boinkybo
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Kaveh, Al-Haitham, and the “I can’t afford rent this month” trend. Featuring Mehrak.
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Wriothesley was an important figure, head administrator of Fontaine’s greatest prison fortress as you were quickly reminded. And you were, well, you. An upstanding, law-abiding citizen, sure, but that was it. What would happen when Wriothesley found someone more suitable to his position as Duke? What happens when the excitement of courting a commoner dials down, and he begins to explore his options? Better you push him away first before he has the chance.
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“All worked up, big guy?” Your smile grows when all he does is pick up the pace, glaring at you.
“Watch it,” he barks, pulling out a condom from seemingly thin air and tearing the package between his teeth before slipping it over himself.
“I’m watching.”
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The duality of obsessing over this man.
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You gasp a little at the movement, a bit ticked off at how stubborn the Duke is, a bit taken aback by all the physical contact. “What could you not be ok with? Your Grace.” You tack on the title for added measure. “The problem’s resolved and I promise to atone for my actions. Pay for the consequences as you said.” You tilt your head just so and bat your lashes, recalling how much that little action affects him. Wriothesley hums a little in contemplation.
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
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To keep this concise, Al-Haitham could no longer imagine a life without Kaveh, a home without him. More often than not, the two bickered and argued over the littlest of things, but even these disputes Al-Haitham had come to enjoy, come to look forward to. To love. Sure, there were days were he enjoyed tranquility in silence. There were days Kaveh spent out of the house, leaving quiet in his wake. But he always came back. Had he been to hard on Kaveh lately? Had he said one too many things out of turn? “When,” his voice came out hoarse, hurried. Al-Haitham cursed himself silently as he cleared his throat. “When do you leave.”
Or; Al-Haitham is worried Kaveh might leave their house