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Kaveh wakes up in a cold sweat.
He shivers, his skin all too aware of the still air in the room around him. A bead of perspiration rolls slowly down the bridge of his nose from where his bangs are matted and stuck to his forehead. Somehow his body still feels hot, despite the chill—except for the one leg that’s left beneath his blankets and bent haphazardly towards the center of the bed. His hip creaks as he moves it, telling him that he must have been lying in that position for a long enough while for his joint to be this difficult to reset.
He gathers the bedding he had strewn away and pulls it around the rest of him, attempting to regulate his temperature. His efforts are only somewhat successful; the curtains rustle from a lazy breeze blowing in through the cracked-open window and the room feels slightly cooler. It’s still dark behind the glass, so it must be early, but the blankets are too stuffy and oppressive for him to sleep anymore. He kicks them upwards, though not fully away—but just off his legs for a moment, hoping that letting some of the fresher air underneath will allow him to be comfortable enough to doze back off.
He knows that wherever he was before this was much better than here, now. He was somewhere much nicer than his boring old bedroom at a predawn hour on a day that he wasn’t well enough rested for, and he wanted to go back there.
When he closes his eyes again, the images of his dream briefly flash across the back of his eyelids. They’re blurry, and fading fast, mixing into strange combinations of colors and feelings. He tries to remember what he can, while he can, but finds himself struggling to piece together the parts. It wasn’t particularly important or pressing, not like those times he awoke with a design idea he knew he just had to record before it was completely lost, but he had a strange feeling that there was something he really did not want to forget about this one.
He remembers something brushing against his skin, along his arms, his waist, his hips. He remembers a warm wetness on his inner thighs, tracing circles and shapes in its path. He remembers being held but also being moved, and a hard smooth surface on his back, and a pressure that envelopes more than just the outside of his body, but somehow the inside too.
Oh, and Alhaitham.
He remembers Alhaitham.
Alhaitham was there, in this dream, and that rather inconvenient fact allows him to link together more of the disjointed details and fill in a few of the ones that are still missing. Some images sharpen and match up with corresponding sensations, others strengthen and intensify. He opens his eyes again, somewhat involuntarily this time, as they widen with the realization of what he’s done—and had done to him in this dream.
And then he closes them again, tightly, when it hits him that he has awoken from this dream utterly and painfully hard.
He definitely won’t fall back asleep now, not like this, not while he was excruciatingly aware of the arousal coursing through his veins (and its rather inconvenient source). So he slips his hand underneath the waistband of his pants, seeking just a tiny bit of relief. He gasps at the contact, and then immediately bites his lip—he just needs the smallest amount of pressure to scratch the itch. And if his fingers were just a bit thicker, stained with ink and rough from handling parchment all day…
Oh, this was going to be a problem.
It wasn’t the first time he had dreamt of such things, or woken up in desperate need of a hand (or a cold shower). When they first began after the Akasha system was shut down, his dreams were vague and shapeless, gradually becoming clearer and broader as the months had gone by. They’d consist of all sorts of random amalgamations of experiences and memories, so it was only natural that they’d veer into a somewhat risqué territory on some nights. He wasn’t ashamed of his wandering subconscious or the bodily reactions that followed along with it. And he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself whichever way was best in those situations and carrying on with his day afterwards.
But never had those dreams included Alhaitham. Never were they about Alhaitham. And never could he face Alhaitham again if he spent the morning getting himself off to a sex dream clearly centered around him.
So a cold shower it would be, once he was certain he could stand upright and make it to the bathroom without being caught. It was early enough, especially considering Alhaitham’s tendency to sleep in on days that he wasn’t needed at the Akademiya. But even he could be awoken by a thump against the thin walls, a fact which Kaveh had been reminded of on a multitude of late nights in which he had stumbled in the hallway due to a lack of sleep or an excess of alcohol or a combination of both. Yes, he needed to get there silently, and carefully, so he could wash away all thoughts of Alhaitham, and his hands, and his tongue, and his co—
Down the drain with it all.
Except even after a shower so frigid it feels scalding, he can’t escape the images still in his mind. They linger on the edge of his vision, sneaking in if he lets his eyes unfocus. He’s able to dress, at least, and brush and braid his hair with fingers that are shakier than they should be, but the possibility of him being able to maintain any sort of composure once he was no longer alone was slim. At this point, he can only hope that he can build a good enough facade to cover up the agitation that plagues him, or that he can find a way to chalk it up to insomnia, or stress, or anything besides his fucking dream.
His first encounter with Alhaitham is in the kitchen, preparing coffee. Kaveh has seen him do this task a thousand times before, but this is the first time he notices how fastidious his fingers are as they open the bag of beans. It’s like it all happens in slow motion—they move so carefully along the top of the bag as he undoes the folds keeping it shut. There’s nothing particularly erotic about any of it, but he’d never deigned to think about what else those fingers could do before this, so the simple display of dexterity is enough to send his mind spiraling again.
And then Alhaitham dips one inside the opening to pull the edges of the bag apart and Kaveh shivers so suddenly and violently that he covers his face in disbelief. Mostly at the fact that he just reacted so viscerally to such an innocuous action, and also because if he watches Alhaitham hold the bag to his face and hum in satisfaction at the scent, he might need to leave the room immediately and take another shower.
The gritty sounds of the beans grinding are harsh enough that he thinks he’s safe to rest his own hands on the table, a perfect picture of poise. It grounds him, he thinks—and surely if he’s able to make a pun that Cyno would be proud of, he must be finding his way back to reality. But then he ends up grasping them together with so much strain that his knuckles turn white once he notices the grip Alhaitham has around the grinder, and how he twists it slightly with each turn of the hand crank, and he’s hopelessly lost once again.
When Alhaitham brings him a freshly brewed cup, Kaveh lifts up both of his bloodless hands, not trusting himself to hold it steady enough not to spill. This is a mistake, he finds quickly, because it means that while one hand grabs onto the handle, the other brushes against where Alhaitham still holds it. He flinches and would have actually dropped it if not for the fact that Alhaitham hadn’t let go yet, but this only prolongs the contact he has with the fingers he had briefly but quite recently imagined wrapped around his cock less than an hour ago.
