Chapter Text
The device came from the desert.
Technically, from a joint expedition between Vahumana and Kshahrewar scholars, unearthed in one of the deeper, older tombs beneath the sands—far beyond the reaches of sanctioned maps.
Dust-caked and half-crushed by centuries of silence, the object was too intricately preserved to be dismissed. Perhaps the size of a large palm, its surface was inscribed in looping, archaic runes none of the linguists could decode.
Thus, the researchers did the most reasonable thing they could think of: hand it to the Acting Grand Sage.
He had observed it. It didn’t seem dangerous, per se. As of now.
When he stepped into the house that evening, the device tucked under one arm—
“Could you please take off your shoes properly this time? Not just kick them by the door like an uncultured—”
Alhaitham ignored the rest. Deliberately did not remove his shoes correctly. Left them in a haphazard heap by the door just to watch Kaveh’s reaction.
As expected, golden eyes flashed with indignation. “You infuriating—!”
He enjoyed that more than he should have—Kaveh, animated, predictable in the most exasperatingly comforting way.
Alhaitham wouldn't admit it aloud, of course, but there was a certain fondness that had long since settled beneath his skin for the other man’s dramatic reactions.
Dinner passed uneventfully. Kaveh cooked, Alhaitham cleaned. They bickered about seasoning, funding allocations, and someone’s tendency to rearrange the bookshelf. And after Kaveh’s colorful recounting of a frustrating commission, Alhaitham went to bed.
Alhaitham woke abruptly, a prickling heat clinging to his skin despite the desert night's coolness.
Not feverish, not sick. Just overly warm.
He sat up, fanned himself, cracked open a window. The air was still. No crickets. No hum of people or wind.
An unsettling quiet permeated everything.
Frowning, he went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was probably overheating. Dehydrated.
But it was quiet.
Too quiet.
The clock on the wall—the rhythmic tick-tick-tick that usually punctuated the silence—
Was still. Pendulum frozen. Not a sound.
Alhaitham stepped closer. Stared. The clock remained at 2:13.
Alhaitham counted to 120. The clock still showed 2:13.
But they had changed the batteries last month. A fact Alhaitham remembered vividly due to Kaveh fussing that a dead clock was the reason he was late to a client meeting.
He rapped on Kaveh’s door. “Kaveh?”
No answer.
He opened the door. The lights were on. Kaveh sat hunched at his desk, shoulders curved over a blueprint. Nothing seemed amiss; it wasn’t unusual for Kaveh to be working late.
It was just. His posture was rigid. Unnaturally still.
“Kaveh?”
Still nothing.
Alhaitham stepped closer. An expression of intense, almost cute frustration was etched onto Kaveh’s features. Brows furrowed, lips slightly pursed as if caught mid-thought. His hand was poised over the paper, unmoving.
Alhaitham reached out and tapped his shoulder. No response. Not even a blink.
He tried again, a firmer shake. Kaveh's body moved, yes—but slackly. There was no flicker of recognition, no verbal retort, no sign that he had even registered the touch.
A cold dread crept up Alhaitham’s spine.
He left the room. Opened the front door. Looked outside.
The city was bathed in moonlight—but eerily still.
Not a flicker of movement. Not a shadow of wind. People mid-step, birds mid-flight—paused. Suspended in stillness like a mirage. Like statues.
The strange heat returned. Heavy. Pressing.
He exhaled heavily, fanning his shirt. Retreated inside.
Alhaitham checked the device—it remained on his desk. Barely warm to the touch.
Surely, he thought as he lay back down, this has to be a dream. He closed his eyes, willing himself—forcing himself—back into the oblivion of sleep.
When he woke the next morning, the clock was ticking again.
Kaveh was grumbling in the kitchen. The street outside buzzed as usual.
Nobody reported a weird recollection of memories.
Alhaitham went to the Akademiya, the strangeness of the night before feeling like a half-forgotten nightmare.
But that night? It happened again.
Right in front of him.
They were mid-argument.
Not even a subtle one—full-on, cutting each other off between pan sizzles and chopping boards.
“You cannot just buy imported saffron whenever you feel like it—”
“It was discounted.”
“That’s not the point, Alhaitham! Do you know how many other spices we could’ve—”
“I don’t quite see the problem. It was my money.”
“Ugh—you absolute—”
Kaveh's dramatic tirade cut off mid-sentence.
Alhaitham turned toward the sink where Kaveh was. “What, have you suddenly realized your errors?”
