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There are only a handful of things that have the ability to confound Alhaitham.
There’s the traveler, for reasons far too obvious and admittedly, far beyond his reach.
The traveler is both an outlier and a crucial factor in the grand scheme of things, in both the divine and secular sense. Alhaitham has heard it in exchanged whispers and read it in countless periodicals—clothed in the sun and stars, blessed by the earth and wind, favored by the trees and flowers, the traveler encompasses both the known and unknown.
Then there’s the General Mahamatra. Equally feared and respected, most scholars, sages, and personnel of the Akademiya would rather not get too close to Cyno, satisfied with observing from a distance. Cyno is calm and composed, not one to easily give in to his emotions and always maintains an air of professionalism.
And, perhaps, the same could be said about Alhaitham himself. While Alhaitham considers such comparison unwarranted, he knows it is what people have observed: ‘wise, stoic, and unforgiving, both the General Mahamatra and the Acting Grand Sage are two peas in a pod.’
It’s a false statement, untrue in the knowledge that both Alhaitham and Cyno rarely see eye to eye. There are certain instances where they do, of course, such as those related to the complications surrounding the Akademiya and Lord Kusanali but those are mere exceptions and not at all the norm.
Alhaitham has always believed in that disparity, had long accepted that he and Cyno were meant to work in completely separate factions, stationary in their own sphere with their own steady paths and anchored in their own convictions. But like many things in this world, Alhaitham has come to learn that such belief is susceptible to change. Like a boulder on the precipice of a cliff, one stray wind could cause it to tumble down and eventually, catalyze a landslide.
Perhaps it was due to the traveler and the incongruous band of characters they had unintentionally formed to oust Azar and save Lord Kusanali.
Or perhaps it stems from a strict sense of duty, coming from the General Mahamatra to the Acting Grand Sage.
Which brings us to the present.
Alhaitham is sitting behind his desk in his old office. As the Acting Grand Sage, he’d been told to relocate to a room that is befitting of his new title. It was a title he had never wanted and had only begrudgingly accepted as a favor for Lord Kusanali so he at least wanted a say in where he would be spending most of his time in. He’d remained steadfast amidst the sages’ blatant disapproval.
It doesn’t help that the amount of workload he has to deal with rivals even the tallest tree in Apam Woods. There is much to do after the mutiny of Azar and the other sages and it has taken up a significant amount of time and effort just to get the internal order in check. He can’t afford to concern himself with matters like status and propriety.
“Alhaitham.”
Alhaitham draws his gaze away from an unnecessarily detailed report and latches onto bright red-orange eyes. He’d been so engrossed in his work that he had failed to hear his door open.
“The General Mahamatra,” he drawls, knows he doesn’t need to put any air of lukewarm respect in Cyno’s presence. Perhaps something had indeed changed in the wake of recent events. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Cyno hardly blinks as he avoids the question and deflects. “Your office is a mess.”
Alhaitham raises an eyebrow at the preamble (the Mahamatra rarely speaks with them) and looks around. It is true, his office is in chaos. His once organized bookshelf is now spilling with books that were haphazardly squeezed into nooks and crannies. The spattering of desks and stools crowding his office are covered with stacks of documents and other relevant papers. The floor is also covered with reports, reminiscent of loose sand piles in the deserts of Western Sumeru. In summation, his office does not look like a pretty sight.
“Hm. You’re right. I don’t suppose I’ve transgressed any Ordinance pertaining to… the cleanliness of one’s study space, have I?” Alhaitham knows such a notion is foolish. As the previous Scribe, he had knowledge of any and all Ordinances. There is no such thing in the records. And he knows Cyno knows, as well, sees it in the way the corner of his lips twitch in expertly veiled amusement.
“It is a possibility,” Cyno says, crossing his arms in his signature nonchalant fashion. “If the Lord Kusanali wills it so, then it must be done.”
“And what if the Acting Grand Sage does not agree?” A lilt of amusement coats Alhaitham’s words.
“Then I shall force him,” Cyno replies matter-of-factly. Ah, yes. This is the daunting, merciless General Mahamatra. Alhaitham supposes he should be quaking in fear.
“And is that what you aim to do here?” Alhaitham goads, gesturing towards the Mahamatra.
Uncharacteristically, Cyno hesitates. He purses his lips and seems to be contemplating his answer as Alhaitham looks on with a strange fascination. Cyno is loyal to his job and executes it with integrity. His sense of justice is never swayed and his sense of duty is unbreakable. Cyno had always spoken to him without pretense. But that was back when they hardly spoke more than a sentence to each other, with Alhaitham as a mere Scribe. Seeing the General hesitate is odd.
