﴾ is the only argument jamil really has, and even then, it's the sole virtue kalim can actually lord above him. only one of them has broken a promise — in such a disastrous display that jamil was almost glad for azul's intervention and the prospect of not having to live with his own ineptitude much longer — and that person is not kalim. he's solid, when it comes to that at least.
in a lot of other ways, too. kalim can always be counted on for a smile, something jamil never even knew to appreciate in him before it went away. it turns out that the absence of all that sunshine is a far greater loss than he'd previously surmised; there's just this hint of sadness in his eyes now, a gloomy cast over that decadently-honeyed face, and oh but jamil can't fucking stand it. his eyes narrow viciously as kalim's touch snares and spreads. ﴿
I know perfectly well what I can and cannot do. I will be going nowhere until your work is complete and you are cleaned and tucked into bed.
﴾ and then he'll wait, as always, in the shadows of kalim's room for the same threat that never comes. it really doesn't matter if it does or does not become a reality; it's happened before, at home, and the only thing that jamil can control is that he will be here, more prepared than all the times before.
to speak of such a thing as if it is even an option cuts so much deeper than kalim will ever know. or maybe he has little hints here and there, in the way jamil's perfectly manicured claws snare him by the collar of his shirt and drag him closer still, maybe even by the proprietorial manner in which jamil dusts kalim's hair away from his face until it's perfectly arranged once more. he is bold enough now to look entirely pleased with himself too, his brow arched smugly as his fingers slither up the back of kalim's neck and seize the finer, shorter hairs at its nape. ﴿
And now you cannot make me, since you value my agency so much.
[ kalim can't deny it, especially not when his head is falling back to chase jamil's touch. it's something to be savored, and kalim is more intimately aware of that fact than he ever has been before. but he's becoming more familiar with a lot of alien concepts recently. self-doubt is chief among them. he never had any reason to doubt himself before. his confidence was unshakeable. because failure is inevitable, only an opportunity to learn, and his most ardent pillars of support could never flag under a little tremor like defeat.
jamil's pillar was always the thickest, the most central. steadfast, diamond and titanium, invisible but coveted above all things. he played his part so completely, so perfectly, that kalim never even saw the cracks. there was so much taken for granted; that jamil was as happy to be beside him as kalim was to have him, that he was there because he wanted to be, that he resented nothing and helped only because there was love between them. illusions unnumbered, and kalim believed every one. how could he ever think to question it, when it was all he ever knew?
for a single, terrifying moment, kalim was certain that jamil's treasured pillar had never been there at all. that everything he'd known about their lives had been a carefully-constructed and cleverly-maintained lie. that every win jamil ever let him have, that every note left in his satchel, that every touch and every kiss, had been nothing more than obligation. it's a seed of doubt that's blossomed into a choking vine, or into the poisoned pull of a marionette's strings, tugging every notion deep into the shadow of doubt before kalim can even attempt to dismiss it.
it crushed him, crippled him, to think that he would never feel this touch again, to imagine that it had never been wanted (or even granted willingly) in the first place. that is what he's still trying to find his way back from, and it's the labor of a million paces through a parched desert.
luckily, kalim is intimately acquainted with the rain. ]
I can't make you do anything. I never could.
[ a sound reminder, while kalim catches jamil's hand, and then tilts his head to press a soft kiss to his palm. ]
﴾ there's a hint of tension in jamil's fingers, but it is largely imperceptible and very much short-lived. what a scene it would make if kalim were to pick up on the fact that jamil knows, that all of this ache and torment is the only thing he sees anymore when he gazes upon his master. for all that has transpired between them, jamil has no idea what to do with the sickly twist in his gut, the unrest scraping beneath his skin when he is reminded that the one danger he has failed to protect kalim from is himself. it was never supposed to be this way.
but there is no changing the past now, not really. not for very long, at least — a hypnotic word here or there can ease the tension for an hour or two, but like all spellwords, they quickly burn away and leave behind the raw truth. it is a thing that jamil is still learning to deal with when lies were sovereign for as long as he can honestly remember, as awkward as a newborn fawn taking its first steps on uneven soil.
still — very tempting when he meets kalim's eyes, just to speak all his pain away and let them crash together like the tides, natural and imperative. instead, his fingers spread for the soft dusting of kalim's kisses, and close in on the last of them, framing the curve of his cheek in a gesture that would look loving if not for the wall of ice in jamil's gaze. ﴿
How refreshing to hear. I suppose you deserve a reward for your clarity.