But Kaveh didn’t respond. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even sigh dramatically like he always did when conceding a temporary loss in their back-and-forth.
He just stood there, one hand under the running faucet, carrots half-washed in his other hand. Too still.
Alhaitham’s annoyance ebbed into confusion. “Kaveh?”
Nothing. Just like the night before.
Alhaitham listened for it. The tick-tick-tick of the clock.
No clock.
He glanced at Kaveh again. His face was set in that same annoyed half-frown, brows creased just so, mouth parted mid-exhale. Still infuriating even frozen.
Just because a residual prickle of the earlier argument still lingered—Alhaitham nudged Kaveh’s arm. Perhaps with a touch more force than strictly necessary.
Kaveh toppled.
Alhaitham barely caught him in time, panicked.
Kaveh slumped sideways in his arms, like a mannequin. Unresisting, heavy, warm. Alhaitham eased Kaveh against the lower cabinets, heart pounding slightly faster than he wanted to admit.
The same heat as yesterday crawled up his spine—thick, suffocating, inexplicable. Sweat formed on his neck.
This had to be connected to the strange device.
Alhaitham retrieved it from his room, turned it over in his hands. Nothing seemed outwardly different. “What are you?”
The world outside was paused too. An old woman watering her plants stood mid-pour. A cat in the alley was stuck mid-leap, paws curled in the air.
Alhaitham returned to the kitchen.
He sat across from Kaveh on the floor, deciding he would wait it out. Observe. Record the passage of time—if it did pass.
Kaveh was still slumped against the cabinets, one knee bent awkwardly. Still flushed in the cheeks, whether from heat or irritation, Alhaitham couldn’t tell.
The longer Alhaitham sat, the worse the heat got. Like the air itself was pressing in around him. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. His pulse ticked in his throat. The device sat. Mocking.
His eyes drifted back to Kaveh.
The slope of his lashes. The angry crease between his brows. The elegant lines of his hands. The faint glisten on his skin where steam had clung. The corner of Kaveh’s lips. Still parted. Still frozen.
He reached out—without much thought—and gently smoothed the furrow between Kaveh’s brows.
The tension there seemed to ease. Alhaitham blinked. Surprised it worked.
Then—his thumb wandered. Acting with a will of their own. Dragged lightly beneath one eye, tracing Kaveh's cheekbone… and then, inexplicably, towards his lips.
He stilled. Pulled back sharply.
He snatched the device off the floor, a sudden heat flooding his face that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature.
“This is your doing,” he muttered. His face was flushed. His chest was hot. He hated how aware he’d become of everything—of Kaveh, of his silence, of his voice not being there in the room.
Alhaitham went to his room. Sat down. Tried to think. Counted seconds under his breath, then minutes. He recorded them on his notepad.
One full hour passed.
And then—
“ALHAITHAM?!”
A crash. Clatter. “What the hell—did you knock me out?!”
Alhaitham opened his door slowly.
Kaveh was on the floor in the kitchen, staring at him in a tangle of limbs and fury.
“I was just—washing carrots?! And then I was on the ground!”
“…Did you faint?”
Kaveh glared. “I don’t faint. And you were right behind me!”
“Then I suppose I knocked you out mid-argument and gently placed you against the cabinets with surgical precision. All the way from here.”
A flicker of understanding dawned in Alhaitham's mind. So if people were moved from their original position while the time froze, they would experience a lapse in awareness. Hm.
“...so I really passed out?”
“It seems like it.”
Alhaitham watched him slowly stand. Kaveh didn’t seem hurt. Just confused. Disoriented.
Nothing seemed to be dangerous. For now.
Alhaitham, ever the pragmatist, ran further tests—controlled conditions, consistent variables.
He brought the device to the Akademiya. Locked himself in his office, surrounded by books, scrolls, and the constant hum of scholars beyond the walls.
Nothing happened.
The clock ticked, the city hummed, the sun rose, and the strange heat remained absent.
So he brought it home again.
And that’s when it happened.
The third time.
Kaveh was sprawled on the sofa, draped in something soft and far too thin to keep him warm. Collar loose, sleeves rolled high. Sketchbook balanced on one knee, pencil spinning between long fingers. Relaxed. Distracting.
And Alhaitham—who had been pretending to read on the opposite couch—noticed it immediately.
The absence.
The missing tick-tick-tick of the wall clock.
The missing shuffling of Kaveh’s clothes, his breathing.
And—the sudden heat.
