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Summary
Kaveh’s other hand, sticky with sugar, comes up to cradle Al-Haitham’s jaw and slip into his hair, and Al-Haitham doesn’t even care. How can he? He only cares about Kaveh, Kaveh and the feeling of his touch and his mouth.
Every time they break apart, Kaveh whispers three words to him before kissing him once more, and Al-Haitham takes those words and tucks them somewhere within him, underneath his collarbone and deep within his rib cage.
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A glimpse into Al-Haitham and Kaveh's summers