At least he doesn’t have to see Alhaitham again until lunch. Not that he gets much done in those hours alone; he pushes his pencil around pointlessly, drawing shapeless doodles in the margins of the research paper he’s supposed to review. It’s hard not to let his mind wander in the silence of the room, and even the work that he usually finds compelling does little to distract him from his distractions. He fears that this lack of focus will go on forever, at least until he figures out a way to get whatever this is out of his system—he hopes that one good night of dreamless sleep will do the trick.
Because watching Alhaitham eat certainly wouldn’t.
Alhaitham has chosen a peach for an appetizer, one of Kaveh’s most favorite fruits, but he doubts he’ll be able to eat one again after seeing how Alhaitham approaches his snack. He doesn’t find a knife to cut it into slices, like any reasonable person would; instead, he stares at it hungrily while turning it around in his hand before taking a generous bite out of the center. As any reasonable person could have predicted, this results in an almost immediate release of juices from the center of the fruit, which Alhaitham is forced to slurp up quickly and sloppily before they spill all over his face. Even when he wraps his tongue around the bottom to catch the excess, he still manages to let some of the wetness dribble out of the corner of his mouth as he sucks out what he can.
Kaveh tries as best he can to drown out the sounds by scraping his fork against his plate, but no amount of screechy cacophony can prevent him from hearing Alhaitham’s quiet moans of delight as he continues to lick the sweetness off his fingers. He has half a mind to wonder if Alhaitham knew, somehow… if he was somehow aware of the dream Kaveh had had, and was doing this all on purpose. But that wouldn’t make any sense at all; Alhaitham could not read minds. Sure, stranger things had happened in the nation over the years, but even after all of it Alhaitham was just an ordinary man—who was now apparently incredibly passionate and enthusiastic about eating peaches.
Spending his afternoon working quietly with Alhaitham in the main room of the house couldn’t be any worse than the rest of his day had been. He had to finish this scale drawing eventually, and at least this way he can keep an eye on him, or rather—mostly an ear, since Kaveh’s desk faces the wall. Which actually, that was better, because this way he didn’t have to watch Alhaitham do anything at all. And it’s better that he has to stand to work at this desk, too, because if he was seated he’d be that much more restless without an easy excuse for moving around. Here he can expend at least a small amount of energy each time he has to lean forward to trace a line at the top of the page, or when he steps back to take a wider look at his entire work so far, and his jitteriness is not as obvious as it would be if he was noisily tapping his foot against the leg of a chair.
If he turns his head towards the corner of the room a bit more, he won’t be able to see the way Alhaitham scans the bookshelves for something to read, running a bent finger along the spines of each text as he reviews their titles and contributing authors. Kaveh has his own things to work on, and they’re much more pressing than listening to Alhaitham reach for a book that’s been left on a high shelf, that apparently requires him to exert so much effort to grab it that he has to grunt softly as he strains—and then complete that exercise by sighing loudly when he finally gets it, so content with himself as he goes to find a spot on the divan to settle into.
Somehow, amidst all of that noise, Kaveh manages to finish his drawing. He’s left with only some edits to a blueprint that’s too wide to fit on his desk, so he moves to work at the large table in the center of the room. Alhaitham looks up from his book to watch as Kaveh pushes aside a stray cup and an empty plate, unfurling the large roll of paper across the surface.
Kaveh holds one corner with his palm as he reaches for a spare book to weigh down the opposite edge. It’s just out of his reach, but he doesn’t want to let go and let the paper roll back up while he walks around the table to get it. He considers breaking his unintentional vow of silence to ask Alhaitham to grab it, but before he can, he feels a warm body at his back. And then a slight pressure as Alhaitham leans into him, holding the corner he’d been struggling with and allowing him to jump slightly to reach the book.
And just like that, his blueprint problem is solved, but he’s left now with a much larger one.
Because Alhaitham hasn’t moved.
Kaveh clears his throat, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Alhaitham’s eyes are focused on the blueprint, scanning the diagrams and figures that cover it. His brow is slightly furrowed, his lips curled in a faint frown. The bottom one sticks out further than the top, shining from the light of the chandelier in the center of the room.
Kaveh clears his throat again.
That finally seems to be enough to break Alhaitham from his trance. He steps back and Kaveh breathes for the first time in what feels like hours.
Alhaitham doesn’t go very far, though. When Kaveh turns around, he’s already staring him down, his arms crossed over his chest while he stands back on one cocked hip.
“Are you okay?” Alhaitham asks, with an amount of concern Kaveh didn’t expect.
“Yes,” Kaveh snaps—unconvincingly, judging by Alhaitham’s unchanged stance.
“You’ve been acting strange all day.”
“I’m fine.” Kaveh crosses his own arms defensively after waving a hand around the room at the work he’s spent the evening struggling to focus on. “Busy.”
It’s still not enough for Alhaitham. “Is something wrong?”
Yes, Kaveh thinks. “No,” Kaveh says.
“Do you need anything?”
Yes. “No.”
“Did I do something?”
“Yes.”
Oh, no.
His desperate hope that Alhaitham didn’t hear him is quickly dashed when he narrows his eyes. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” Kaveh says quickly, backtracking. He leans against the table now, attempting to look casual, but the nervous drumming of his fingers against the edge gives him away.
“You just said I did something,” Alhaitham says, not caring that he clearly wasn’t supposed to know. “What was it?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why not?”
Kaveh groans under his breath, knowing Alhaitham has no intention of letting this go now. “Because I’m not going to.”
“How am I supposed to do anything about whatever I did if you don’t tell me what it was?”
“As if you would.” Kaveh holds back a derisive laugh. “Besides, you didn’t actually do anything, so it doesn’t actually matter.”
“Then why did you say I did?” Alhaitham frowns. “You’re not making sense.”
Kaveh huffs. “It was just a dream, okay?”
“A dream,” Alhaitham echoes, his tone shifting slightly.
“Yes, a dream.” Just a silly little inconsequential dream that has left Kaveh roiling for most of the day. “Do you see now why it’s nothing you need to worry about?”
Alhaitham is quiet for a moment, but his eyes don’t stray from Kaveh’s face. The rest of him doesn’t move either, and it’s left Kaveh trapped against the table; even if he isn’t actually touching him, he’s still close enough that it would be difficult to pass by without brushing shoulders or sides or more. Kaveh wants to get back to work, he needs to—but just when he thinks he’s safe to return his attention to his blueprint even if Alhaitham does insist on standing there, he follows up with another question.
