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Summary
“You read too much,” Aether murmured, head tilted slightly.
“And you talk too much.”
Their gazes locked—smoldering. The tension between them snapped taut, breath to breath.
“I could help you unwind,” Aether offered, voice low, teasing, the faintest thread of sincerity curling beneath it.
Finally, Alhaitham shut the book with a quiet thud. “You’re already a distraction. You don’t need to offer more.”
Aether didn’t move. “But you like distractions.”
Alhaitham’s chair creaked as he stood, towering slightly over him—broad, composed, with an intensity that smoldered behind his usual aloofness. He reached up, brushing a damp lock of hair from Aether’s cheek, his fingers trailing just a bit too long across warm skin.
“I like useful ones.”
Aether’s lashes dipped, his voice dropping with them. “Then use me.”
or, Aether ended up being a pleasing (and tiring) distraction for Alhaitham.