Work Text:
Kaveh is not really sure how this happened.
All he knows is that while Al-Haitham’s cock presses just right into the most sensitive part of his body, he’s still holding onto this godforsaken razor with a trembling hand, tears in his eyes because Al-Haitham is so, so incredibly smug right now and even with his blurry vision he can see the smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
“H- Haitham. How am I supposed to help you shave if we do this here?”
Yet, Al-Haitham has apparently secretly taken a vow of silence and chooses to communicate by being a brat. He merely mouths on another smooth area of Kaveh’s neck that he had previously left unexplored to suck a newer, more obnoxious mark.
Kaveh simply refuses to believe that it is all his fault that he spoiled his younger lover to such an extent that he has started making unreasonable demands with the most impassive look on his face. It’s someone’s hard cock that swells up just a bit more inside Kaveh as he is seated on top of the man on their plush green divan, and there is no person other than Al-Haitham in their living room with him. Al-Haitham is being such a brat .
And really, Kaveh does not know where he had gone wrong. He had woken up in the morning with pure intentions and a pure heart. Al-Haitham was the one to sport a strange expression on his stubbly face as he peered into their slightly foggy bathroom mirror with the drowsiest eyes known to mankind. Kaveh, out of the goodness of his very pure heart (and also somewhat of a surge of affection for his younger lover) had offered to help him shave if the action seemed so entirely unbearable for the man.
So when and how exactly did Al-Haitham gain the manipulative ability to convince Kaveh to sit on him as he handed him the razor? It’s not like warming your lover’s cock is any sort of a requirement for helping them shave, let alone a basic one.
His lips press devotedly on the shell of Kaveh’s ear and he toys with the pierced lobe with his teeth. Al-Haitham’s hands had always been unstoppable in their expert caressing of Kaveh’s body and find no qualms now, tuning him like an instrument to sing the most melodious of songs. Kaveh is pretty sure that his lover had previously shown no such inclination to being a musician. But. He digresses. Barely.
Yet, as miraculously coherent as his thoughts are, this strain is nothing short of an insanity induced stroke, doomed by lust. Kaveh bemoans his pure intentions. He has been thoroughly taken advantage of. Worse, he actually kind of likes it.
Al-Haitham chooses this moment to tug a little harshly at the hair collected on Kaveh’s nape, just enough to Kaveh go weak on the knees when he is sitting , shifting himself just an amount that leaves Kaveh gasping and wanting, reduced to needy tears. It’s embarrassing. It should be embarrassing.
Kaveh has, however, thrown all dignity out of the window. There’s no sense he could talk when Al-Haitham is inside him and yet, damnably out of reach. Curse this man and his lazy bum attitude! Why should Kaveh do all the work in this household?
Kaveh’s hold on the razor is shakier than his financial stability. If he nicks Al-Haitham’s stupid face then maybe the man deserves it. Kaveh is going through actual torment. He will never agree to help Alhaitham ever again.
His own hardness leaks pathetically against the toned skin of Al-Haitham’s stomach which, amidst their tumbling, is left exposed from Alhaitham’s favourite worn-out black kurta riding up. When it inevitably stains, it will be a motherfucker to get rid off and Kaveh’s going to make sure his husband will do this half of the laundry.
“Senior.”
It’s even more pathetic that he has teared up from this torment. He keeps quiet.
A more insistent, “Senior… pay attention to me.”
So damn obnoxious.
It even sounds lazy because he drawled out the words. Al-Haitham’s eyes are back on him. Hooded and dark with desire, pupils blown black leaving not a hint of any of Kaveh’s favourite colours and yet, all Kaveh can do is look away and try not to break apart on his lap because of how much he needs .
Kaveh, truly, is barely managing to keep it together, if only for the sake of Al-Haitham’s face which currently sports a three-day stubble and does not quite require a bunch of razor nicks. He would probably still look handsome. The Archons hate Kaveh and only Kaveh specifically. Al-Haitham’s hands have found their way into the dimples on Kaveh’s back, which are left vulnerable in his current state and Kaveh isn’t sure how much longer he can take this.
His husband’s fingers are long and there’s a small callous on his middle finger left by his habit of holding his pen an unusual way for years. It’s just right . It’s not enough. It’s not enough at all.
Kaveh might as well resort to manipulation if threats of bodily harm won’t work.
Well fuck , he probably said that out loud.
Al-Haitham’s laugh is a soft chuckle, lost and muffled in the way it’s pressed against his skin. His huff of laughter breaches throughout the million crevices of Kaveh’s body, leaving his heart light as feathers, trembling in a breeze softer than the one that embraces the Anemo archon’s beloved nation.