And yet, compelling.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Cyno finally answers, walking over to stand in front of Alhaitham’s desk. Alhaitham follows his movements with a calculated gaze, intrigued. “I don’t intend to presume that you would not agree, but out of respect to Lord Kusanali, I will do what she requests regardless and ask you whether or not you need my assistance in your daily tasks.”
Phrased in that manner, it is clear to Alhaitham that Cyno, if anything, is less than thrilled about this but is willing to ignore his own feelings for the sake of his responsibilities and duties. Alhaitham is surprised, to say the least. Lord Kusanali has always been as perceptive as she is kind. The fact that she had requested Cyno to interject on her behalf speaks multitudes. Did Alhaitham look so busy to the Akademiya that the Archon herself deigned it important for the General Mahamatra to aid him?
There is also the fact that Cyno would willingly take on an order which consists of spending time with Alhaitham. Alhaitham had thought they were in an unspoken agreement to stay on their own side of the domain. But he had thought wrong.
Certainly confounding.
Alhaitham could very well turn him down and that would be the end of it. They would go about their merry ways and only continue to interact if essential. But something about their conversations (both in the present and in the recent events that led to Alhaitham becoming the Acting Grand Sage) and the ease in which it had flowed, the thundering of excitement albeit infinitesimal that was sparked, and the inexplicable look in Cyno’s eyes that are just practically begging to be unearthed is enough for Alhaitham to betray both his and Cyno’s expectations.
“If the General wills it so, then I shall have no qualms,” Alhaitham says, echoing Cyno’s words in a move to get the Mahamatra to uncoil himself. If Cyno was surprised at Alhaitham’s acquiescence he was careful not to show it. “But if the General is busy, then I will accept whatever outcome.” Alhaitham gives Cyno one last chance to retract his offer. An unwilling participant will always prove a fruitless endeavor.
“It is of no moment. The Akademiya has been rejuvenated with an overwhelming sense of academic integrity thanks to the recent efforts of Lord Kusanali. A day away from my responsibilities will not affect my duties.” Cyno says, his voice deep and clear.
Alhaitham nods. “Well, then,” he proffers the stack of papers he’d been holding to Cyno. “I would tell you to settle down and review this…titillating report, but as it stands, my office lacks space to accommodate anyone else.”
Cyno huffs quietly and resumes his default stance—arms crossed and lips slightly pouted, red-orange eyes slightly hidden by silver locks. He looks smug. Alhaitham supposes he has the right to be. “Perhaps I should just leave you and draft a proposal to consider having disorderly offices an academic offense, effective immediately.”
Much to his chagrin, Alhaitham smirks as the other fights back a small smile.
“Perhaps.”
Alhaitham has seen the General Mahamatra in action before, in events that lead to inevitable pursuits around the forests and deserts of Sumeru. Kindness is not what he is known for, certainly, but when the situation calls for it, it is one that he gives in plenitudes.
The General Mahamatra is kind, yes. But only to those who deserve such mercy and respect.
Alhaitham is not sure where he lies on that scale, but if this is not kindness then what is it?
The Mahamatra had made it clear the last time he had spoken with Alhaitham; that he would only be helping him for a day. But a day had turned into two and two into four until the days have blurred into a seamless cycle of red-orange eyes, silver hair, crossed arms, and pouty lips. A seemingly endless stretch of Cyno.
Alhaitham hears soft and sure-footed footsteps, a sound that he has quickly grown accustomed to in the past few weeks. There’s the telltale charged electric atmosphere mixed with the subtle hint of Apam Wood thunderstorms and sweet Henna Berries. Alhaitham didn’t have to look to know who it is.
They had agreed to meet at Aaru Village, the ideal checkpoint if one dares to venture into the Great Red Sand. Alhaitham had wanted to check on new runes that had been cropping up around the dunes of King Deshret. A few scholars have explained what they had seen in vivid detail in their reports but as a matter of validation (and curiosity), Alhaitham found himself itching to see them with his very own eyes.
He’d mentioned it only in passing, when Cyno had stopped by his office to help him with the towering stack of reports that had suddenly appeared on top of one of his desks. He’d meant it to be a mere stray comment, as what they have been exchanging in the past couple of days. Such a declaration does not promise a lengthy discussion nor a heated debate, but is a token of respect, an acknowledgement of one’s presence. Alhaitham did not expect it to be taken as an invitation.
