[ the first hour, kaveh finds, had been too easy. in the quietness of alhaitham's quarters, he has no terrific distractions. his corner of the room, at the very least, smells like him. the divan, his blanket. his sketchpad. his earrings. he found comfort in all of those, and they allowed kaveh to have control over his own body. the second hour, he finds, is far harder. there is alhaitham. there is alhaitham's voice. there's the hyper-awareness of each and all of his movements. he moves, and his body follows. he speaks, and kaveh shudders. it is, he knows, pride and stubbornness alone that has kaveh withstand his body's desires. this is, after all, his first ever heat. it was never meant to be experienced like that.
kaveh has always romanticized it. a partner for whom they bore the most genuine feelings of love. a planned time, so it is remembered, so it is made special. he would lay himself bare — emotionally, mentally, physically — to the one he wishes to spend a lifetime with and more. kaveh has wished for it for as long as he could remember. an idealistic world born from rose-tinted glass, encouraged by blood of his blood. such has been lokapala's wish for her omegas: to be in control of their body's wants, and allow only those they deem special to experience them at their most sensitive.
it is of no surprise that this dream has been since crushed. with no kingdom, no people, no dreams, and no control of his own body, what does kaveh have left? ]
Yes, [ he lies. barely, is the truth. kaveh dares not move. if he does, he will lose control of himself. he will enjoy the dark, instead. it would be calming. it could be comforting.
it is, too, volatile. darkness is a canvas, and without full control of his mind, it paints itself any picture it longs for. kaveh has been in this same room for too many days. he knows its layout. he can picture alhaitham's bed, which he knows the size, how soft it is, how it feels under him. he recalls a memory. he recalls the first day he spent in this same room, the hours spent on that same bed, the way he had laid on it.
he distorts, then, the memories that follow. ever so vulnerable. ever so needy. so easy to please, so eager for want. he would have readily allowed alhaitham to have his way with him, back then. (he would not.) he would have invited it, even. (he would not.) begged for it. (he would not.) he would crawl onto it now, even, lay himself bare, turn himself into temptation.
(he would not.) ]
... It's harder when you talk. [ kaveh does not lie, this time. he has no reason to trust alhaitham. not when he assumes all of this is his fault, his scheme, his plan. but when all of this has always just been a matter of time, what use is there to put up a fight? ]
.......... i shall neither confirm nor deny it thank you,
kaveh has always romanticized it. a partner for whom they bore the most genuine feelings of love. a planned time, so it is remembered, so it is made special. he would lay himself bare — emotionally, mentally, physically — to the one he wishes to spend a lifetime with and more. kaveh has wished for it for as long as he could remember. an idealistic world born from rose-tinted glass, encouraged by blood of his blood. such has been lokapala's wish for her omegas: to be in control of their body's wants, and allow only those they deem special to experience them at their most sensitive.
it is of no surprise that this dream has been since crushed. with no kingdom, no people, no dreams, and no control of his own body, what does kaveh have left? ]
Yes, [ he lies. barely, is the truth. kaveh dares not move. if he does, he will lose control of himself. he will enjoy the dark, instead. it would be calming. it could be comforting.
it is, too, volatile. darkness is a canvas, and without full control of his mind, it paints itself any picture it longs for. kaveh has been in this same room for too many days. he knows its layout. he can picture alhaitham's bed, which he knows the size, how soft it is, how it feels under him. he recalls a memory. he recalls the first day he spent in this same room, the hours spent on that same bed, the way he had laid on it.
he distorts, then, the memories that follow. ever so vulnerable. ever so needy. so easy to please, so eager for want. he would have readily allowed alhaitham to have his way with him, back then. (he would not.) he would have invited it, even. (he would not.) begged for it. (he would not.) he would crawl onto it now, even, lay himself bare, turn himself into temptation.
(he would not.) ]
... It's harder when you talk. [ kaveh does not lie, this time. he has no reason to trust alhaitham. not when he assumes all of this is his fault, his scheme, his plan. but when all of this has always just been a matter of time, what use is there to put up a fight? ]