Kaveh barely holds back the way he immediately clamps his thighs around Al-Haitham’s waist but he cannot hold back the whimper that escapes him as he brushes against Al-Haitham’s skin and makes even more of a mess on the poor kurta. His cock is just so perfect. Why is his junior’s cock so perfect? So thick and scaldingly hot. Leaking at the tip to make the slide of the cock sloppier still. He’s not even moving yet. It’s not even properly inside!
Because Al-Haitham is still content to rest his head on Kaveh’s chest and leave soft kisses as he holds Kaveh like he’s the first sight of water for a dying traveller in the vast, arid deserts of Sumeru.
Kaveh would have thought himself a pervert to become this undone when Al-Haitham seems perfectly unruffled if not for the dead giveaway of his husband being helpless at disguising his slight thrusts as he subtly tries to reach deeper and deeper inside Kaveh, to be perfectly sheathed in the slick and dripping warmth of his hole, to pound and take until Kaveh’s body becomes liquid in his hands.
Seriously? Who even started this game?
At this exact moment of impasse, the razor chooses a quick exit and slips from Kaveh’s hand. It miraculously does not cause any injury to either of them and merely lands on the floor rug that Kaveh had insisted upon buying in one of their regular shopping trips and remains still, a feat that neither of the two people of this room have managed to achieve in this stupid game they roped each other into playing.
Neither of them even gave a fuck anyway. Since he had been handed the razor, Kaveh had only managed to complete half the job with precision until Al-Haitham’s impossibly rude tongue found its jolly way into his right ear, swiping along the skin with skill, licking away at hidden freckles that he makes verbal note of in a manner that leaves Kaveh’s entire face flush with warmth. The lather on Al-Haitham’s face by then had smeared on the shirt that Kaveh had wore to bed the previous night in this process and they did not even bother to reapply.
Instead, Al-Haitham had sucked his earlobe into his mouth as his free hand gently flicked at an already abused nipple through the thin material of Kaveh’s shirt.
This devious hand then proceeded to quite swiftly pulled Kaveh’s linen shorts to side to press those teasing fingers to his hole which was loose enough from the previous night to give easy way to the intrusion. Kaveh had gasped and moaned but remained seated, making no move to bat his hands away.
Even if this was not a day off for both of them, Kaveh is certain that Al-Haitham would just have to look at him once with those eyes and he would fold in an instant. They’re both skipping work today, Kaveh does not want to hear anything else. From the way he pressed Kaveh down on his own body, the tent in his pants was admirably obvious. Big, eager and the tip already leaking, wet patch forming easily on his pants. It stood thick and proud against Kaveh’s cheeks, straining against the fabric for a touch of his bare skin.
But Al-Haitham had enough experience on restraint if it meant teasing Kaveh and so it had to be his senior’s hands that felt their way down to Al-Haitham’s pants to free his cock as he pressed so close to his body it seemed like he wanted them to merge into one soul. Springing up, his length smacked against Kaveh’s hole, the blunt head flushed purple and steadily creaming.
Whether it was inside him or rubbing against any part of him desperately like a hormonal teenager hitting puberty, Kaveh has always loved the feel of Al-Haitham’s cock. He is also not really known for his patience. Despite appreciating his husbands efforts to take it slow, Kaveh would have lost his mind if Al-Haitham isn’t inside him for even a minute longer. He took matters into his own hand by gathering the spill from the tip of the younger man’s cock to lubricate Al-Haitham’s own fingers just enough and pressed two of them inside at the same time. The stretch, the burn, the slight shock and arousal darkening on Al-Haitham’s face— it is all simply too delicious.
Al-Haitham tilted his head just a little to capture Kaveh’s soft smile with his lips, pressed deeper and crooked his fingers skilfully. Within a few pumps, he hit the spot that makes Kaveh gasp into his mouth with pleasure, one of his ankles jerking up from where it was hooked around his husband’s thighs.
This impossible man had pulled him onto his cock, in an equally, impossibly rude manner. He grabbed Kaveh’s waist and shoved himself in, all the while his senior held that razor and then smiled. Kaveh’s gasp echoed in the living room and his eyes watered from that delicious press of his husband’s cock.
And now, it’s a game of teasing, Kaveh’s slickness drips on to Al-Haitham’s pants steadily and Al-Haitham is absolutely fucking with him as he presents his face for Kaveh to help shave.