“I have some business in Caravan Ribat on the same day. You intend to go alone, yes? Perhaps I could join you,” Cyno had said.
“Perhaps.” Alhaitham had replied, surprised to find that he did not mind the assistance.
As Cyno draws nearer, the rays of sunlight proving a devastating backdrop against the lithe figure, Alhaitham studies him—from the tips of the ears of his jackal headdress to the grains of sand attaching themselves to his bare soles. Something about the desert should have roughened his edges, the natural rust brown filter of the never-ending desert breeze should have painted a harsher image of the threatening General Mahamatra. But instead of accentuating the rigid lines of his face, the desert seems to have draped him in a dream-like aura. The lines of his body are soft and supple-looking, cushioned by the warm climate and golden glow of the sun and sands.
Alhaitham finds that he cannot stop staring and focuses his gaze on his face. And immediately frowns. “You’re hurt,” Alhaitham says in greeting, slowly closing the book in his hands. He places it on the table and cautiously moves forward to meet Cyno.
“The offender had hired some extra help. I had expected it so I was able to avoid the graver injuries. I’m all right,” Cyno assures him, quick and dependable as always.
Alhaitham continues to frown, eyes trained on the wide and deep scar marring his right cheek and temple. Unable to help himself, he lifts his hand and cups Cyno’s chin. The Mahamatra tenses at the unexpected touch but does not pull away and instead fixes his eyes on Alhaitham. Alhaitham returns it with the same intensity, feels his pulse quicken at the inexplicable depth of Cyno’s unwavering vermillion gaze, then drifts to the offensive scar. Alhaitham gently rubs his thumb a few inches below the line of the scar on his cheek, examining and committing it to memory. Cyno’s breath hitches at the gesture.
Somehow, the particular shade of red that follows his scar does not suit him.
Alhaitham drops his hand and takes a step back, wondering when he had gotten so close. Cyno is still looking at him with the same scintillated stare, but there’s a mix of uneasiness, an unspoken question that has tainted his gaze. Alhaitham, too, commits that to memory.
“Take a seat. We will leave once your injuries are taken care of,” Alhaitham instructs. Nay. Commands .
“I’ve already told you: I am fine. These won’t hinder me from traversing the desert.” Cyno refuses to sit down.
Alhaitham levels him with a disapproving stare. Then sighs. “Fine. Then we won’t leave until we pay Candace a visit.” He turns around and makes a move towards Candace’s home when he feels a hand wrap around his forearm. Alhaitham resists the urge to snicker in amusement. Bringing up Candace was a good decision. He knows the Guardian won’t let Cyno venture into the desert without patching his injuries up and coupling it with a lecture.
“There is no need to bother Candace.” Cyno says with a slight tremble only perhaps only Alhaitham could detect.
Success.
“Then let’s stop by Maruf before we leave.” Alhaitham turns in the other direction towards the doctor’s house and Cyno’s hand falls back to his side. He follows the taller man with a resigned sigh.
It’s a few days after their endeavor around the Hypostyle Desert. Although Alhaitham had come up empty-handed, unable to successfully locate the alleged new runes, he did not find himself unsatisfied.
Reading, unmoving and in silence with Cyno in his office is one thing, venturing into the precarious elements with him is another. Where Alhaitham could conveniently focus all his attention on the documents laid out before in his office, the desert pales in comparison to the General Mahamatra in capturing Alhaitham’s attention. The rough sand beneath their feet, the golden hue of the boundless vistas before them, the mystifying ruins standing before them, and the almost crushing weight of the heat remain inconsequential in the presence of the General Mahamatra. With no new rune in sight, it only served to disinterest Alhaitham even more.
Alhaitham wonders when Cyno had successfully taken up space in his daily life. As he looks around his office, he starts to see— notice —traces of the General Mahamatra’s presence (absence). The lone Karmaphala wood chair and desk at the far right to his own desk which serves as the lone oasis in the desert of documents that is his room, the spot Cyno frequents, now cold in his absence. The dirty cloth sat on top of the desk, used by Cyno to wipe down his polearm after coming from several encounters with pitiful hooligans.
And there, hanging near the door amongst the sundry keys and tokens, is Cyno’s library pass.