“What did I do in this dream?”
“Well,” Kaveh says indignantly, worn down by Alhaitham’s persistence. “I was just trying to have a conversation with you and then you went and grabbed my chin while I was speaking and—”
“Like this?” Alhaitham leans forward in one fluid motion and does exactly that, holding his head still with only his thumb and a forefinger.
Kaveh freezes, biting back a gasp. He hopes Alhaitham doesn’t notice the way his heartbeat begins to race, but the grin growing across his face suggests otherwise.
“What happened next?” Alhaitham asks, his voice lower.
Kaveh’s silence tells Alhaitham all he needs to know.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh, I see. It was that kind of dream.”
Alhaitham lets go of his chin then, leaving Kaveh’s face upturned slightly before he remembers he can lower it himself.
“Interesting.” Alhaitham pauses, stepping back to pace in the small space between the divan and table. “So what did happen next?”
“Some other details that really aren’t all that important, and then we—” Kaveh coughs awkwardly, leaving his throat scratchy. “You know.”
“No, actually, I don’t,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh almost believes that he actually doesn’t.
Kaveh’s voice gets smaller. “Fucked.”
Alhaitham stops in his tracks, looking up. “That’s all?”
“Well, no.”
“But that’s all you’re going to tell me.” It’s a statement, but still a question.
Kaveh narrows his eyes. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to know more.”
“Curiosity,” Alhaitham says simply.
And well—Kaveh is curious too, infuriatingly so. Even if he spent the entire day avoiding the thought, he knows well enough that there was plenty he’d like to know about the real Alhaitham. Starting with those things he’d only experienced inside his mind—he wouldn’t mind experiencing them for himself.
As for the fact that speaking even the smallest detail aloud led Alhaitham to recreate it so eagerly—he’s not entirely convinced that this isn’t just some exhaustion-fueled fever dream during an unintentional nap on the divan that he’d awake from all groggy and uncomfortable. It was confusing enough to be one of those, at least. He clenches his fist, digging his nail into his palm, hoping that the shot of pain might rouse him if he had somehow fallen asleep again and never realized it.
Even after a few moments of charged silence, nothing happens to change what he sees in front of him. Alhaitham still stands there, ever so patient, waiting for him to continue.
Kaveh lets his fist loosen, and nothing changes then, either.
“And if I tell you,” Kaveh says slowly, still conscious of the spot on his chin Alhaitham had touched earlier. He hesitates now, because Alhaitham didn’t hesitate before, which has left him with a dangerous sort of hope. “Are you going to do what I say you did?”
“I could.”
“You… could.”
“If you want me to.”
“Ah.” Kaveh waits one short beat. “I do.”
“Oh?”
“For the sake of curiosity, of course.” That was Alhaitham’s primary motivator—it could be his, too. “That’s all this is, right?”
“If you say so.” Alhaitham seems closer, now, even though he hasn’t moved. “Then tell me, Kaveh.”
“Well then.” Kaveh inhales sharply through his nose. “As I was saying, I was talking and you grabbed my chin, and—” Alhaitham nods in understanding—he’s heard this part before. “You held me there and leaned forward and whispered something in my ear.”
“What did I say?”
“I mean, it won’t make much sense outside of the context of the rest of the dream.” Alhaitham stares at him attentively, blinking, making it clear that he still expects to hear the rest. “We were talking about food, and I guess we had just eaten dinner and I was trying to convince you to help me make some fatteh for dessert. But then you interrupted me, and you said…” It feels foolish to say more, especially aloud, but he’s in too deep at this point. “I’d rather have you for dessert.”
“Let’s see.” Alhaitham moves to stand with his legs spread, his hips squared up with his shoulders like he’s finding his mark in a play. “Like this?”
He takes Kaveh’s chin in his hand again, his thumb resting just below his lower lip. He reaches around Kaveh to rest his other hand on the table, caging him in. The action is nice enough—great, really—but the words… he doesn’t expect they’ll have much effect at all, not since Kaveh’s told him exactly what to say.
Alhaitham takes a short breath next to his ear.
“I’d rather have you for dessert.”
And with that, Kaveh is proven devastatingly wrong.
Because he finds out very quickly that it isn’t about the actual words at all—Alhaitham could have recited an instruction manual in a different language, for all Kaveh cared, if he’d said it with the same amount of heat as he did just now. Even the dullest book in the entire library would have made his knees melt and his stomach dip if Alhaitham’s lips were brushing against his ear as he read it. He could have said a line even cheesier and it would’ve worked impressively effectively as long as he said it just like that.
Alhaitham pulls away, returning to face Kaveh. He smirks when he sees the effect his words have had on him: the blush he feels warming his cheek, the slight part of his lips, the slouch in his shoulders that makes him lean closer.
Kaveh clears his throat, recentering himself. That portion of this exercise might have been unfortunately informative, but he can’t let one silly little sentence throw him off like this, not when he has so much left to explain. Perhaps it was best that he’d have no reason to speak to him like that after this, otherwise Kaveh would never be able to get anything done ever again.
“After that, you… I was sitting on the table.” Kaveh takes a breath. “Well, you put me on it.”
“Did I?”
Kaveh nods. Alhaitham looks him down and up, as if considering how best to carry out his instructions, and Kaveh can’t help but notice where his gaze lingers.
Alhaitham begins by placing his hands on Kaveh’s waist, sliding them down to his hips and then shifting them back and around. He stays there for a moment, palms resting atop the curve of his ass, before moving down further. Holding him by the back of his thighs, he lifts him upwards enough so that Kaveh can do the rest.
“Yeah, uh.” Kaveh swallows. “Like that.”
He shifts in his seat, wondering how he’s going to get through this if he’s already this flustered just from that comparatively small amount of contact. He’s still alert enough to realize that he’s ended up directly on top of his work, though—so he leans forward a small amount, resting one hand on Alhaitham’s shoulder. It lets him lift off the table enough to push the blueprint out of the way with the other; it falls off the surface and onto the floor for him to deal with later.
“What next?” Alhaitham asks when Kaveh settles back in place, patiently insistent.
He can’t stall any longer—there’s nothing else to do but say it, now.
“You sucked me off.”
