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If pressed for an answer, Kaveh wouldn’t be able to say with a straight face when it started. When things changed for him. One day, he was bickering with his roommate over the haphazard organization of the pantry and the next, he was staring at the shape of his forearms in his workout clothes, wondering what it would be like to be grabbed at his waist and pushed down amongst his overpriced sheets.
For years, Alhaitham had been a constant in his life. A variable that was part of each and every equation—debate partner, acquaintance, thesis partner, friend and then roommate. Things had fallen into place not neatly, but they had fallen together in a way that felt right. University was spent bickering, pushing each other’s buttons and learning that when nervous, Kaveh laughed and Alhaitham fidgeted with his fingers.
It was a quiet intimacy shared between two friends that had gotten off to a rocky start, but had fallen into a rhythm and decided life was more tolerable in a shared space together than roughing it out on their own. While Kaveh endlessly pursued feat after architectural feat, cutting his teeth and making a name for himself in the field despite his young age, Alhaitham was quietly excelling at everything he did without even trying. For awhile, they were a formidable pair. Unstoppable.
Which begged the question—when did comfort morph into inexplicable longing?
* * *
Kaveh stares mournfully at his cashmere sweater. Or, at least, the remnants of it.
He had carelessly tossed it into the hamper the day before and then, on a drunken cleaning spree, added it to the load of laundry he did at midnight. Now, in the wee and more sober hours of the morning, he stared at the consequences of his decision. No longer was it buttery soft to the touch and draped in all the right places. Instead, it felt stiff and clingy in a way that reminded Kaveh too much of that one guy he tried to date freshman year. He couldn’t afford to keep ruining his things; his bank account was already bleeding and he hadn’t secured a new project yet.
Somehow, it felt like a metaphor.
Dragging his feet back to his bedroom felt like a funeral march. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, he’d do some more digging about potential projects his team was pitching. Tomorrow, he’d rearrange his dresser so it made more sense. Tomorrow, he’d tackle all those little to-do’s that felt impossible in the moment but kept him up at night. Tomorrow.
But wasn’t tomorrow always going to be the next day?
“Too philosophical,” Kaveh murmurs to himself as he pads down his apartment hallway in only socks. “I’m starting to sound like Alhaitham.”
“I don’t sound that way,” a voice interrupts to his left.
Kaveh nearly leaps out of his skin. He turns wildly, met with a bare chest and a toothbrush way too close to his face. “Why are you awake?” he demands.
“It’s Friday,” says Alhaitham, unflinching.
“Get that out of my face, gross,” Kaveh groans, nudging the dangling toothbrush further away even though it was a modest distance in the first place. “You always turn in early on the weekends.”
“Not always.”
“No?”
Kaveh lifts an unimpressed brow. “So, were you lying all those times I tried to get you to go out drinking with me?”
Alhaitham pointedly pops the toothbrush back into his mouth and walks to the bathroom. Kaveh, hot on his heels, taps his foot as he awaits his answer. A familiar song and dance, push and pull. Now that’s philosophical, he tells himself, a headache forming right behind his eyes.
After thoroughly brushing and spitting into the sink, Alhaitham meets Kaveh’s gaze in their too-tiny bathroom mirror. “I retire to my room early. I usually read for a few hours before I sleep.”
What? Has Alhaitham just been laying in bed reading until two or three in the morning? Kaveh thought he knew everything there was to know about him…! … okay, maybe exaggeration. Maybe he’s tipsier than he thought he was, even after having had his last drink two hours ago.
“What’s with the look, senior?” Alhaitham’s lips quirk, not quite molding into a smirk just yet.
“Don’t you want a social life?”
Alhaitham, unimpressed, turns to rinsing off his toothbrush. He sets it next to Kaveh’s yellow one before washing his hands. To the mirror, he says, “You’re plenty of one. I’m all set.”