One cannot enter the House of Daena—the pinnacle of wisdom and research, the humble abode of those who seek truths and dedicate themselves to the pursuit of knowledge—without one which only speaks of its value. Alhaitham himself does not leave his pass around willy-nilly and always carries it with him. As do most scholars and researchers of the Akademiya.
Alhaitham wonders about this trinket the most, what its presence in Alhaitham’s base of operations signifies. Surely, the General could not have forgotten about it, so negligence is out of the question. Is it respect? Trust? For all the amount of focus and time Alhaitham has recently dedicated to observing Cyno, the General still continues to confound him.
Today, however, the pass is nowhere to be seen, which leads Alhaitham to only one conclusion.
At that thought, Alhaitham closes his book and gently places it beside a stack of reports concerning this month’s list of academic offenders and their respective offenses. It had been drafted by the General Mahamatra and was required of him to submit to the Grand Sage every last week of the month. Alhaitham had been putting it off, determined to go through it on a day when Cyno would join him. It was for practicality. If he had any questions regarding the report he could start a conversation with the author himself. It likewise gives him a chance to converse with Cyno. Two birds with one stone.
But today seems to be escaping him. It’s usually the day of the week when Cyno would join him so he’d been reserving that day to review the report. But Cyno is not here and thus he can’t go about the order of his day.
So, Alhaitham pieces the puzzle together and decides to pursue the ultimate favorable outcome.
He enters the library after showing his pass to the scholar stationed at the foyer. He might be the Acting Grand Sage, but knowledge is far more noble and is beyond status. In the Akademiya, your library pass might just rival the value of your life.
He rounds the concaves of the library, passing by shelves of antique books and tables full of focused researchers. Alhaitham is meticulous in everything he does and looking for a certain red-eyed and silver-haired Mahamatra is no exception. He nods at passing researchers when he is greeted and holds up an open palm in acknowledgement at scholars when he needs to.
He’s now in a secluded area of the library which is only frequented by those who concern themselves with the inner workings of the Akademiya. It’s relatively quiet and empty.
It isn’t until he quickly rounds a shelf in order to reroute himself towards the main section of the library when he catches a whiff of charged petrichor and a familiar floral scent. He edges towards the end of the bookshelf when he sees them—the traveler and their quite annoying floating companion.
And Cyno.
They’re crowding a single lane of a bookshelf and it seems that Cyno was in the middle of leafing through a book when the traveler had arrived. Alhaitham quickly positions himself in a way that makes his presence inconspicuous to the aforementioned two and listens in.
“So, what have you been doing these days, Cyno? Catching some academic hooligans? Chasing ruffians across the bustling cities, the elephantine forests, and the vast deserts of Sumeru?” Paimon says in their typical high-pitched squeak. They’re lucky they’re in an empty section of the library. People have been kicked out of the library for much less.
“Wow, so poetic of you, Paimon,” the traveler remarks dryly, looking at Paimon with an exasperated yet fond expression. The other just replies with an ‘I try’ before they both turn back their attention to Cyno.
“My duties go beyond just apprehending nuisances,” Cyno starts, his voice gravelly and low. “Lord Kusanali has asked me to aid the Acting Grand Sage in his daily tasks.”
“The Acting Grand Sage? Alhaitham?” Paimon exclaims in equal parts disbelief and terror. Alhaitham regards Paimon in the same way.
“Yes,” Cyno says plainly.
The traveler looks contemplative at the new information then smiles at Cyno kindly. “That sounds great! How are you both faring?”
“It’s… We’re doing fine.”
Paimon raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Care to elaborate, Cyno? You can rant to me about what that Alhaitham is putting you through! I can only imagine how strict he is when it comes to work!”
“There is nothing to elaborate on. Work is work and we’re both doing our parts,” Cyno pauses for a moment, looking pensive. “We’ve never seen eye to eye and we barely spoke at all before our elaborate scheme to take down Azar. But these past weeks have been… tolerable.”
The traveler perks up suddenly, a sparkle in their eyes. “You’ve become good friends with Alhaitham already, Cyno?”
“I… I wouldn’t say ‘friends’, exactly…” Cyno shifts his gaze away from the traveler’s beaming expression, clearly discomfited. “Perhaps… work partners…?”
The traveler notices his discomfort and flashes him another one of their understanding smiles. “It’s alright, Cyno. You don’t need to put a name to it. Just hearing you and Alhaitham working together in the Akademiya is already a miracle!”
“A miracle, you say,” Cyno mumbles under his breath, says it more to himself than his companions but shares it all the same.
