Work Text:
Morning slips into the room unnoticed, tapping with sunbeams at the window, squeezing through a small gap in the linen curtains.
Alhaitham involuntarily squints through sleep; the sun blinds him even through closed eyelids. He rubs his eyes, lazily shifts on the bed, gently stretches his feet — it's so warm in the room, the blanket has bunched up somewhere at the edge. Kaveh lies beside him, completely naked, and Alhaitham himself is without underwear — an old habit. The body should rest. Kaveh almost always sleeps without a blanket — a peculiarity of his body. His skin is always warm, almost hot, as if he has overheated in the sun. Alhaitham often unconsciously presses against him at night, warming his palms, and in the morning, he goes mad from the impossible tangible warmth, enveloped in his arms.
Kaveh's limbs are sprawled across the bed, his hair is tousled, his lips are swollen from last night's long kisses, his neck adorned with a couple of crimson marks—he will not be pleased, will grumble about the meeting with the client, and will have to wrap a scarf around his neck again, and Alhaitham will be pleased in his usual manner to remind him that last night he himself begged to be kissed harder and not to stop. Something always remains unchanged — Kaveh gets angry, and Alhaitham pretends that this is not what he was aiming for.
The sun rises higher, and the amber stripe insistently moves towards Kaveh's eyes, gradually illuminating his freckled cheeks. Alhaitham rarely sees him like this — quiet, motionless, relaxed; usually, it is Kaveh who wakes up earlier and gazes at Alhaitham for a long time. Sometimes, Alhaitham finds in Kaveh's papers pencil sketches of tousled gray hair and naked thighs in silk sheets, and Kaveh shyly hides them in the desk drawer. Alhaitham likes being the hero of his fantasies, being his inspiration, the impulse for the pencil.
There is something special in this — watching him while he sleeps, tracing the serene face with his eyes, examining the small scars on his hands, guessing his dreams by the furrowed brows.
As soon as the ray touches his eyelids, Kaveh squints through sleep, frowns discontentedly, and in an attempt to hide, turns on his side, right towards Alhaitham. His skin is tanned, adorned with constellations of moles that Alhaitham has already memorized by heart. Touching one, he traces with his finger to another, weightlessly, almost not touching the bare body, connecting the solar plexus with a small dimple between the collarbones.
Kaveh wakes up almost immediately. Opening one eye, he shivers and barely smiles, and immediately places his hand over Alhaitham's, as if asking him to touch more. And he does: traces an invisible line from the shoulder to the shoulder blade, counting the protruding vertebrae, and then down, straight to the dimples on the lower back, to the lower abdomen, causing Kaveh to quietly shudder, and to the chest, spreading his palm under the heart. Kaveh seems to instinctively reach for him in response, touches feet to feet, wedges his knee between the squeezed thighs, strokes the ribs, lazily presses his palm to the back, nose to nose. He lifts his unfocused gaze, tickles the fluffy eyelashes on the cheeks, and gently kisses the corner of the lips. And then snuggles closer again, and his half-erect cock presses against Alhaitham's stomach, making his ears burn. In the morning, his body is always vulnerable, sensitive, responding to every touch. Kaveh knows this, and kisses him again. On the lips, gently squeezing the lower one, slowly tracing with his tongue. Hands either intertwine in a lock or caress the sides and thighs in an attempt to be closer.
"I want more," Kaveh whispers softly into Alhaitham's mouth, and runs his fingers along the cock from the base to the head, carefully wrapping around the shaft.
He kisses Alhaitham's neck, strokes his chest, scratching the nipples with short nails, and Alhaitham quietly groans into Kaveh's hair, pressing his nose into the wheat-colored strands.
Their bodies, softened by yesterday's caresses, cling to each other with desire, with tender trembling, with a pleasant shiver that makes them want to stop time and stay in this moment, merge with each other, dissolve in the sweetness of the morning and kisses.
Kaveh smells of warm plum wine, scented soap, and home, sun, and spices. They kiss for a long time, languidly, unhurriedly. Kaveh sometimes gently kisses all over the face from the eyelids to the cheekbones, sometimes licks Alhaitham's lips, wraps his lips around the tongue, softly sucking, and pushes his own inside to kiss Alhaitham deeper, while Alhaitham rubs his groin harder and groans loudly.