Kaveh rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
Even so, it brings a faint heat to Kaveh’s cheeks. As of late, Alhaitham has seemingly grown proficient in little one-liners that do damage to Kaveh’s heart. Reminders that Alhaitham seems to have a low tolerance for social interaction when it isn’t his roommate, that Alhaitham doesn’t engage anyone else in spirited debates while holding back a smirk. That Alhaitham, five years ago, had sworn he never would room with another person as he had grown accustomed to living alone. Yeah, that Alhaitham. … where was Kaveh going with that again?
“Enlighten me.”
Kaveh opens his mouth but then clamps it shut. This is a trap. He knows Alhaitham too well (see above) to fall for this! Grumpily, he crosses his arms. “You haven’t gone out with me in weeks.”
“I didn’t realize your social calendar was lacking,” says Alhaitham as he dries his hands and then leans against the open bathroom door. Like this, they aren’t too far apart.
“It’s not that it’s lacking…” Kaveh says, trailing off. It’s jam-packed, overbooked, double-booked! “It’s…” How does he phrase this so he doesn’t sound like a golden retriever puppy whining at the front door that its owner just left from?
“If you missed me, senior, you could have just said so directly.”
This time, Alhaitham pushes past him.
Flabbergasted at the sheer audacity of it all, Kaveh remains rooted to the spot. “That’s…!” he sputters. He swears he can hear Alhaitham’s warm, breathy chuckle as he heads to his room. Oh, he’ll get him for this. He’ll put cayenne pepper in his coffee tomorrow! Or he’ll Cyno that he’s interested in learning stand-up! Or…
Kaveh barely processes the door shutting down the hall.
“…Oh. Right.”
Bed. He needs sleep before he says or does something really embarrassing.
* * *
“What’s this?”
“The mail.”
“I know that, jerk. I mean, what’s this?” Kaveh waves a particularly large package around that’s addressed to none other than himself. “I didn’t order anything. My mom didn’t text me she ordered me anything. What is it?”
“It’s addressed to you, isn’t it?” Alhaitham hums, unmoving save for the flip of a page of his book that he balances on his knee.
Kaveh carries it to the living room. With little effort, he drops it unceremoniously onto the part of the couch Alhaitham isn’t lounging all over.
Alhaitham’s gaze drifts over to it. “I suppose there’s only one way to answer your question.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Kaveh warns. He gives the package another suspicious look. “What if it’s my firm sending me my things because I’m fired?”
“Unlikely.”
“What if it’s a bomb?”
“Why in Teyvat would someone deliver that to you?”
“H-hey now!”
Flushing, Kaveh looks between the package and Alhaitham. He notices the furrow of his brows, the lift of his left one, and the little sigh. It sounds defeated but fond around its rough edges. “Kaveh, why don’t you just open it?”
Claiming defeat, Kaveh tears into the box. What he finds is something far too expensive to have been delivered to him on accident: one of those posture-correcting seat adjustments that he had been eying for months now that was custom-ordered for his chair. He blinks repeatedly. He hadn’t ordered this, had he? Had he splurged this much money when he was in a drunken haze?
“I didn’t buy this,” Kaveh says, a little breathless.
“Hm.” Alhaitham’s gaze has returned fully to his book. “Interesting.”
“You—” Kaveh puts the pieces together quickly. Face burning, he looks between the gift and Alhaitham. “What did you do?” he accuses.
Alhaitham shrugs one shoulder.
“No, I mean I get that it was you, but what are you apologizing for?”
Alhaitham places a finger into the spine of his book, holding his page. His gaze lifts to Kaveh and he says, without missing a single beat, “Nothing.” Then, he rises from the couch. “I’m starting dinner.” And then, on his way to the kitchen, “You’re welcome, senior. Happy early birthday.”
His poor, poor heart.
* * *
Flirting. Kaveh had thought the word juvenile for most of his life. Now, he grapples with it daily, wondering what it means for different people. Well, mostly just one person. One infuriating, kind, brilliant man who happens to live ten feet down the hall and has held his hair back for him more than once when he’s consumed too much liquor. The very same man who has never shown any interest in dating anyone and yet drops the most dreadfully romantic lines out of nowhere on a Sunday afternoon while they’re sharing coffee and scones and complaining about their jobs.