“Yes! Nothing short of miraculous! Truly, only possible through the intervention of Nahida! Though I wonder how exactly you can tolerate him. He must have forced you to do so much of his work!” Paimon huffs, their clear dislike of Alhaitham shining through. Alhaitham finds it amusing.
“He has not,” Cyno says immediately. Then returns to look thoughtful, careful of his words, struggling. “Everything I do in the Akademiya, I do willingly. Lord Kusanali might have asked me the favor but she also would not have forced it upon me. I…assisted Alhaitham willingly. And I have no regrets.”
“No regrets?” The traveler says.
“Tighnari has always told me that people are always more than what they seem. I thought such a thing would never apply to someone like Alhaitham,” Cyno says in a rushed manner, as if such words would only leave him if he forces them too. “But the past few weeks have proved me wrong.”
Cyno and the traveler were better friends than Alhaitham thought. For the General to speak so plainly about his thoughts and… feelings concerning Alhaitham is a testament to their close relationship. Alhaitham crosses his arms, leans against the shelf and takes his right soundproof earpiece off, suddenly more invested in the conversation he’s eavesdropping on.
“What makes you say that, Cyno? Did something happen?” The traveler urges, likewise as interested in this conversation as Alhaitham for some reason. “You can always talk to me if you find yourself lost in your thoughts or feelings. I promise I won’t tell a soul!”
“It’s more comfortable than I thought, being with Alhaitham,” Cyno starts slowly, surrendering himself to the traveler. “Lately, I’ve been finding myself lowering my guard around him.”
Ah. So that is what it was. Alhaitham thinks of the library pass.
“We ventured into the Great Red Sand a few days ago in search of new runes. We came up empty-handed but the journey was… pleasant. Unexpected.”
“Unexpected?”
“A foreign sensation had overwhelmed me during the trip,” Cyno hums, thumb and forefinger pinching his chin. “Perhaps it was the heat. I’ve been having trouble identifying it.”
The traveler smiles widely and brightly. “Maybe you should try asking Alhaitham if he felt the same sensation! It never hurts to ask!”
Paimon turns to the traveler with a knowing grin and narrowed eyes. “You—”
“See? Paimon agrees. Don’t you, Paimon?” The traveler sounds near maniacal at this point, which is saying something.
Paimon nods vigorously in reply. “Yes, yes!”
“Perhaps I will,” Cyno finally says, nodding, his jackal headpiece swaying. “Thank you, traveler.”
“No need to thank me!” The traveler says, eyes glimmering and pearly whites on full display. “Well, we shall leave you to do your research. Paimon and I will see what we can do with the new runes you have mentioned!”
Then, just like that, the traveler and their companion are gone, leaving a ruminating Cyno in their wake. Where they find their boundless energy, especially so early in the morning is something Alhaitham does not want to know.
“I’ve heard you find it comfortable, being with me,” Alhaitham finally makes his presence known, stepping around the edges of the shelf and strides down the lane.
“Alhaitham,” Cyno greets, voice an octave lower in caution. The tone sends a bolt of electricity down Alhaitham’s spine. “You’ve been listening.” A statement, not a question.
“What would you do If I answer in the affirmative?” Alhaitham challenges, finally stopping an arms-length away from the Matra.
“Nothing,” Cyno says and huffs, leaning against the shelf, his book now closed in his hand. He closes his eyes. “Although your act belies how professionally you have viewed our relationship, you listening in would save me all the trouble from having to discuss it with you, should you have any questions regarding my recent behavior towards you.”
“Oh, so we do have a ‘relationship’?” Alhaitham raises his brow, deliberately ignoring everything else that he had said and focusing on that singular word. “The traveler did say we need not define it, but I have to admit I am curious.”
Cyno’s red eyes flash open and quickly settle on Alhaitham. A clash of reds, oranges, and greens. “Then, this sensation in the desert I spoke of. You must have felt it too.”
“Perhaps.” Alhaitham says noncommittally. “I am trying out a hypothesis for it. I would appreciate it if you would cooperate with me, my General Mahamatra.”
They were past the point of hesitations.
And just as wellㅡno one would dare disturb them in this section of the library.
“All right.”
With that, Alhaitham takes a step closer, almost crowding Cyno against the bookshelf. “What you said about becoming comfortable with me, is that true?”
Cyno’s breath hitches when Alhaitham leans down. “Yes.”