Alhaitham has been nothing but willing so far, but Kaveh still expects him to yield—except Alhaitham doesn’t hesitate at all.
“And how did I do that?” he asks, stoically as ever.
“Well, you took my pants off first, obviously.”
“All the way?”
Alhaitham’s attention to detail is admirable; it also makes Kaveh blush more deeply than he already has. “Yes.”
“Good. We wouldn’t want them to get in the way.” How practical of him, too. “What about your shirt?”
“No, I—you kept it on,” Kaveh clarifies. He is intrigued by the idea of sitting fully bare before a fully clothed Alhaitham—judging by the twinge in his core, he might even find the thought rather evocative—but he did distinctly remember the texture of his shirt rubbing against his skin during the dream. “Just the pants.”
“Let me take care of that, then.”
Alhaitham takes his time as he does, dipping one finger underneath the waistband at the front of Kaveh’s pants. It’s unclear why he’s being so slow about it—he might be waiting to see if Kaveh will stop him, or purposefully trying to tease him—either way, Kaveh holds as still as he can. Alhaitham slides that finger around his hips until he’s made it to Kaveh’s back, where he slips the rest of his hand under and cups the curve of his ass.
His other hand joins the first and he lets his wrists drag the fabric downward until the table interrupts him. He lifts Kaveh slightly there, just enough to slide his pants underneath and out of the way. Once the garment is free, Kaveh sits back down, the varnished wood smooth against his skin.
Kaveh’s breath catches—he’s exposed then, to the cool air of the room. Alhaitham raises his brows at the sight, all too perceptive; he surely notices the way Kaveh’s cock rests hard and ruddy against his thighs. Even still, he locks eyes with Kaveh as he pulls the fabric further, over his knees and down to his ankles. He holds Kaveh’s calf as he slips one pant leg over his foot, and then the other, tossing them to the side without paying attention to where they fall.
It’s a miracle Kaveh hasn’t melted into the table; there’s a burning in Alhaitham’s eyes that makes his bones feel like jelly. Every one of his synapses seems to fire all at once, making his skin tingle—he grips the cold, hard edge in an attempt to ground himself.
“Then what?” Alhaitham uses his knee to nudge Kaveh’s legs open just enough to stand between them. “And be specific,” he says before Kaveh can answer. “I want to make sure I do this right.”
Kaveh takes a deep breath. “You were kneeling.”
“Kneeling,” Alhaitham repeats, following his instructions when Kaveh confirms with a nod, lowering himself so he’s level with Kaveh’s cock. He drags Kaveh slightly forward, to reach him better, letting his legs fall open and spread further apart. Alhaitham looks up at him as he waits to hear what’s next, so attentive that Kaveh could almost believe he actually was eager to find out.
“You—you started at my knee.” Kaveh feels his joint twitch in anticipation of his touch as he says it. “You kissed me there, on the inside of my thigh, and then with your tongue you…”
He trails off, waiting to see if Alhaitham fills in the rest. He’s at least heard enough to begin, judging by the way he presses his lips to the spot Kaveh had specified, leaving a sloppy open-mouthed kiss there before moving on. And up, and up, and up he goes, his tongue leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind as he gets closer to Kaveh’s core.
Alhaitham slows before he reaches his cock, focusing his efforts on the inside of his upper thigh. Kaveh had lost track of Alhaitham’s hands when he began, but he feels them now as his arm wraps around his leg. His teeth, too—they brush against his skin as he holds him closer, hard enamel blending with the soft wetness of his lips. He’s sure Alhaitham didn’t mean to offer such a tantalizing suggestion, but—
“You can—ah—” Kaveh catches himself when a small amount of suction threatens to make him moan. “You can leave a mark there.”
“You said that differently, this time,” Alhaitham notices, humming thoughtfully. The vibration spreads over his skin. “It makes me wonder if you just came up with that on the spot.”
Kaveh won’t say.
“Not that it matters if you did,” Alhaitham muses. “I’d like to do it anyway.”
His mouth is too busy to explain whatever that’s supposed to mean, then, busy sucking in a bruise on a spot so sensitive it makes Kaveh’s toes curl—as if Alhaitham would even be able to ask for further clarification while he works so diligently to ensure he’s left behind enough physical evidence to prove his presence there. He nips at his thigh too, gently but firmly, his teeth leaving behind a trace that will haunt Kaveh longer than the mark will. After, he soothes the skin with his tongue, a warm caress contrasting with the rawness beneath it.
And then he moves to Kaveh’s other thigh, for good and cruel measure, repeating the pattern until his legs tremble.
Alhaitham leans back slightly to admire his careful but asymmetrical work, running a thumb over a spot that’s already beginning to dapple. He looks reverent, or proud, or hungry, or maybe a mix of everything—but whichever it is, it’s a look Kaveh is certain he’ll remember whenever Alhaitham visits his dreams next.
After a few moments of quiet, Alhaitham directs his attention elsewhere—to Kaveh’s cock, heavy and neglected. His expression shifts back to one of curiosity as he assesses just how aroused Kaveh has become from his efforts so far. He traces him with gentle fingers, a subtle touch that barely even makes contact, but still Kaveh flinches.
“What about this?” Alhaitham asks in a lowered voice. “How did I touch you here?”
Kaveh exhales through his nose—the more Alhaitham explores, even absentmindedly, the more he sabotages any chance of Kaveh being able to narrate any sort of coherent instructions. “I’m not sure what you want me to say—”
“Let me guess, then,” Alhaitham says, like it’s a test he intends to pass.
“Go for—ohhh—”
Alhaitham’s touch turns firm, then, holding him at his base, and this time Kaveh can’t stop himself from letting out a broken moan when he places his tongue flat against his length. He’s slow as he brings it up towards his tip, one languid lick along his underside while his hand holds him steadily upright.
Alhaitham pulls away, but not far enough—his breath still brushes over the sensitive skin on Kaveh’s cock. “Did I do that?”
“Yes,” Kaveh replies, his voice breathy. A coincidence, surely, or something obvious enough that anybody might try that move first.
Alhaitham adjusts his hand, tilting his wrist so that the flat of his palm presses along as much of Kaveh’s cock as it can. It lets him use his tongue to repeat the motion again, following a vein this time, before finishing with a sloppy kiss atop his crown.
“What about that?”
“Mmhmm.” Close enough, at least—even better if he did it again.