What does flirting look like for Alhaitham? He’s never really given it much thought. Is it the gentle way he looks at Kaveh in the mornings when he’s too tired to hide it? Is it the gentle brush of a hand in the hall or the lingering look when Kaveh passes by his open door after a shower? Or is it more obvious? Is he reading too much into the slowly shifting dynamic?
Flirting, Kaveh muses. He could try to be more overt with it, just to test the waters.
* * *
And he does, but it doesn’t seem to go anywhere fast.
Each night, Kaveh will quietly pack a lunch for each of them for work the next day. He’ll send Alhaitham a good morning text when he’s already at work, hunched over blueprints, knowing Alhaitham toes the line with ‘normal working hours’. If he’s planning on being out late, he’ll let Alhaitham know and ask if he wants anything on the way home. He’ll text him goodnight if the hour passes midnight (but it doesn’t often, not anymore). Instead of oversized sweaters, he steals some of Alhaitham’s shirts that hang off his shoulder, claiming he’s too busy to do laundry. He even stops complaining about all the ugly furniture Alhaitham’s accumulated over the years in their apartment.
This is what flirting looks like to Kaveh. And yet, nothing changes.
Apparently, he isn’t very good at it.
* * *
Until he is.
* * *
Call it a moment of weakness. Call it a longing for something he’s never had a chance to have, to taste, to feel. Whatever one calls it, it results in the same conclusion: even Kaveh had a tipping point.
He can’t take this back.
If he’s misread this, misconstrued Alhaitham’s platonic kindness for romantic interest, he’s doomed. Imagining Alhaitham, of all people, letting someone down sends chills up and down his spine. No thank you.
(But… seriously… risking their friendship like this? On a whim? Even though it’s a very substantiated and good whim, it’s still a risk, and Kaveh isn’t sure if he’s doing it to self-sabotage or because he’s finally listening to Alhaitham and trying to treat himself better. That he deserves what he wants.)
Kaveh stares down at his phone in absolute horror. He hadn’t actually meant to send it. He had meant to fantasize about sending it, about what he’d receive in turn. He had planned on sending a sweeter selfie later, saying that he missed him. Maybe not in those exact words, but he had been mulling it over for hours and the last few days while Alhaitham was away on travel were miserable.
So, why the fuck had his solution been to send him a nude he had taken earlier in his bedroom mirror when he had been, ah, spending some much needed alone time with himself, his hand and his cock?
All things considered, it’s a good nude. He’s on the edge of his bed, completely naked, knees up towards his chest, legs spread. The hand that isn’t positioned towards the mirror on his door drapes delicately at his waist, artfully hiding his hole and most of his cock. Just the tip peeks out into view, but even then at this distance, it’s difficult to see. What isn’t difficult to see is the kohl around his eyes, smudged from playing with himself as foreplay before taking the photo, and the way his nipples look beet red from abuse. Twisting, tugging, wishing it was someone else’s teeth doing it. If he had to rate this particular nude, he’s give it a solid nine. There was always room for improvement.
… he can imagine Alhaitham saying something similar. Dismissive.
Kaveh hangs his head lower and sucks in a very shaky breath.
He still has time to delete it. Alhaitham, unlike most people, has read receipts on. He hasn’t seen it yet. But he’ll see the preview, maybe already has, in his notifications. He’ll see Kaveh’s bare chest and pert ass and he’ll know he just received something that Kaveh had never sent anyone else.
“This is how I die,” he whispers, hands shaking as he stares at the text screen.
The read receipt appears.
Kaveh’s stomach sinks.
For a second, the three dots appear on screen. Alhaitham’s typing. … and then he isn’t. And then he is. Then he isn’t.
This is absolutely how Kaveh dies.
Pathetically, Kaveh stares up at the ceiling. He knew he shouldn’t have flirted with danger. He very easily could have gotten off without pretending to send the picture to Alhaitham. He had a very active imagination! He had toys! He had…
Oh. Alhaitham responded.
from: alhaitham
why is your hand there?