﴾ his other hand is busy, burrowing beneath the collar of kalim's soft sweater, drifting over his shoulder to squeeze and stroke. his touch is as capable as the rest of him, divining the tiniest points of tension as easily as if they were calling to him personally. it is almost sweet until his fingers curl, grasping and inextricable as jamil pretends for a moment to deliberate and ultimately decides: ﴿
[ there is no correct path to take here. as with a bulk of kalim's choices lately, it's a no-win scenario. solidly lose-lose. ire in one hand, guilt in the other. and either way, jamil will come out hurt in the end.
the path to his left... it's so tempting to simply heed jamil's order. easy, to fall into something familiar and comforting, into the thing that still (inexplicably) works for them, beyond the veil of that carefulness that kalim's maintained. even if everything else is crumbling behind their eyes, they can still touch one another without fear, and that's a connection worth holding onto. so too would it slip a bit more of that agency back into jamil's capable grasp, hand him a modicum of the control he feels he lacks in every other aspect of their lives (and how untrue -- unfair -- that is, when kalim has only ever been at his mercy). except that now, kalim's absolutely suffering under the gravid doubt of jamil's actual intentions. does he want this? is this obligation? does he touch because it brings him pleasure, or does he touch out of fear?
and to his right... what he should do -- uphill climb of a dune through a sandstorm, but the responsible path -- is dissuade jamil. as if jamil is so easily discouraged. but he could do it if he tried; grasp jamil's wrists and guide his grip away, insist he'll study alone, usher jamil out of his room. lock him out, and then shake apart when he's gone. it won't last long. perhaps only long enough for kalim to temper his storm, before jamil will find some excuse to fit himself back into kalim's presence, sourer for the rebuke. or perhaps he'll appreciate it all the same; take any excuse he's given to not have to touch kalim or to bear his company, even for a short while. and how kalim aches sometimes, wishes jamil would just leave rather than linger in a place he loathes, bound by familiarity and duty alone.
there's no excuse for it, and kalim knows the path he should take. he's two metaphorical steps to the right when his gaze flickers up to meet jamil's, and all he sees is ice and frost.
kalim burns.
face and chest, soul and bone, he burns. he swiftly catches jamil's jaw in both hands, and his touch is like the surface of the sun, as if he could sear the shape of his fingers into jamil's skin if he only lingered long enough. he can melt that ice. he knows he can. he's done it before, and he'll do it again; a thousand times, a million times, as often as it takes for jamil to let him in. to embrace this, embrace him, embrace them. so it's a sharp veer left, and kalim is on his feet, pulling jamil hard and hot into his kiss. ]
﴾ and there he is, the kalim that jamil knows better than anyone else in the whole world, his greedy mouth and grasping hands and the way he fits against jamil like his servant was built to be his own personal harbor. another duty jamil is honored and obliged to fulfill; if kalim is made to fit nowhere else, then there is a power and security in it that is absolutely intoxicating, such a rush that jamil can hardly help burning in kind as his fingers claw impatiently at kalim's shoulder. thrilled as he is, kalim deserves a little attitude for making him wait, for disrupting their well-practiced choreography with what, insecurity? guilt? all useless habits for a wealthy man to develop and jamil must continue to discourage them at all costs.
for this, he's always been pleased to do the opposite. even more so now, not because it feels like a reassurance that kalim will not change his mind, certainly not because the exposed truth has also made it so that kalim has to reconfirm jamil as his choice every time their eager lips meet — but because it is his own meager act of retribution, of course, pressing close and loosening his top and letting it fall down around his shoulders knowing full well that he's captured kalim's eye better than anyone else will ever be able to. ﴿
Kalim—
﴾ it's fine enough if kalim swallows up his protests and steals his breath away; jamil has work to do in the interim, winding against him and out of the silken fall of his clothes, pausing only once in his dutiful ritual to pass a careful touch over the full shape of kalim's cheek. it isn't quite the arid draft wafting in through the window that puts a shiver in his bare shoulders as he forces them apart once more, not turning away, but luring kalim deeper into the only path that makes any sense to him. ﴿
[ kalim's whims are war-torn, frayed right down to the faded fibers. he wants to kiss jamil breathless and senseless, steal the very taste from his tongue and rob him of his scheming mind. he wants to break away and savor every inch of skin jamil is baring, let his gaze chase the fabric as it falls away, and drink in the perfection it's uncovering. he wants to touch, weave himself in -- his ardent adoration, his desperate devotion -- until jamil can feel him viscerally. he wants so much, too much; it's an addiction he can't tear himself from until jamil drifts away of his own accord, and brings kalim to heel with a single word.
