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Alhaitham’s life can be divided into two neat parts: before and after Kaveh.
It’s laughably simple, when put that way. Before Kaveh, there was his grandmother. There were his books and his libraries and study and research. There was comfort and solitude. There was a stable solidity that he could rely upon.
But after Kaveh—Alhaitham hadn’t been uprooted, even then. Kaveh didn’t displace him from what he already had, only added to it. Where Alhaitham’s world was black and white and grey, Kaveh had added color to it. Little by little, like watercolor and gouache and acrylic that Alhaitham hadn’t realized took up all of his canvas until Kaveh just disappeared one day.
After Kaveh becomes something of a shaky thing, after that.
There’s a period of his life where he’d thought that he’d have to live with after Kaveh leaving, but—but he comes back. All bristly and ready to claw his eyes like a particularly stubborn stray cat, but he comes back, and they settle into a tentative routine.
Déjà vu, it’s almost like. They never lived in the dorms together, but they spent so much time together that they might as well have. Alhaitham remembers how Kaveh likes his coffee. Kaveh remembers how Alhaitham likes his books to be arranged.
And despite how different they are now, Alhaitham takes comfort in the routine. Snipes with Kaveh back and forth over dinner, goes through his day weaving around Kaveh like they were meant to be together.
The only little trip-up in the routine is… well.
Alhaitham wouldn’t judge, of course, because Kaveh can do whatever he wants in his free time. What he wears under his clothes are of no importance to Alhaitham, but once he starts, there’s no way he can stop seeing.
The fact that Kaveh likes to wear lace panties under his clothes.
He’d noticed it, a few months into living together. A flash of red when Kaveh stood up, and Alhaitham had wasted away the rest of the day obsessively looking for another glimpse of it—only to find the answer when he goes to do laundry the next day, the same red fabric bundled in with the rest of Kaveh’s clothes.
It’s understandable that he hadn’t noticed earlier, then, because Kaveh usually liked to volunteer himself for laundry. Is that why…?
And Alhaitham keeps noticing it, almost a daily occurrence now, and Alhaitham thinks he might go insane for the way it’s making him feel, how it’s making him waste away his days.
He’s never felt this before. Never felt the need to touch, to see another person like this. Arousal and sexual experimentations were the furthest thing from him when he was in the Akademiya—until Kaveh came along.
It’s only ever Kaveh that’s his exception from all his rules, it seems.
There’s a day, once, when Alhaitham accidentally walks into the bathroom, thinking it empty, only to come face-to-face with Kaveh who’s dressing himself after showering.
And he can’t help the way his eyes flicker down to take in Kaveh in lacy green panties. It’s the only thing he’s wearing, and yet it looks more indecent than if he were fully naked. For a moment, they stare at each other like they’re both panicking about it.
“…sorry,” Alhaitham mutters after a few more seconds, and turns around to walk right back out. Sits in the living room, staring at nothing for a while until Kaveh sheepishly enters the room with a grim determination to never talk about it.
But it’s like something shifts, after that. Like after being seen one time, Kaveh has thrown all caution to the wind. Like he doesn’t care if Alhaitham sees him now, because he’ll come out for breakfast in the mornings, wearing only a large t-shirt that slips off his shoulder and reveals his panty-clad butt when he bends over.
Alhaitham’s not going to deny that he can’t tear his eyes away from it. That he tracks every curve of Kaveh’s body like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And if Kaveh notices, he doesn’t say anything.
It comes to a head one day, when Alhaitham comes back early from work. Nahida had seen him spacing out and very generously told him to go home early—and Alhaitham has some shame, enough to not tell his archon that his performance had been flagging at work because he was going stupid over his roommate’s panties.
Going back home is a quick affair, and he gets food from Lambad for an early dinner.
When he gets back, however, the house is silent. Kaveh doesn’t have any meetings today, so there should’ve been at least some form of him banging around the house, but it’s eerily quiet. Alhaitham doesn’t call for him yet, only traipsing towards his room to check if he’s still asleep.
But Kaveh’s door is wide open, and what’s inside is—
Alhaitham thinks he forgets to breathe for a moment.
It’s Kaveh, lying back in his bed, an arm thrown over his head, legs spread and hand working on his cock. There’s something filthily indecent about the picture he paints—half undressed, no pants and his usual white shirt open at his chest. He hadn’t bothered to take his panties off, either. His cock peeks out of the fabric, framing it in a way that makes Alhaitham’s head spin.
And his own cock is hard, apparently, and he doesn’t even realize, too focused on Kaveh, until his hand moves instinctively to touch himself—and he must make a noise, because Kaveh freezes and blinks wide red eyes open at him.
For a moment, like that day in the bathroom, they both freeze, like they don’t quite know how to react. But there’s a glint in Kaveh’s eye, like he’s made up his mind about something, determined to get what he wants—and Alhaitham loves that look on him more than anything else.
“Well?” Kaveh says, a taunt in his voice, “Are you going to finally join me? I thought you were going to, y’know. You’ve been staring so much.”
Alhaitham registers the words through a haze. All he know is that Kaveh invited him—and all he can do is rush to the bed to clamber over Kaveh—and he looks even better up close, Alhaitham thinks, spread open and laughing delightedly when Alhaitham can't resist and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone.
“You great puppy,” Kaveh says affectionately, winding his arms around his neck. “You aren’t subtle.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” Alhaitham says, but then he needs Kaveh to know—“I—I haven’t—never, not with anyone else.”
“I know,” Kaveh says, and runs his fingers down Alhaitham’s arms, making him shiver. His cock is still pretty and pink between them, and Alhaitham, in a trance, grasps it firmly in his hand. A wave of heat pulses through him when Kaveh moans. “I don’t think you were ever together with anyone.”
“No,” Alhaitham squeezes his eyes shut, “not like that. I’ve—never felt sexual attraction. Only—only you. It’s only ever been you.” And it’s too close to a confession, too close to love, but when a hand brushes over his cheek, he opens his eyes to look at Kaveh smiling softly under him.
“Oh, Alhaitham,” Kaveh sighs, but he’s still smiling, “Just kiss me.”
And Alhaitham does, listens to him, as Kaveh gets his pants open and slots their cocks up together, his hand tugging the both of them to completion. He’s short of breath, fixated on the way the lines of Kaveh’s arm work, the muscles that shift under his skin as he wraps his legs around Alhaitham’s hips for better angle. Alhaitham tries to help, but he’s fumbling, lost on what to do until Kaveh laughs against his mouth to relax and Alhaitham lets Kaveh take the lead.
And they come like that, over Kaveh’s stomach, and Alhaitham thinks that this is the prettiest he’s ever seen Kaveh. Happy and spent and a mess and it makes Alhaitham want to—ruin him more or take care of him, he’s not really sure.
But Kaveh notices him staring and jokes about him being a pervert, and Alhaitham kisses him again to shut him up, just because he can, and vows to buy Kaveh full lingerie sets for them to enjoy later.