Kaveh blinks. Twice. Thrice. His stomach drops and then swoops and then… and then does something. Is this disappointment? Excitement? He can’t tell. He tilts his head left and right, then tips the phone upside down. What the fuck kind of response is that?
Too annoyed to think logically, he rapid-fire texts his first irritated thought:
from: kaveh
what? do you want it to move or something?
The dots appear again. Disappear. Appear again.
Kaveh almost gives up on the conversation and any way of salvaging the night. Perhaps he’ll text Alhaitham later and say he was drunk and misread who he was texting, that he sent the nude accidentally and it was for … someone. Anyone else. He’ll think of a convincing lie.
Minutes pass. Maybe even half an hour. He’s lost all will to jerk off, staring bleakly at his ceiling as he runs through all the possibilities of how not to ruin the relationship with his best friend.
And then his phone vibrates again.
from: alhaitham
yes
And then, barely ten seconds later:
from: alhaitham
be home in 5
Five? Five what? Hours? Days? Kaveh stares at the screen again as he slowly processes the first text. Yes. He had said yes? Really? Kaveh licks his lips, heart suddenly racing. No, no, he couldn’t get ahold of himself. This was all some weird misunderstanding he’d scold Alhaitham about later. This was…
It’s only three minutes later that he hears the front door of their apartment open. He hears the telltale steps of Alhaitham’s boots on the wooden flooring and the hasty unzipping of them as they’re tossed into their shoe pile next to the door. He hears heavy steps coming down the hall and he realizes, a bit too late, he’s still naked, half-hard, on his bed with the bedroom door wide open.
Their eyes meet the second Alhaitham reaches his door. All the color drains from Kaveh’s face as he stares back, flat on his back on his bed, leaving very little to the imagination. But hey, at least his hole isn’t on display like some heathen—
“You’re still like that,” Alhaitham says, breathless, and Kaveh isn’t sure he’s ever heard him that way. That… wrecked.
Kaveh swallows a lump of nerves. “So I am.”
Brilliant.
Alhaitham very slowly nods, as if processing what he’s seeing. And then, his eyes wander, from Kaveh’s pretty legs to the even prettier head of his cock that still has a bead of precut on it, all the way up to his hard nipples and sweat-soaked hair.
“You’re beautiful,” is what Alhaitham says, sounding no less wrecked.
Oh. … Oh?
Kaveh slowly sits up, resting his weight back on his elbows. He turns his head fully to face Alhaitham, his cock twitching here and there as he moves. He doesn’t dare to speak. What does he even say? He’s never been in this situation before. Not with Alhaitham, not with anyone he’s cared so much about—
“Did you finish?”
Kaveh lifts a brow. “Finish?”
Alhaitham clears his throat. Almost shyly, he looks to the side and Kaveh can see how hot and red his ears have grown. It’s adorable. What is less adorable is that when his eyes roam lower, he can that Alhaitham’s sweats are sporting an impressive tent. It isn’t adorable, it’s hot.
“Oh. No, I haven’t.” Kaveh licks his lips. He tests the words out in his head, cringing at how awkward they sound, but tries it anyway, “I haven’t come yet.”
Alhaitham clears his throat. “Good.”
Kaveh’s heart lurches. “Good?” he repeats without thinking.
Alhaitham doesn’t answer him. Instead, he paces over and grabs Kaveh’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Kaveh easily goes, eyes wide and lips parted, still a little puffy from having sucked on his dildo earlier.
“Is it all right if I do that for you?”
Oh, Kaveh may die right here.
“Depends,” Kaveh whispers as Alhaitham’s thumb swipes over his bottom lip. It juts just a bit between his lips and Kaveh isn’t shy about letting his tongue teasingly graze across it.
“On?”
“If you’re planning on doing more than that.”