It has always been just a matter of who would break first and Kaveh will always be extremely aware that they’re both simply a little too hopeless for each other.
Still, this was their favourite game and Kaveh does not concede easy. At least, at first. But the only witness for this situation would be Mehrak and she had already very smartly entered sleep mode in Kaveh’s old room since last night. And so, no matter who breaks, Kaveh and Al-Haitham would simply have to continue their bantering in private if they wanted to know. Which they don’t. Not really. They just want to do it again. And again. And again .
But if walls could talk, they might have whispered that the pretence of shaving was finally abandoned as they both leaned in at the same time and almost knocked their teeth together by becoming a little too frantic in their desperation to release. Maybe, Al-Haitham’s stupid, muscular arms flexed over Kaveh’s head as he held down both of his wrists with just one of his hands and nosed against the dip of his collarbone.
Maybe, then Al-Haitham flipped their positions and Kaveh’s back was pressed against a cushion as his husband’s other hand continued its conquest of Kaveh’s body, clutching, grasping and even slightly bruising in his attempt to bury himself deeper and deeper. In a matter of seconds, his hips picked up the pace it was so far denied, snapping rhythmically chasing sheer hunger for release and pleasure, nothing short of animalistic and brute. As Al-Haitham finally gave into his whims, Kaveh’s mind went blank with pleasure. His eyes had already rolled back a little and the corner of his mouth was a little wet with drool. His lithe body jostled with the brunt force of Al-Haitham’s thrusts, the curve of his length sliding in a perfect rhythm against Kaveh’s dripping walls.
“H-ha… Haitham…….”
It’s all Kaveh could do but kiss his lover’s name is into every inch of the his skin that he could reach. As Al-Haitham’s head nuzzled against his shoulder, Kaveh brushed the stray strands of hair away from the sweat of his forehead through instinct. If Kaveh had opened his eyes, he would’ve seen the tip of Haitham’s ears flush a most indescribable shade of crimson. However, lost in the tangle of bodies, he simply found fulfilment in the way his husband’s hips stuttered every time Kaveh pressed tender kisses on his gorgeous face.
Kaveh’s body responds to Al-Haitham’s deliciously. Arms around his waist barely relax their embrace, a pair of dexterous hands leave behind light handprints on his sides in their wake and knead at his soft skin, tracing lines along the ones in his body. If Kaveh was in his senses, he would be a little miffed about how Al-Haitham does not even need to touch him bb properly in order to make him cum. For now, the press of his cock is so good inside Kaveh that his release splatters across Alhaitham’s kurta soon after. Kaveh had been left so sensitive from their game that the orgasm hits too hard. The spray of his cock is almost watery and some of it even lands on Al-Haitham’s face as his hole clenches down on his lover’s cock as he cums, shuddering in his arms.
And Al-Haitham is not really a man of many words. Except when it comes to Kaveh. It’s only when the sole object of his lifelong affections and the hypothetical-future-mother-of-his-hypothetical-children-in-a-hypothetical scenario-where-he-could-knock-Kaveh-up-as-much-as-he-wants-to is involved, Al-Haitham exercises his voice to an extent that exceeds normal. Yet, Kaveh, the light of Kshahrewar and also his life, is extremely capable of sealing his coherence on many occasions as well. Such as this one. Al-Haitham does not even try to stop his brain from going completely blank as his body finds itself in Kaveh. His usually eloquent speech reduced to moans and whimpers as he drives into Kaveh with zest, pounding into perfect handfuls of his ass as one of his thumbs presses once again into his hole, gazing longingly at where he and Kaveh intertwine. The blunt head of his cock disappears rhythmically into Kaveh’s hole which, by now, looks puffy and used, leaving his thighs dripping with cum.
Kaveh’s lips are still pressed into Al-Haitham’s tuft of hair as his husband’s whole body shudders and his hips snap. Once, twice and warm spurts of white, hot liquid shoots into Kaveh who is already limp and soft, blonde hair spread like a crown of a deity, amber eyes softened with affection and plush lips parted, mouthing his name again and again.
For quite a long while, Kaveh and Al-Haitham simply breathe each other in. Yes, the divan has cum stains and they should probably throw the razor away but neither of them wanted to move. It would make a mess of the divan cover anyway. It would be so much easier to take a nap just like that. And even though Al-Haitham had collapsed in his arms after his orgasm with his full body weight on Kaveh, Kaveh finds it easier to breathe than normal and simply runs his hands down the broad expanse of Al-Haitham’s back in soothing strokes.