare he be perfect in this regard, too?
“We should, probably talk,” Kaveh suggests, feeling fear grip at him as he comes down from his second orgasm of the day.
“Later,” Alhaitham decides, moving to brush his lips against the curve of Kaveh’s neck.
“What do you mean later?” Kaveh gasps a moan.
“Later, in bed,” Alhaitham explains, bit by bit, as he moves his arms to circle tightly at Kaveh’s waist.
“Y-you want to go again?! Already?! Shouldn’t we…”
Alhaitham silences him with a kiss.
(And Kaveh thinks, maybe, Alhaitham has wanted this for just as long, just as badly, that he doesn’t think words are needed when actions can speak so, so much louder.)
(And even if Alhaitham doesn’t mate him immediately, or that night, or that week, Kaveh can see it in his eyes when they make eye contact, as bright as day: Thank you.)
(Maybe it should have never come as a surprise that the sun would find its moon, one way or another, in the milky twilight hours.)