a low groan slips from blade's lips when warm palms glide over his bare skin,   slow and deliberate.   he should protest.   he should correct him for calling him wife.   of all the ridiculous things he can call him.   kaveh says it so easily,   so shamelessly.   blade knows he ought to argue because if he doesn't,   kaveh will keep saying it with an infuriating soft smile.   yet the protest dies on his lips before it can form.   because of the way kaveh looks at him.   because of the way that he touches him.   blade has never been unfamiliar with using his body as leverage.   a distraction.   a weapon.   a means to an end.   fleeting encounters were simple.   he could perform desire without ever offering sincerity.

fingers map every scar.   others have called them beautiful,   a proof of survival.   to blade,   they are reminders.   damage.   ruin carved into flesh,   and yet kaveh traces them so adoringly and earnestly.   it is profoundly disarming.

kaveh's touch is unhurried,   like searching for something deeper than mere heat and desire.   the intent is there,   to connect with one another not just through physical desire.   blade meanwhile seeks silence.   just the blessed quiet that comes after.     ❛❛  the marks won't last.  ❜❜     he mutters roughly.   by morning,   the mara will erase any evidence of this encounter.  even tenderness is refused.   his teeth grit as his face is lifted from the pillow,   fingers threading into his hair.    ❛❛  don't tease me so much.  ❜❜     he urges,   impatience laced into his voice.   the answer comes in a sharper movement.   sharp enough to make him grip the sheets tighter and enough for heat to stir in his stomach.  but it is still not enough.

blade shifts onto his knees,   claiming more control from this angle.   his hips roll back in a slow and insistent motion.   chasing friction.   chasing that state where the mind finally goes mercifully blank.   like this it is easier for him to dictate the pace and lose himself.   he does not look over his shoulder because this is not the same as before.   this is not the night they made love.

❛❛  you know what i want.  ❜❜     he comments.   but despite saying he will give anything he asks,   he knows kaveh won't give it until he specifically states what he wants.      ❛❛  just   ...   take me properly,  ❜❜     he breathes,   the words less rough now.     ❛❛  i don't want to think.  ❜❜     he doesn't want tenderness right now.   he doesn't want to be adored and studied like something precious.   he wants to feel,   and only feel, right now.      ❛❛  or else i'll roll us over and do it myself.  ❜❜     and he won't stop riding him until he reaches that moment of bliss.