Alhaitham had been through worse. He could endure an hour. He could wait it out.
He tried to focus on his book, but the words blurred as the heat intensified. His skin prickled. Back damp. Sweat at his brow. Something sharp and spiraling in his stomach, tight in his core.
He paced the room, a poor substitute for the release he craved.
Then, inevitably, he drifted toward the sofa where Kaveh was. Just to observe. Just to… examine.
Kaveh lay still, hands still on the sketchpad. His expression wasn’t his usual fury or fluster. His brows were stress-free. His shoulders at ease.
But Alhaitham’s gaze was drawn to a particular detail:
Kaveh’s lips—slightly parted, the lower lip caught between his teeth. He was biting it, a small, unconscious gesture of focus.
And Alhaitham swallowed. Heat pooling low in his stomach, a sensation entirely separate from the ambient temperature. He didn't understand why the device seemed to amplify… everything.
Before he could fully process the thought, he reached out.
His thumb gently pressed against Kaveh’s lower lips, nudging them free from his teeth. Just enough so he wouldn’t injure himself while frozen. That’s all. That’s why. (That’s not why.)
He glanced to the side.
Saw the sketch. And his breath paused.
Kaveh had been drawing him.
Seated on the opposite couch, reading. The curve of his spine, the set of his jaw, the way the light caught the edge of his cheekbone.
The heat broke like a wave in his chest. His lips twitched. Barely a smile. Barely even a reaction.
But his body leaned in before his mind caught up.
Kaveh was still. His breath, light. His lashes, delicate. His lips, soft and parted now because of Alhaitham’s interference.
Alhaitham was researching, after all. Documenting anomalies.
And Kaveh—would never know.
So Alhaitham let his hand settle on the couch cushion beside Kaveh’s shoulder. Braced himself.
And pressed a kiss to his lips. The same lips that never stopped moving when Kaveh argued. But this time, there was no retort. No rebuff.
The heat exploded—everywhere. Unbearable and quiet, like the whole world was burning around him.
So Alhaitham fled.
Heart thundering. Hands shaking.
He locked himself in his bedroom.
And refused to acknowledge the warmth lingering on his lips.
Alhaitham unraveled slowly. Not with noise or spectacle, but with the quiet precision of a scholar who thought he was in control.
He told himself it was fine.
Because right now, in real time, approaching Kaveh still meant disaster. Meant raised voices, eye-rolls, long-winded monologues and sarcastic one-liners.
But in these hours between seconds? Kaveh was soft. Unarmed.
In a way Alhaitham had never seen him before.
He liked it. He liked it too much.
So in several moments of weakness—he kept kissing him.
Just gentle at first. Tentative. Nothing scandalous. Barely indulgent.
He promised himself it was only that.
With how their lives were going—how entangled they'd become—it was inevitable, wasn’t it? The undercurrent of something more that had always simmered beneath their constant sparring. So this—this was just preparation. Just…an innocent rehearsal for a future he was certain of. Yes.
And before or after those kisses, he would simply sit beside Kaveh, pulling the other man closer against him, restful, warm. A fragile peace they haven’t reached yet in the real world.
It was fine. Just until Alhaitham deciphered the workings of the bizarre device.
But the heat just—got worse.
Each time it returned thicker, heavier, until it soaked through Alhaitham’s skin and eroded his carefully constructed boundaries.
And eventually, the kisses strayed from Kaveh’s mouth.
To his jaw, the delicate dip beneath his ear, the smooth expanse of his shoulder, the edge of his collarbone—exposed by sleepwear that slid too easily to the side.
Kaveh never stopped him.
Still. Pliant. Soft. Beautiful.
Alhaitham’s hands wandered more. A thumb along the curve of Kaveh’s spine. Fingers brushing his ribs. Lips ghosting over the curve of his neck.
And Kaveh said nothing. Because he couldn’t.
So Alhaitham convinced himself again.
That it was fine.
The next time the world fell silent, Kaveh was already in his room, draped languidly beneath a thin blanket. And Alhaitham found himself there again, his lips tracing the familiar contours of Kaveh's mouth, the delicate line of his jaw, the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbone.
It had been later than usual. Lights out. His window opened just a crack to let a breeze of cold air through.
But it was still too hot for Alhaitham. Unbearably hot.
Alhaitham didn’t even pause anymore. No hesitation as he moved.
And Kaveh—Gods, Kaveh was pliant. Skin flushed, so soft, so easy to touch. His chest rising and falling faintly beneath Alhaitham’s fingertips, his lips warm and already parted, like he’d been waiting for this in his dreams.