Alhaitham takes his chances on a few more things, with a fair amount of success—he guesses correctly that once a bead of precum forms at his tip, he’d run his tongue along his slit to gather it, before licking his lips with such contentment that it makes Kaveh’s cheeks burn. And that he’d let his mouth rest for a time, too, using just his hands to stroke up and down his length. All that before returning to his licks and kisses and gentle sucks, each more assured than the last.
At a certain point Kaveh isn’t sure if he’s actually remembering his dream, or just responding to what feels good—Alhaitham doesn’t seem to care either way, grinning each time Kaveh says he’s done something right and grinning wider each time Kaveh is too feverish to say anything at all.
After an amount of teasing that leaves Kaveh hazy, Alhaitham moves on to actually take him into his mouth. Slowly at first, as if to wordlessly gauge Kaveh’s reaction. He presses him against the inside of his cheek, a sensation that makes Kaveh look down—a dangerous choice, because now he sees the outline of his tip stretching Alhaitham’s skin as he drags along it and his eyes begin to water as they widen.
After smiling around him, Alhaitham slides off his cock, gazing up thoughtfully.
“Did I take all of you?”
Kaveh can only nod in response, especially since Alhaitham’s next move is to wrap his lips around the crown of his cock, sucking lightly before he moves lower. He pauses every so often to moisten his length with his tongue, breathing through his nose as he takes him in deeper until his tip butts against the back of his throat.
Alhaitham can’t ask any more of his clarifying questions now, not with his mouth entirely occupied with his cock, but for better or for worse—he can moan. Generously and clearly, even though the sound is muffled. Kaveh feels it all along his length, shuddering at the sensation, and Alhaitham sucks harder in response.
After another moment there he drags his head back, and just when Kaveh thinks he’s going to let go too soon, he bobs his head back down before repeating the motion once more. Kaveh wants to match the movement, to buck into the tight wet heat of his throat, and when Alhaitham’s hands squeeze the sides of his hips he thinks he might be encouraging him to do so.
Kaveh feels it building up deep in his core as his breathing becomes more labored; his legs wrap around Alhaitham’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back. And then he brings one hand to cup the back of Alhaitham’s head, grasping at the hairs at the nape of his neck, uncertain if he’s going to wrench him away or hold him closer—
Alhaitham decides for him, pulling off Kaveh with a wet pop. “One more question,” he says, his voice hoarser than it was before. “Did you finish?”
He wants to. How badly he wants to. If he could just drag Alhaitham back to where he was he’d come right then and there, filling his mouth until it spilled out from where his lips were wrapped around his still throbbing cock—but Kaveh knows damn well that isn’t what happened.
He’d deviated from the script enough already, to encourage those marks Alhaitham is currently leaning against as he rests his cheek on Kaveh’s thigh, looking up through his lashes while he waits for a response. Anymore and they would actually just be—it would be different, then, so he lets go of Alhaitham’s hair, leaning back and away, hoping it might still the storm inside him.
“No, you… you stopped before I did.”
“Mmm, I can see why.” Alhaitham clears his throat. “You do look so pretty falling apart up there, but I think—I’d like to see you come while you’re wrapped around my cock.”
His bluntness catches Kaveh off guard, particularly after his reluctant reminder to himself of what they were here to do; he didn’t consider the possibility that Alhaitham would play his part too well, with enough conviction to make Kaveh think there could be a chance he was being honest. But even still—Kaveh would rather like to see that too, if Alhaitham still wanted to play along.
“Is that what happens next?” Alhaitham asks, urging Kaveh out of his own head.
“Yes, but I’m…” Kaveh shifts in his seat. “Not… ready.”
“And is that something I did for you?” Alhaitham asks, because of course he does.
“Yes.”
Alhaitham raises his brows. “This was a rather extensive dream, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t think time really works the same way in them…?” Kaveh isn’t particularly interested in dream theory, though—he’d prefer to get started on these preparations.
“I don’t mean the length of it so much as the amount of detail—”
Kaveh huffs, frowning, since Alhaitham has apparently forgotten how to do anything else with his hands while he’s talking. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Yes, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, bemused by his urgency. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“We just… well, actually, the oil just materialized out of nowhere in the dream, I guess, but—”
“Right.” Alhaitham stands, brushing his palms against his knees. “I’ll be right back.”
He leaves Kaveh there for a moment, still sitting half-bare on the table. His legs swing beneath him—he’s tempted to press his palm against himself, anything to keep up the sensation, especially since he doesn’t know how long Alhaitham will take. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found something else to do along the way, just to keep him waiting. Kaveh could end this now if he needed to, though not that he wanted to—
But Alhaitham returns before he can do anything, a small bottle in his hand, and Kaveh can’t help but find himself surprised.
“You had that at the ready,” he mutters, once Alhaitham is close enough to hear.
Alhaitham shrugs. “I have dreams too, you know.”
“About me?” Kaveh asks, before he realizes he shouldn’t.
“Take a guess, Kaveh.”
The thought sends a shiver down his spine—as well as the mere possibility of Alhaitham touching himself to the thought of him. It was dangerous to picture, when he had just been so close to the edge and could still feel the dampness left behind from Alhaitham’s mouth on his cock. And it was dangerous to think about what might have happened in those dreams, too, even if he was curious to know what it might be like if the tables were turned—if he was being directed, instead of doing the directing—as much as he was enjoying his current role now.
Maybe next time, if there was one, he could find out… but, he shouldn’t.
Kaveh straightens his shoulders, shaking away the thought, reminding himself where he is now: sitting pantsless in front of Alhaitham, who had not long ago had his lips wrapped around his cock, and who is currently absentmindedly investigating the contents of a vial of oil that he’ll soon be using to finger him before fucking him all because Kaveh let slip his silly little dream.
“Open it,” he instructs, more brashly than he means to be. “Get your fingers, you know. Slick.”
Alhaitham pours some into his palm, spreading it liberally over his skin. “And what will you do?”
“I, uh…” He scoots himself backwards slightly, leaning onto his forearms once he puts his arms behind him. His ass is fully on the table now, and it lets him bring his legs up, bending his knees so his feet can rest on the edge.
“You might need to, sorta—” He beckons Alhaitham forward, nodding when he comes closer. “Yeah, like that.”