“Hm.” Alhaitham stops leaning down until his face is about an inch apart from Cyno’s. He lifts a hand towards Cyno’s right cheek and lets it hover. “It is the same for me.” He lowers his hand until it’s fially cupping Cyno’s soft cheek. Cyno does not make a move to pull away and instead tilts his head toward it.
His red eyes are arresting, only leaving Alhaitham even more on edge.
“I also thought I knew everything there was about you with the way you were in our Akademiya days,” Alhaitham starts, caressing Cyno’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. Cyno’s cheeks are slowly beginning to warm. “But I, too, was proven wrong.”
Cyno does not respond, only keeps his eyes locked onto Alhaitham’s. It sears something inside Alhaitham.
“And the trip to the desert. It didn’t yield the result that I had wanted but I have to agree with you. It was certainly—” Alhaitham moves impossibly closer, their lips now a hair's breadth apart. He can feel Cyno’s warm breath on him, stuttering in their proximity. His eyes are likewise wavering, his long silver lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he breathes. It’s tantalizing. “—pleasant.”
“I’d say we’re good friends now. Aren’t we?” Alhaitham whispers against Cyno’s lips.
Cyno’s eyes darken as he weighs his options, his gaze flittering back and forth from Alhaitham’s eyes to his lips.
Alhaitham has committed to this, has weighed the pros and cons of entertaining his desires pertaining to the General Mahamatra. But Cyno has not. Alhaitham has decided to give Cyno an out; a chance to banish these desires to the depths of the abyss forever.
It seems like a stretch of forever when, finally, Cyno speaks.
“I beg to disagree,” Cyno starts. And Alhaitham freezes, trying to comprehend Cyno’s sudden disapproval. Did Alhaitham misstep? He’s quickly going through all the possible reasons and slowly pulling away when Alhaitham feels a warm hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him.
Alhaitham brings his gaze back to Cyno, sees the warm amber of his red eyes and feels the hand on his shoulder find its way to settle on the back of his neck. There’s a fluttering in his stomach that Alhaitham can only label as anticipation.
“We’re more like partners, aren’t we?” Cyno whispers back, inclining his head closer, slowly closing the gap that Alhaitham had left.
Alhaitham is shaken out of his stupor. He huffs good naturedly at Cyno’s words and snakes his other arm around Cyno’s petite waist.
“Partners.” Alhaitham agrees.
Then Cyno smiles and Alhaitham leans down to press a soft kiss on the side of Cyno’s neck. Alhaitham hears him suck in a breath and smirks against his skin.
He nuzzles into the side of Cyno’s neck and nips at the underside of his jaw. The hand at the back of Alhaitham’s neck tightens, spurring Alhaitham to leave trails of kisses from the base of the column of his throat to the side of his cheek.
It’s an all new tender that Alhaitham was not sure he would be able to afford. But as he looks into Cyno’s eyes, sees the same longing mirrored in those sunset-colored pools, he eliminates all doubts and apprehension.
He presses his thumb against Cyno’s bottom lip and tugs it downwards, forcing his lips to part. Cyno’s eyes darken and he starts to whisper his name when Alhaitham eclipses his lips with a kiss.
It’s the spark and the inevitable flame all at once. Alhaitham tightens his hold around Cyno’s waist and moves his other hand to clutch at the strands at the back of Cyno’s neck, effectively forcing Cyno to bare more of himself to Alhaitham. Cyno lets out a low broken moan, stifled by Alhaitham’s advances.
Cyno’s hands have moved to comb through Alhaitham’s silver locks, spurring Alhaitham to kiss him even deeper. It’s a clash of teeth and tongue as Cyno allows Alhaitham to move even deeper, his tongue hot and wet and relentless. Cyno responds in kind, so pliant, so docile, and so perfect for Alhaitham.
It must have lasted only minutes, but to the both of them it might have well lasted forever.
They pull away, breaths heavy and lips plush and red. Cyno’s cheek are apple red and his eyes are glazed. Alhaitham would not mind missing lunch to tease him even more.
He caresses Cyno’s warm cheek and rests his forehead against his.
“Partners,” he repeats, his voice hoarse with their ministrations. “And, perhaps, something more?” Alhaitham ventures further into the bounds allowed by Cyno, heart beating wildly in his chest. He squeezes Cyno’s waist to spur the other into answering.
Cyno scoffs. He extricates a hand from Alhaitham’s hair and softly runs the pads of fingers against Alhaitham’s chin and lips. Alhaitham closes his eyes briefly to savor the touch.
"Perhaps.”