"Let's do it again, I want..." Kaveh murmurs sleepily and throws his thigh over Alhaitham, thereby spreading his legs a little wider. "I want you to..."
Kaveh reaches back to the nightstand and takes a half-empty bottle of floral oil. Generously coating his fingers, he again grips Alhaitham's cock, traces the head with his thumb, and presses in the middle, rubbing the natural lubrication mixed with oil on the reddened skin from arousal.
"Ahh..." Alhaitham cannot hold back a moan, throwing his head back. His entire body, heated, craving, asks for more.
Kaveh takes his hand, smears it with oil, kisses the back, and wraps his lips around the middle and index fingers, licking several times up to the second knuckle.
The fingertips slide over the warm tongue while Kaveh breathes loudly and continues to rub against him with his whole body. And this sight seems so lewd to Alhaitham for an ordinary Sunday morning that after a long sleep it seems almost unreal. Kaveh looks so sexy with his fingers in his mouth, with hickeys on his neck, with some completely special look that he always gives only to Alhaitham. With adoration and anticipation, with some boundless love and unhidden desire.
Pulling his fingers out of his mouth, Alhaitham strokes the round buttocks, smearing saliva and oil on the skin, spreads them, strokes the perineum, gently squeezes the testicles, and finally touches the pulsating hole, tracing the wet ring of muscles with oil. Kaveh is relaxed and prepared from last night, so Alhaitham easily inserts two fingers inside, spreading them apart. Kaveh is pliable, he easily takes the third, moving on the fingers, pressing his thigh against Alhaitham's thigh, as if trying to imprint his body into his own.
His own cock is already dripping with pre-ejaculate, pressing against the stomach and smearing transparent drops on it.
Impatiently exhaling, Kaveh moves closer and, gripping Alhaitham's cock with his palm, presses it to the stretched entrance, almost sitting on it himself.
"Help me a little," Kaveh asks and grabs the shoulders and neck.
Alhaitham holds Kaveh by the sides and presses on the buttocks, lifting his hips.
When the head sinks into the wet tight heat, they both moan and press against each other almost tightly — stomach to stomach, chest to chest. Alhaitham starts to move. The cock slowly slides along the tender walls, pulsing every time Kaveh clenches it from the inside.
Morning sex is especially pleasant. Lazy touches, long kisses, warm embraces, some unusual quiet passion mixed with hot desire. The body, not yet fully awakened from sleepy bliss, absorbs every movement, responding with a slight tremor.
Kaveh quietly moans into Alhaitham's lips, periodically kissing him, gropes his broad back with his hands, squeezes the sides with his fingers, moves his hips in rhythm. A hot and sweet pleasure blooms in the lower abdomen with each thrust, echoing heat from the fingertips to the ears.
The sun is already flooding the room with light, making it hotter, from frequent impatient breaths and the approaching orgasm, the eyes begin to darken.
The cock wedged between their bodies, drips with lubrication, carelessly rubbing against Alhaitham's torso, the swollen head glistens, and Kaveh himself breathes loudly and licks his lips. When Kaveh moves his hips and squeezes Alhaitham tighter from the inside, they both find themselves on the edge.
Kaveh tenses up in his hands, whispers something incoherent, sometimes runs his fingers through his hair, pulling them back and kissing the crown as if in apology, sometimes scratches his chest with them.
Gently pushing Alhaitham in the shoulder, he leans on top, pressing him with his weight into the silk sheets:
"Yes, like this..." he whispers into an especially tender kiss and, opening his mouth wide, immediately comes, barely having time to touch his own cock.
Semen stains their stomachs, flows into Alhaitham's navel, drips onto the bedding, darkens with large drops spreading across the fabric.
The hips shudder, Alhaitham makes a couple more movements, enters to the hilt, and, arching his back and thus pressing Kaveh tightly against himself, comes next, filling him from the inside.
After the release, they want to sleep again — the body becomes heavy, hot, almost motionless. Kaveh is still lying on top, buried in the neck, his hair is highlighted with gold, glistening in the sunlight. Alhaitham kisses him on the crown, tracing patterns on the hot back with his fingertips.
There is something special in this.