Date: 2023-06-06 03:47 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16497824)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ alhaitham is unmade.

the biological rationale is this: that fertility is vital to the survival of the human race. that protection and provision is needed for procreation. that need and infatuation is impetus for behaviours that promote survival. you will protect that which you, if not love, then at least desire. in theory, the amurta biologists posit, the strata of secondary sexual characteristics creates a society where each know their own roles. alhaitham knows the arguments well, because they form the foundation of the basic caste system. vissudha had her roots in a nation state that worshipped fecundity. vissudha stratified her society in order to create a population dedicated to formalise the most savage qualities of desire.

kaveh is devastation-made-form. my first time, he says, in a voice like spun honey. desire carves through alhaitham like a quake. he is blind with it. the world is white-hot and bright, the light refracted from marble and glass like lancelets. nothing is meant to withstand the siren of that tone. nothing dares.

alhaitham crosses the room. the air is thick with scent. his body burns through it like the careening of a comet. each footfall drags alhaitham through time and space to a kaveh who is simultaneously too near and too far. there is nothing inviting about the curl of kaveh's body. he hides, like a creature burned, a golden curl against the corner of a wall that could not possibly contain him. he is light, and sweetness, and a galaxy of yearning. he belongs in a case for display; he belongs in the folds of a bed. alhaitham looks down with the hard, hewn lines of the divan between them, and thinks -

alhaitham is not yet unmade.

with uncertain precision, alhaitham drops what he is holding. the smattering of blankets and comforters deposit themselves over kaveh's upturned face.
]

You should have said, Prince of the Lokapala, that you were on suppressants.

[ the gravel of his voice is unfamiliar to even alhaitham, who tastes iron on his tongue. he has, he realises, bitten through his lip.

it is not worth considering.
] How long on average? Think, Kaveh.
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Seasons may change, winter to spring,
but I love you until the end of time.