[ ...my duties... jamil says, and even woven with gossamer, it slams fervently against the same tired note kalim's been strumming ad nauseum in his heart. kalim's never once allowed himself to wallow in an errant worry until now, never had any reason to tremble against those unshakable beliefs. yet here he is, lips shivering against the poised proximity of jamil's mouth, wavering on the precipice of capturing it, and chest fluttering with each slow inhale of jamil's own breath, as if it's the only air that can make kalim bloom.

it's cruel, isn't it? calling this his duty while pressed so damningly close? kalim should be furious, but he can't find it within himself. jamil tastes like home -- not the walls they grew up in, but the harbor he carries within him -- and so all he manages is a soul-deep ache. ]

You're so much more than duty. You always have been. You know that, right?

[ kalim's not making any progress toward that bed, either. he'll happily defy orders for just a bit longer, if it means driving home this particular point. that, coupled with the opportunity to push their foreheads together and nuzzle their noses fondly. ]

In so many ways. Your worth isn't measured by your ability to serve.