monkmed
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Summary
“You should see the smarmy look on your face,” Wriothesley goads openly, and their expressions trade in a snap. “Let alone your body language. You look like a lounging cat.”
“You look like a dumb stupid idiot,” Lyney snips baselessly.
And, oh god. How Wriothesley’s eyes crinkle with humor, turning away just to laugh behind a calloused hand, and Lyney thinks at long last, I want you.
Fuck. Fuck.
Wriothesley offers temporary solace in his home. Lyney doesn't think before he says yes. Logically, they have sex about it.
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Apparently, the answer to the question, ‘Where do you go when you get in a fight with your boyfriend and end up roaming the streets with a backpack and a burrito?’, is ‘In the passenger seat of your ex-best-friend’s custom Camaro.’
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Or, how Kaveh drifts away from someone who doesn't appreciate him like he deserves, and things get... complicated.
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“I see you didn’t only come back with food,” says Alhaitham, a fine amount of curiosity in the observation.
Kaveh wipes a hand across his forehead as he stands straight once more. “Oh! That’s for you. I picked it up and figured you’d be interested.”
Alhaitham lets a huff through his nose, tilting his head to view the unique purple leatherbound book in full. Curiosity of his own flits over Kaveh’s chest as he spies concentration shift to bewilderment.
“This is for me?” he asks, fingers grazing the engraved characters on the front. “'Shibari'. Do you know what that is?”
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Kaveh picks up a rather instructive book at the market. He really, really should have read it before giving it away so irresponsibly.
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"... Look— think about it. Geniuses of our time?” He raises his brows as his hand sweeps broadly to the side, expressing the obviousness of it. “You are far too well-sculpted for a Scribe, and the amount of times I’ve been told I’m a classic beauty is criminal.” He shrugs against the sheets as Alhaitham raises a responding brow. “Yet, shockingly, we’re not involved."
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Or, 'friends with benefits' for them takes a nosedive into something much softer right from the beginning.
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"He'll tell you that your hair falling in your face as you drafted projects over the table made him want to brush some behind your ear, just to have an excuse touch you. He's romantic, but it's all fantasy."
"It could be real," Kaveh retorts without thinking.
"Could it?" Alhaitham grunts a skeptical noise that makes Kaveh's stomach swoop alongside its cadence. "But it's not what you want, is it."
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Kaveh may or may not have a thing for voices. Alhaitham may or may not set the bar.