Alhaitham blinks a few times and then something breaks in his expression. He laughs, breathless as before, and then pushes his thumb fully into Kaveh’s mouth. Kaveh’s eyes fall shut and he greedily sucks the tip of it. Round and round it goes, rubbing little circles on the flat of Kaveh’s tongue. Kaveh’s brain short-circuits and he groans in delight around it. The sound comes out muffled, given the circumstances, but he hollows his cheeks and sucks on it a little more deliberately all the same.
“Fuck, Kaveh…” Alhaitham’s other hand very delicately grips the back of his head. Fingers thread into loose golden strands and he urges Kaveh forward, as if guiding him onto his cock instead of his thumb and now index finger that’s slipped inside his wet mouth, too.
Kaveh shifts on the bed. He moves just enough so that he’s still on his knees, facing Alhaitham. Like this, he keeps his head bent enough so that he can properly drag his tongue up and down the length of Alhaitham’s fingers. By the time he sucks on them again, Alhaitham has guided Kaveh’s head forward even more, tightened his grip on his hair. Like this, Alhaitham’s and consequently Kaveh’s face are mere inches from Alhaitham’s crotch.
“You take it so well,” Alhaitham whispers, sounding mesmerized.
Kaveh almost misses the way he can feel Alhaitham shaking. He almost misses the little push of his hips forward, as if fantasizing that instead of fingers it was his cock.
Kaveh pulls his head back with a loud and wet pop.
Staring up at him, he tries to search his gaze. What he finds there is a mix of confidence and shyness, inexperience and eagerness. But what is completely missing is uncertainty. Alhaitham licks his lips, nodding to an unspoken question, and it’s all the confirmation that Kaveh needs.
Eagerly, he pushes forward and mouths over the tent at the front of Alhaitham’s sweats. The low moan that escapes him is otherworldly and Kaveh thinks it may be his new favorite sound. Alhaitham sounds thoroughly fucked, as if no one has ever touched him before. And, as Kaveh licks over the head of the cock trapped beneath fabric, he thinks that may be the reality of things.
“Kaveh,” Alhaitham grunts, pushing forward some now that there’s actually some form of relief on his cock. He shudders when Kaveh licks a stripe over where the tip is and then mouths at it all again, trying to take as much as he can in his mouth.
He grips at Alhaitham’s waist to steady him, to hold him close, and just as he’s beginning to bob his head, to tease Alhaitham as to what’s to come, he feels something insanely hot and wet seeping into his mouth.
Kaveh’s eyes widen and he blinks several times. He remains still, listening to Alhaitham’s haggard breathing above him. Time stands still.
Did he… did he just come? From that?
Kaveh slowly leans back, licking his lips. The undeniable taste of cum floods his senses, coupled with the growing wet spot at the front of Alhaitham’s sweats that is from more than just Kaveh’s spit.
“Shit,” Alhaitham grunts, still shaking. “That’s… I’m sorry.”
Kaveh can’t help the grin that overtakes him. He leans back on his elbows again, admiring the wrecked sight of his best friend. He’s never been prouder in his entire young life.
“You taste good,” Kaveh offers, as some sort of reassurance that it’s okay. He can’t get the words out, can’t say something embarrassingly romantic or sexy, so he settles on that as a compromise.
Alhaitham finally dares to meet his gaze. Cheeks flaming and chest still moving up and down a little slower than before, he lets out a breath Kaveh doubts he even knew he was holding. But it’s short-lived. He sinks down to his knees and pulls Kaveh back to the edge of the bed. It’s clumsy, but he’s quick to toss Kaveh’s legs, one by one, over his broad shoulders. He doesn’t wait before he drops his mouth to Kaveh’s inner thigh, the right one first, then the left, and then a messy, wet line up to the puffy rim of his hole from his solo session earlier.
“Kaveh,” Alhaitham groans, which sounds like a prayer. He grunts a bit as he bites into the tender flesh of Kaveh’s thigh before licking it over as an apology.
Kaveh’s mind goes blank. It feels too good. Any shame Alhaitham may have felt about coming too quickly ought to be out the window the second Kaveh’s whimper breaks through the silence. His hips stutter and he bucks forward, all but burying his hole right under Alhaitham’s nose.