Alhaitham's mouth dragged lower. His tongue tasted salt and soap and Kaveh.
And that slight furrow between Kaveh’s brows—
Had Alhaitham caused that?
He didn’t know.
Sometimes, he wished Kaveh would wake up. Just for a moment. Just long enough to meet his gaze, touch his face, kiss him back.
The heat was stronger again. Blooming in his chest like wildfire, ran down his spine, crackled through his skin. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
His eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught, the undeniable—
(Hard. Throbbing. Shameful.)
—pressure in his pants.
He was hard. Against Kaveh.
His kisses against Kaveh’s skin grew frantic, desperate, a silent battle against the burgeoning desire that threatened to consume him
His mind slipped—just barely—
And he yanked back.
He couldn’t. This was Kaveh.
No matter how soft he looked now, no matter how red his lips were, or how dazed his expression, or how—
Alhaitham retreated to his room, the oppressive heat clinging to him, coiling in his gut. Hands shaking, throat dry, skin burning.
He didn’t mean to. Didn’t want to.
But it was unbearable. He needed to take the edge off—
So he reached down.
Fisted his straining length with shaking fingers.
Imagined Kaveh. Touching him. Dark eyes gazing at him. Breathy voice saying something like “Was this what you meant by research? Was this what you wanted?”
Bucking into his hand, hips lurching forward, chasing his high, Alhaitham thought mindlessly, Kaveh would feel so good.
He pressed his face into the mattress and stifled Kaveh’s name against the sheets as he came, shame thick in his chest, curling around his spine like a noose.
The next day, the first thing he heard was the rustle of sheets and Kaveh’s voice, slurred with sleep:
“Ugh… what did we eat for dinner last night again? My lips feel…” A pause. A puzzled rub at his mouth. “Kinda… swollen. Am I allergic to something?”
Alhaitham stood frozen in the hallway, paralyzed. He couldn’t answer.
Because Kaveh looked kissed out.
Like someone had thoroughly, lovingly ruined his mouth.
“Haitham, you okay?” Kaveh frowned, looking at him with concern. “You look flushed. Are you sick?”
He reached out a hand, his touch feather-light as he pressed it to Alhaitham's forehead. Warm and sweet and completely trusting.
And in that innocent gesture, Alhaitham’s eyes traitorously fell to Kaveh’s lips. His neck. Too smooth. Like Alhaitham had never touched it. But he remembered the wet softness of them from the night before, the yielding warmth.
Alhaitham took a step closer, his own thumb lifting, brushing lightly across Kaveh’s subtly swollen lower lip. “Perhaps it was the saffron.”
Kaveh blinked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. And then— “The saffron? All that money you wasted and I can’t even eat it? Honestly—”
Something curled in Alhaitham’s chest at the animateness in Kaveh, the vibrant energy so starkly different from his pliant, frozen form.
And a most terrifying, a most bewildering realization settled in—a treacherous anticipation:
He craved the next time freeze.
The next time the silence arrived, Alhaitham jolted upright, a shameful keenness thrumming through him.
Because he knew—
Kaveh had just stepped out of the shower.
And there he was: a towel slung low on his hips, clinging to wet skin, droplets of water frozen in glistening paths down his chest. His body half-turned on the edge of the bed, wet hair tousled, his mouth slightly open—caught in a sigh? A soft hum?
Alhaitham's vision blurred with heat.
That infernal, overwhelming heat slammed into him all over again—filling his lungs, boiling under his skin, pooling between his legs. It was insistent. It was addictive.
He mouthed against Kaveh’s throat. Lips trailing the path of a droplet down his collarbone, his sternum. Tasting the curve of Kaveh’s shoulder, his chest, reverent and desperate.
He let Kaveh fall gently back onto the bed. Guided him down with hands that trembled at the wrists. And Kaveh lay there, warm and still, smelling like his shampoo, glowing under the light—skin kissed with heat and humidity.
He kissed him again. And again. Down his torso, down the soft dip of his stomach, mouthing over the path water had once run.
“Sorry,” Alhaitham whispered into his skin, hushed, frantic. “You're just…” as if any murmured words could absolve him of this violation of Kaveh’s stillness.
He kissed his hip, pressed his forehead to Kaveh’s abdomen, hands fisting the bedsheets beside him.
The towel stayed on. It had to.