Alhaitham manages to understand his sparse instructions, placing a hand on the underside of Kaveh’s thigh to roll his hips up and keeping it there in the crook of his knee. The muscles of Kaveh’s stomach crunch, but it gives Alhaitham the access he needs, even if he pretends not to find where he’s going at first. His oiled hand starts back on Kaveh’s cock, cupping the base of it, before he uses two fingers to trace lower.
Kaveh flinches when he finally reaches his hole, not prepared for the pressure. Alhaitham uses those two fingertips to circle it, spreading the oil around until they slip and slide easily.
“And what do I do now, Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s hand wanders lazily as he asks, directionless and roaming randomly.
Kaveh sucks in a breath between his teeth. “I think you know.”
“But what if I don’t?”
As if it wasn’t clear enough with Kaveh laying here, ass up, while Alhaitham continues to tease his rim. Kaveh knows he’s feigning ignorance, but it’s all a part of the game—Alhaitham won’t touch him until he tells him to.
“Use your fingers to—” Kaveh huffs, falling off his elbows and onto his back. “Finger me.”
Alhaitham presses against his hole, then. One finger slips in, just barely, just the tip, and Kaveh gasps—but then Alhaitham pulls back again.
Kaveh sits up again. “Do you really need me to tell you how to do this?” he asks, incredulous.
“No, you don’t.” Alhaitham laughs, a low rumble in his chest. “But tell me when you’re ready for more.”
“Now,” Kaveh says. “I’m ready now.”
“I’ll start with one, then.”
And he does—he slides a finger back into Kaveh, swirling it just around his rim until it stretches enough for him to push past his first knuckle. He can curl it, then, and tug slightly as he strokes along Kaveh’s walls.
Kaveh nearly forgets about the whole plan, then, distracted enough by the feeling of that one finger as it slides further inside with each press. Alhaitham can reach deeper now, leaning into the back of Kaveh’s thigh for better leverage. Eventually it’s so easy that Kaveh can barely feel the motion, only the sensation it leaves behind.
“Another one, please,” he says, surprised by the whine in his own voice, unsure if he’s instructing or begging and unsure if it matters either way.
Alhaitham obliges him without any questions this time, a second finger joining the first. He can scissor them now, spreading them to stretch him further. It gives him more to pull with, too, and to push with as he works him open—until he pauses and stills.
“You know, I just remembered,” Alhaitham says, as if this was a perfectly normal time to hold a casual conversation. “Is this why you almost dropped your coffee this morning?”
Kaveh doesn’t respond. He rolls his hips instead, hoping it will spur Alhaitham into action. It only slightly works—Alhaitham does move again, but somewhat absentmindedly, so Kaveh has to meet him halfway by sliding himself forward on the table.
This, Alhaitham notices, rewarding him with more of the pressure he seeks. A third finger presses against the outside of his rim as a tempting suggestion as the other two stroke along his walls, curling all too close to a spot that makes him squirm.
Alhaitham notices that, too. “All I did was pass you your cup, but—you were imagining my fingers inside you when your hand brushed against mine, weren’t you?”
“Y—maybe,” Kaveh mutters, cutting himself off reflexively, knowing full well it’s pointless to try to deny it when Alhaitham has already figured him out. (And he’s only partially correct, anyways, since Kaveh was technically thinking more about them wrapped around his cock at that point in time, which was, at the moment, entirely neglected.)
“How fascinating.” Alhaitham hums to himself, replaying the rest of the day in his head. “Oh, lunch must have been torture for you—where were you imagining my tongue?”
He knows Alhaitham has already figured that out, too, when his free hand reaches around to squeeze his ass.
“Another,” Kaveh mumbles, not trusting himself to say anything more.
Thankfully, Alhaitham understands the rest. He finds the oil again somewhere, letting it drip where his fingers meet Kaveh’s hole; the chill startles him, but it’s quickly warmed by Alhaitham’s touch.
“You could have told me then, Kaveh.” Alhaitham adjusts his hand, exhaling as he twists his way back inside. “I’d have fucked you on the kitchen floor.”
He didn’t know Alhaitham could talk like this—he didn’t know Alhaitham could think like this. About him, about them. It sends a tautness through him that threatens to snap.
“Oh, would you have liked that?” Alhaitham asks, even though the way Kaveh clenches around his fingers answers his question. “Funny, that was a dream I had last week.”
(Last week, when they’d cooked dinner together and the stove had somehow gotten turned up much too high in a mostly harmless accident. Last week, when Kaveh still thought Alhaitham’s eyes were widened in horror at the state of the extra layer of char on the vegetables, and not in hungry admiration of the way Kaveh’s shirt stuck to his skin in the excess heat of the room. Last week, when Kaveh didn’t know Alhaitham could see him like that, and want him like this—and how badly he wanted to be wanted.)
Kaveh manages to find his voice at the back of his throat. “What happened?” he asks, hoping to hear exactly how Alhaitham tore away those sweat-ridden clothes and took him against the tile, ready to fall into another fantasy before this one fades away.
“It’s not my turn to tell,” Alhaitham says simply.
Of course it wasn’t. This was Kaveh’s, and Kaveh was ready. He clears his throat. “Then take off your clothes.”
“All of them?” Alhaitham asks, his hands already grasping the hem of his shirt.
“Everything.”
His own shirt would stay, disheveled and awry—he wouldn’t want to block any of this view now, anyways. But sitting up to watch might have been a mistake; it leaves him all too aware of the emptiness Alhaitham’s fingers have left behind. Once it’s clear that there’s no need for him to provide more instructions for the moment, he finds the oil for himself, spreading some over his hands as Alhaitham steps out of his clothes.
And in his dream—he didn’t really get to see Alhaitham, not like this. At this point then he only remembered feelings, and sounds, and overwhelming bliss, but even his wildest imagination couldn’t have created a sight as sweet as this.
Because couldn’t have known how Alhaitham’s bare chest would shine in the light as it rose and fell, his breathing strained from restraint. Or how his hands would flex and his fingers curl as if they were still remembering how Kaveh felt inside. Or how his cock would stand ready between his legs, untouched and already leaking, clearly enough that Kaveh could tell from here. No, these were details he simply had to see for himself, even if he couldn’t fully believe they were real.