“So needy,” Alhaitham breathes hotly before he gets to work.
His tongue begins to trace random shapes along the rim with varying degrees of pressure. It isn’t until Kaveh is positively squirming that Alhaitham grips one of Kaveh’s ass cheeks with one hand to guide his body up higher while the other moves next to his busy mouth to gently tug at Kaveh’s rim.
“Gods, please,” Kaveh chokes, body shaking. He’s been so close for so long now, even before Alhaitham got home, that he’s certain he won’t last long.
“Of course, senior,” Alhaitham chuckles before he applies more pressure than before. He sucks hard on his rim, making Kaveh keen and throw his head back. When he thinks that’s all he’s going to get, Alhaitham presses his thumb even harder, gingerly prying Kaveh open so that he can dip his tongue and the tip of his tongue inside.
“O-oh,” Kaveh gasps, burying his hands into Alhaitham’s hair. He can’t resist the little roll of his hips forward, delighting in the way Alhaitham moans against his skin and just keeps on licking.
At some point, Alhaitham adds another finger. Something longer than his thumb, certainly, because it thrusts in and out, slow but insistent, until Kaveh starts moaning even louder. His moans melt into repeated pleas, begging to come, and Alhaitham crooks his finger heavenwards. It takes a few tries, but on the third, the angle is just right and Kaveh moans his name as he sees stars, the pressure just right on his prostate.
“So close, so close, Haitham, Haitham, please,” Kaveh rambles, all but grinding against Alhaitham’s face and fingers as he chases his high.
At the very end of it, Alhaitham wraps his fingers around the base of Kaveh’s cock. It’s all that he needs to push him over the edge. White, sticky release comes out in ropes and lands on both his stomach and Alhaitham’s face. Had Kaveh not been so desperate, he could have warned him, could have figured out his preference, could have—
Kaveh’s head lolls back. Too many thoughts.
It’s, by far, the best orgasm of his life. His entire body is still tingling and he’s never felt an orgasm last for nearly a full minute. He isn’t sure he’s ever going to feel this good again.
Slowly, Alhaitham pulls back. He reaches for the tissue box on Kaveh’s nightstand and cleans Kaveh up first before he even thinks to scrub at his own face. Mercifully, none of Kaveh’s cum had landed in Alhaitham’s hair.
Kaveh watches him with unbridled affection. “So… I came.”
Alhaitham blinks a few times. His mind catches up with him, to this moment, to earlier, and the hoarse, raw laugh that escapes him is so fucking beautiful.
“…Evidently.”
And the bastard licks his lips, cleaning the remnants that the tissue didn’t get to.
Kaveh flushes down to his toes. “As did you,” he muses, staring up at the ceiling. His heart keeps pumping faster and faster.
“Clearly.”
He sneaks another peek down at his roommate. Alhaitham is grinning, lazily running fingertips up and down the inside of Kaveh’s leg, from his knee to his calf. It’s insanely adorable.
He isn’t sure how he talks about this, what comes next, what this means, but Alhaitham keeps looking at him like he personally painted the stars in the sky. He feels so besotted and dumb that he hadn’t noticed it before, had ever doubted it.
“So—” Kaveh tries.
“Four years.”
“Huh?”
“Four years,” Alhaitham tells him as he presses a delicate, doting kiss to the inside of Kaveh’s knee. “I’ve wanted to do that for four years.”
Kaveh melts at the honesty of it all. “Oh.” And then, smiling, he shakily says, “since you did a good job, you can do it again. Probably.”
“Probably.” Alhaitham’s eyes nearly twinkle as he squeezes just above Kaveh’s knee. “We need a shower.”
“Is that an invitation?” Kaveh laughs, full of life and hope and the feeling of home. “Okay, sure. Just leave your nasty toothbrush on the sink and we have a deal.” And then, "Get up here and kiss me already, you fool."
And so he does. Again, and again, and again.