But Alhaitham’s hands were everywhere else—gripping Kaveh’s waist, stroking over the arch of his back, mapping the shape of his thighs like he was trying to commit them to memory.
And then—
His eyes caught again on Kaveh’s mouth.
Open. Soft. Red.
Glistening with moisture. Still parted from whatever breath or sound had last left him before the freeze. So vulnerable.
Alhaitham felt a dizzying wave of self-loathing at the intensity of his obsession. And the thought—the pure, vile, crushing thought—ripped through him, dangerous:
He’d let me in. If he could move, he’d let me.
The shame came too late.
Because Alhaitham's hand was already sliding downward, already gripping his throbbing member, already moving.
“Fuck.”
He gasped against Kaveh’s neck, muffling the way his hips jerked. Breath short. Body burning. Buckling. Losing control.
It hit him hard. Fast.
He came—helplessly—against Kaveh’s hip, teeth gritted, voice torn from his throat in a strangled moan. His other hand still braced against Kaveh’s thigh.
The room spun. The heat simmered down, the haze lingering over his skin like sweat.
And the whole time? His mind was still locked on Kaveh’s mouth.
Which was right there.
Open. Unknowing.
Alhaitham couldn’t stop looking.
The next time happened when Alhaitham least expected it—they were in the living room, Kaveh was laughing at something. Really laughing. One of those full-body, head-tilted-back, eyes-crinkled, utterly unguarded laughs. Alhaitham rarely saw it.
He had already been on edge, waiting for the next time freeze.
This undid Alhaitham completely.
He stared at Kaveh for a long time. Brushed a finger over his grin. His cheeks. Thought, you're so beautiful like this.
He kissed Kaveh’s smile. Gently. Like reverence.
Then deeper. Lingering.
And then the heat crept in again. The same suffocating intensity from the device. But truthfully, Alhaitham didn’t have it in him to complain—he had been looking forward to it.
As his lips trailed down Kaveh's neck, his fingers traced down his chest, brushing against a nipple. He glanced up. Kaveh's brows had that crease again. The one that always made Alhaitham wonder—
Could Kaveh feel anything when he was in this state? From how his eyes dazed over, from how his nipples perked, he probably could.
And that made Alhaitham even crazier.
This time—
He spread Kaveh’s legs.
Pulled his pants down.
Alhaitham didn’t enter.
He couldn’t. He swore he wouldn’t.
He just wanted to touch himself over Kaveh. While watching him.
But—he saw it then.
Against Kaveh’s pants. Growing. Tight against fabric.
Kaveh felt everything. Because Kaveh was hard too.
And Kaveh's face? Completely still. Lit up in laughter, eyes creased with delight—and his body was soft, warm, open, unresisting.
Alhaitham could almost delude himself into believing Kaveh wanted this, had been waiting for this.
Throwing caution to the wind, Alhaitham wrapped a hand around both of them—his own burgeoning hardness and Kaveh’s, pressed together.
And with a sharp inhale, he stroked. Slowly. Deliberately.
Each moment too hot, a silent, desperate plea.
“You’d let me,” he murmured. “You’d let me if you could. I know you would.”
He thumbed their tips, smearing precum around, hissing at the slickness. At Kaveh’s warmth right against him. It felt good. Too good.
He moved faster. Panting. Muffling groans against Kaveh’s neck. His lips never left Kaveh’s skin—kissing, sucking, biting lightly. His hips rutted, desperate, involuntary. His hand tightened around their cocks, moving faster. Obscene sounds of their movement rang in Alhaitham’s ears.
And Kaveh—was still smiling. With that small crease in his brows. And like this, it looked like he enjoyed it.
His cock twitched against Alhaitham’s thrust, as if agreeing.
“Fuck.”
Alhaitham shuddered through his release, whispering Kaveh’s name. He kept moving his hands, relentless, sensitive, because judging from the expression on Kaveh’s face, he was close too. And when he spilled out, Alhaitham let out a soft moan, working the man through each spurt. Kaveh’s frozen cock twitched against his own from the friction.
There was come all over Kaveh’s stomach. All over their cocks. It was indecent. Messy. Too intimate.
Alhaitham sagged forward. Sank against him. Felt the guilt like a rising tide.
But stronger than that was the sick, dangerous satisfaction of having touched Kaveh like no one else ever had.
Later, time resumed with a sudden jolt. Kaveh jerked forward, his previous wheeze of laughter escaping him. Then he paused. Brows furrowed. “That's weird.” He blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly. “Wait, what were we talking about?”