And when Alhaitham steps closer, Kaveh feels just how dire the situation is—Alhaitham flinches as he reaches for him, a stiff grunt escaping his lips. Kaveh only intends to spread the oil on his palms over his cock, really, but he finds himself unsure if he’ll be able to do it without Alhaitham finishing on his hands instead of inside him.
So he improvises, grasping him at the base to hold him off as best he can as he runs his other slick hand over his length. Quickly, efficiently. He doesn’t try to tease Alhaitham—even for his own sake, he really doesn’t think he can—not if he wants this dream to end how it actually did.
Kaveh lets go when he’s done, leaning back against the table again. It isn’t comfortable—his spine juts against the hard wooden surface and his shoulders tighten as he tries to hold his neck upwards to keep Alhaitham in view in the space between his knees—but he’ll forget all of that soon enough. But not yet—for now, he feels his hole clench around nothing as he angles his hips upwards. Even in the dim light of the room, he can see Alhaitham eyes darken at the sight.
“What now, Kaveh?” His questions remain pedantic, but his tone has shifted to something more insistent.
“Come here,” Kaveh replies. “Come closer.”
Alhaitham stands directly in front of him, nestled back between his legs. He rests Kaveh’s thighs against his chest, placing his hands on the table next to his suspended hips.
“Are you ready?” Kaveh asks, overwhelmed with his own anticipation.
“Tell me,” Alhaitham says, repeating the refrain he’d kept all evening. “Tell me what to do.”
Kaveh takes one more deep breath.
“Fuck me.”
He expects questions. Clarifications. Requests for instructions. But instead he’s met with focused silence while Alhaitham aligns his cock with his hole, pressing his tip against his rim. He holds himself there—with admirable restraint, Kaveh has to admit—only pushing himself inside when Kaveh nods.
Even when he’s just in past his crown, Kaveh already feels full; Alhaitham feels it too, his breathing heavy and brows strained. It’s an expression almost like the familiar focus he reserves for the subjects he finds most intriguing, but still different—like he’s studying what’s in front of him in an entirely new way, recording each reaction in the aisles of his memory.
Alhaitham’s silence persists as he presses himself deeper, needing no guidance now—or maybe it’s just that his own wants have finally overridden the need to pester Kaveh for directions at every turn. Whichever it is, Kaveh doesn’t mind either way, because both leave him free to savor the feeling as Alhaitham’s cock stretches him open further. His increasingly frantic nods are enough prompting for Alhaitham to continue, his satisfied sighs enough confirmation that he’s doing everything just right.
Or so he had thought, until Alhaitham stops for seemingly no other reason than to stare and Kaveh isn’t sure of anything anymore.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks with an impatient edge that falters when Alhaitham shifts slightly in his stance, moving inside him as he does.
Alhaitham’s gaze trails upwards, starting from the point where they meet. He places a hand on Kaveh’s stomach, as if he’d be able to feel himself beneath it; the other finds a place on the inside of Kaveh’s thigh after he wraps the rest of his arm around his leg. His eyes dart there, to the dappled designs he’d left earlier, before they follow the lines of his flushed chest until they meet Kaveh’s.
He smiles, then, his voice low. “Did I not take my time to appreciate just how well you’re taking me?”
Alhaitham’s words only tighten the coil in his core. He wonders why it should matter, whether Alhaitham did or didn’t, whether he followed the script of the dream or not, whether Kaveh could even remember any of it at all—did he remember? did he know anything else besides Alhaitham, here and now?—it’s impossible to think like this, when he feels Alhaitham throbbing inside him, impossible to think when he only really wants to hear Alhaitham’s voice leading him ever closer to the edge.
“Fine,” Kaveh concedes, once it’s clear that Alhaitham somehow still has the stamina to stay like this for at least a while longer, and once it’s clear that Kaveh doesn’t actually mind the admiration. “Just… keep talking.”
“But where should I start?” Alhaitham asks, pulling back. He’s lost most of his haughtiness from before; he sounds like he might not actually know where to begin, like he had that many options to consider and pick from. “With how good you’ve been for me, answering all my questions?”
“Good,” Kaveh echoes, his voice sounding less and less like his own. He wraps his legs around Alhaitham to encourage him to continue, digging his heels into his lower back as if he could push him in himself. Alhaitham responds in kind, bringing his hands to his hips to drag Kaveh further onto his cock.
“Just look at you, Kaveh.” Alhaitham’s gaze pans back down his body as if Kaveh would be able to see it through his eyes too. “You’re gorgeous when you’re greedy.”
He punctuates the praise with another jolt of his hips. It goes to Kaveh’s head, a fuzzy warmth that leaves him dizzy.
He wants that, again. “More,” Kaveh says under his breath.
“More?” Alhaitham exhales through his nose in a resigned laugh. “I can’t hold out very much longer, Kaveh.”
He could have fooled him. “Then don’t,” Kaveh quips—why did he need to, anymore? (Why did he need to, anymore?) Kaveh was ready, now, now that he could feel Alhaitham’s hips meet his ass with each thrust. Kaveh squeezes tighter with his legs, still wrapped around Alhaitham’s waist—he needs to feel that rhythm stutter, feel it break before he loses himself.
Alhaitham waits, each time, a little longer, now that he can hold himself fully inside. His grip on Kaveh’s hips tightens, nails digging into his flesh.
“Kaveh—”
“What, do you need me to say it first?” Kaveh asks, caring little about the desperation so plainly present in his question. “Just let go, then. Come for me, come in me—” He cycles through every phrase he can think of—he’d say it however he wanted to hear it, as long as he didn’t keep him waiting any longer. “Fill me u—”
“Fuck, Kaveh, I’m going to, just—”
Alhaitham cuts himself off, this time, catching Kaveh entirely off guard by wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him upwards. His legs fold against him as Alhaitham drags him forward to a point where he’s barely on the table at all anymore, mostly supported by Alhaitham’s arms as he sits on his cock.
His face is level with Alhaitham’s now, close enough that he can hear his next words clear as ever, even over the blood rushing in his ears.
“One more question,” he whispers. “Did I do this?”
He doesn’t have to wait to find out what this is. Alhaitham kisses him, softly at first, as if he’s still unsure if he should despite being pressed deep inside Kaveh’s ass. And then more confidently, once Kaveh leans into him to seek more, following his lips as they move against him.
His face is red when he pulls away, his heart beating somewhere in his throat.
“That wasn’t a part of the dream,” Kaveh says quietly, still stunned by a bit of the best kind of shock.
“Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” Kaveh shakes his head, smiling as he does. “Is that another question?”
Alhaitham blinks, clearly not keeping track. “Can I?”
He doesn’t know what Alhaitham is asking now—if he can kiss him again, maybe, or if he can finally come when it’s clear he so desperately wants to—but whichever the question is, Kaveh’s answer is absolutely yes.
He’ll remember this, and tenderness, and Alhaitham’s quiet gasps into his mouth as he comes inside him before he nips at Kaveh’s nose because he can’t aim well enough to kiss him properly when he’s in so much bliss. Kaveh brings his hands to Alhaitham’s cheeks, holding him there; this lets Alhaitham trace along his lips before pulling him closer.
Kaveh can still taste traces of himself from before on Alhaitham’s tongue, and it spurs him along further as he remembers how Alhaitham’s mouth felt around him; in some subconscious understanding, Alhaitham brings his hand back there, offering his palm as a substitute for his throat as he squeezes Kaveh’s cock. Alhaitham swallows Kaveh’s moan as he clenches around his length, sucking on his lower lip while he strokes Kaveh until he comes.
He collapses there, falling limp in Alhaitham’s arms. Alhaitham isn’t much better off—he stumbles backwards until his calves hit the divan, which he flops onto with Kaveh still in his lap.
It’s warm here, curled up against Alhaitham’s chest. Alhaitham flinches when he shimmies himself into a more comfortable position and Kaveh realizes he somehow managed to stay inside him the entire way from the table. He’d be more surprised if not for the fact that Alhaitham’s arms haven’t loosened one bit from where they held him; Kaveh didn’t want him to let go, either.
He could stay here forever, like this, but he’s begun to notice the clenched muscles of his shoulders and the ache in his back. Alhaitham slips out of him when he straightens his spine to roll his neck, grunting softly when he does, and Kaveh realizes he had closed his eyes as if to fall asleep just like this.
Alhaitham smiles when his eyes open, his palm slipping beneath Kaveh’s terribly wrinkled shirt to run along his sore back. It helps, but it doesn’t fix the budding cramp in his leg—or the stickiness on his skin.
“So,” Kaveh says, “since it’s your turn next. Could you pick a dream that took place on a bed?”
“Absolutely.” Alhaitham’s chest shifts when he huffs in sympathetic amusement. His arms slacken, but they don’t move away from where they’ve encircled Kaveh.
“Or anywhere soft, really,” Kaveh offers, in case that was still too presumptive. “I’m not picky.”
“That won’t be a problem at all.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve definitely done it in my bed,” Alhaitham confirms. “And yours.”
“Mine too?”
“I’ve had dreams about having you all over this house, Kaveh.” He says it like a confession, like he means to say more. “I’ve got plenty of material to work through.”
Kaveh wants to hear all of it. “Have you now?”
“Taking you over that desk you were leaning over earlier, for one.”
Kaveh looks over at the offending surface, where he’d been not long ago. He realizes something, then. “You do fall asleep while we’re working in here a lot, don’t you.”
Alhaitham nods, confirming his theory—that at least once Kaveh had been peacefully sketching away while Alhaitham was lost somewhere, fucking him in his own head. It makes his stomach twinge and his spent cock twitch in a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed, judging by the way Alhaitham looks over with contemplative eyes too, but his muscles scream silently before he can even think about maybe getting up and moving towards that desk in the corner.
Gods—how had Alhaitham ever done anything at all in this house, if just the thought of a thought has Kaveh reconsidering the potential use of every piece of furniture and how exactly they could best make a mess of them?
“There was that one in the kitchen that I already mentioned,” Alhaitham continues, as if he knows exactly where Kaveh’s mind is wandering now, “but that was on the floor. I don’t even know how we got there, but mmm—damn, did we make it work.”
Kaveh feels himself blush and wonders how he’s supposed to even get himself a glass of water now, knowing that. If there happened to be an increase in spills while he was in that room going forward—he was not the one to blame.
“Against the front door… I could barely wait for you to make it inside, that time. You’d have fallen onto the porch if the door opened the other way. I sure hope no one walks by on the street outside when we try that one.”
By the way Alhaitham hardens slightly against him when he squirms at the thought, Kaveh suspects he wouldn’t actually mind if anyone did, either.
“Let me think, where else. Oh, we broke a lamp, once. I was backed up against the bookshelves in the study and you—”
“How long has this gone on?” Kaveh asks, wondering how there can still be more.
“Since the very first night my dreams returned.” Alhaitham shrugs. “Not every single night, but often enough.”
It surprises him, somehow. “I—I didn’t know.”
“Well, I never told you,” Alhaitham says simply.
“True.” And Kaveh had no reason to expect him to, not before this. “And yet I couldn’t even make it through one day after mine without you finding out.”
“And look where that got us.” He squeezes Kaveh’s waist, looking down at where their limbs intertwined. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
Kaveh smiles—he suspects it’s because of similar reasons to his own, but he wants to know if he can be sure. “Why’s that?”
Alhaitham brings his hand to Kaveh’s chin again, resting his thumb beneath his lips, repeating the gesture that had started it all. “I don’t think I could have gone another day without showing you how much I want you.”
He pulls him forward for another kiss, then, his other hand finding purchase in the unruly knots of Kaveh’s hair. He could get lost in the way Alhaitham’s nails scrape against his scalp before sliding down to his neck, massaging the soreness away before moving onto a shoulder without ever letting his lips leave Kaveh’s. He melts into the feeling, melting into Alhaitham—he wanted more of that, all of that, all of him.
“You know,” Alhaitham continues when he pulls away, as if he’s just remembered, “I’ve had a dream about us in the bath, too.”
Kaveh sighs at the thought. “Oh, I do need one of those.” And if he were to hear more, that he could do—once the hot water (and Alhaitham’s hands) had had the chance to dissolve his aches away.
“That was a good one,” Alhaitham muses, smiling at the memory—or at the chance to make it real.
“Yeah?” Kaveh presses one last kiss to his cheek before attempting to stand. He holds out a hand once he manages; Alhaitham takes it, pulling himself off the divan and into Kaveh’s arms. “Tell me.”