Alhaitham had cleaned them up. Had sat Kaveh back to how he was before. Like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Your client and her overly enthusiastic dog.”
“Oh. Right.” Kaveh still frowned, shifting uncomfortably.
“What's wrong?” Alhaitham asked, voice neutral.
Kaveh pursed his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Nothing. Just… my pants feel a little… damp. Weird.”
Every second between the freezes felt like too long.
There was no line anymore. Alhaitham couldn’t see it. It was blurred.
And—Alhaitham was still fixated on Kaveh’s mouth. The source of his frustrations most days. The source of all of Kaveh’s rebuttals. Kissing, touching, biting the offensive thing wasn’t—wasn’t enough anymore.
He had waited twenty minutes. A full twenty minutes, to convince himself not to.
And—Kaveh chose that moment to breathe louder, a small sigh escaping his lips.
And Alhaitham, too drunk on the heat, took that as a yes. He rolled off the couch, moved Kaveh to the edge so his head hung over the couch. His pants were already at his ankles. His girth lined up against Kaveh’s bruise-kissed lips. And once Kaveh’s short, hot breath blew at the tip of his erection—Alhaitham lost it.
He had wanted to take his time. Wanted to see how he looked like against Kaveh’s lips. Wanted to drown in the sight.
As he shoved his cock into Kaveh's mouth, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him.
It was hot. So hot. Scorching hot.
So wet. So soft. Everywhere.
He pulled out, then pushed back in, hissing.
Alhaitham didn’t think he wanted it to end. Mind racing, senses lost, his fingers trailed in Kaveh’s hair gently, coaxing the blonde to bob his head up and down.
“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this…”
Each time his cock would hit the end of Kaveh’s throat, he felt the pleasure constricting. His eyes rolled into their sockets.
It was unbearable. Absolutely unbelievable.
His mind had already snapped. Yesterday.
“You’re good at this,” Alhaitham breathed out, biting his lip. Hips thrusting back in, he felt vibrations rolling off along his erection. From Kaveh’s mouth. Like Kaveh was moaning. Like Kaveh wanted it. “You probably do, don’t you?”
His grip in Kaveh’s hair tightened. He moved faster, frantic. He imagined Kaveh awake. Imagined Kaveh looking up at him from under his lashes, as Alhaitham spilled all over him. Tongue out, licking, waiting. Willing.
“Fuck…” Alhaitham continued thrusting into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, cock twitching. The warmth buzzing on his skin, everywhere, everywhere.
He pulled out for a second—taking in the mix of spit and precum shining on Kaveh’s lips. It was stunning. Filthy. He burned it into his mind.
And Kaveh couldn’t do anything but take it.
He groaned, pushing back in, rougher, whispering an apology in his head. The sound of wet squelching mixed with Alhaitham’s ragged breathing filled the room. He bit his lips, trying not to make too much sound.
Each thrust went deeper, hitting the back of Kaveh’s throat. “Ahh, I’m going to…”
And when the heat coiled tight, tipping over the edge—he held Kaveh’s head still, letting out a strangled sound as he spilled into Kaveh’s waiting throat.
Alhaitham could feel it all. The warmth spilling out of Kaveh’s swollen mouth. Trickling down Alhaitham’s cock.
For a moment, Alhaitham just stood there, cock twitching, still resting in Kaveh’s mouth. He was breathing too deep, too fast. The heat was still around but—not as strong. Not as overwhelming as before. Not burning.
Alhaitham pulled back slowly, the loss of warmth stark. He covered his eyes with his palm. He should feel ashamed—
But as he watched Kaveh’s mouth tilt open, semen rolling down his cheek—
All Alhaitham felt was a twisted sense of eagerness.
For the next time.
Alhaitham had tea boiling by the time Kaveh stirred awake. A silent offering, perhaps a small penance for his shameful intensity.
“Hai—” Kaveh cleared his throat, roughly, several times. Swallowed. “My throat’s killing me. Am I getting sick?”
As Kaveh gulped the liquid down, Alhaitham’s eyes trained on the hollow of his throat. The skin there too smooth, betraying nothing of Alhaitham's violation.
The Vahumana research team arrived at his office the next day, inquiring whether the Acting Grand Sage had managed to decipher the inscriptions on the device.
Alhaitham had replied that he hadn’t had the time—buried, as always, beneath a mountain of requests and reports from more pressing matters.
But a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth: he had the time.
He just didn’t want to give it up. Didn’t want to give Kaveh up. Not yet.