there's a spark now, a fervent fire catching behind kalim's eyes and blazing mischief in his grin. somehow -- and it's a deep dig, nigh impossible despite that bottomless well of patience and goodwill -- kalim summons up the fortitude to even the playing field, at least a little. it's hard with so many layers and scarves, but he leaves a trail of shed garments in his wake, a flurried dervish that bares him down to his slacks (and his headwrap went with the hastily-shed shirt, but the rest of the adornments are too troublesome; the jewelry will have to stay, for now, clatter and ring though it may), before he's close enough to catch jamil around his waist and tip them toward the bed. ]
You're coming with me!
[ so stated, while kalim collapses over the bolsters and drags jamil over him. the bare skin is distracting enough, and every point of contact lights up kalim's every nerve, bathes him in pleasured warmth until he's dizzy and gasping from it. maybe it's only imagined, but kalim could swear this feels a hundred-thousand times more intense with the enormity of gratitude behind it. as if he's so thankful to have his hands on jamil that his very nerves are soaking in the sensation. jamil must be able to see it, radiating in kalim's smile while he bites his lip, fingers following every dip and rise over jamil's stomach, his chest, his neck, until they come to rest beneath his jaw and guide their gaze to meet again. ]
Here he is, my beloved. [ timbre so warm, eyes so soft. ] My heart, my soul.
﴾ jamil senses it like a thread of smoke, immediately and sourly. his low scowl, his muffled "no, kalim—" are gone with all the garments left to wrinkle on the ground, swept up in the same gilded maelstrom that spits him out the other side almost — very nearly — shaking with laughter. it's incredibly inconsiderate when jamil is obviously not in the mood for fun or whimsy in any measure, but the trouble is in the action of rebuking kalim for his transgressions when his heart is so full of warmth and delight.
because it does end so perfectly, credit is due for that. their dance is a lifetime in the making and kalim is nothing if not a capable partner, his hands in all the right places, every breath and touch as familiar to him as the home that they share. not that kalim ever misses an opportunity to knock him off his rhythm, revoltingly rude when he's already swept jamil off his feet in the most literal sense, freezing him in his own skin when he is only just beginning to enjoy this moment of shameless indulgence. his fingers still as they skate over kalim's chest and his face runs red with a deep flush.
if only there wasn't so much happening in kalim's eyes, perhaps jamil would have a better response. as it is, his mind blanks instead, and the hand that had been holding on to him moments before flattens against kalim's cheek and turns his face away instead. ﴿
Don't want to hear it.
﴾ if kalim keeps speaking — there's no way for jamil to know what will become of it, but he knows in that dependable, never, ever wrong part of himself that something terrible will happen. world-ending catastrophe levels of terrible. if he has to smother kalim a little as he rises up above him, if he has to pin him to the bed by his jaw and snap his hips cruelly, then kalim should be glad that jamil is doing this for the sake of them both. ﴿
You've such a restless mouth tonight. I wish you'd spend this energy more productively, Kalim.
[ even with his face pressed sideways into the bedcover, kalim laughs. full and sweet and trailing out to a soft hum when their hips crash together. jamil's venom may as well be the sentiment returned. he comes with fangs and knives, and that's the surest sign kalim's stirred something within him. where's the wisdom in tempting a viper's strike? kalim's never been able to put his finger on it, but it's endlessly rewarding.
kalim takes jamil by the hand that's pinning his face, lifts it just enough that he can turn his head and drag his lips along the palm side of jamil's fingers. ]
Restless, or lonely? Empty! How could this happen on your watch?
[ Empty! as if it's jamil's responsibility to keep kalim's mouth occupied. a problem rectified in very short order, when kalim's lips part around jamil's fore and middle fingers, then sink them both deep into his mouth. his teeth trap them behind the second joint, tongue all searing velvet between them, hot as the scarlet eyes that refuse to leave jamil's face. ]
I can be very productive. [ it comes out muffled while he drags his teeth to jamil's fingertips. and then, when they're finally free: ] Do you have any suggestions?
﴾ well who else's responsibility would it be? perish the thought of one of those slimy eel brothers getting into that decadent mouth; jamil would have to scrub it out with bleach for the rest of kalim's life. no, it is his responsibility, and for that, he heaves a great sigh even as his stormy eyes are charting the progress of kalim's wandering lips, his fingers wicking along the shape of them indulgently. ﴿
Must I hold your hand in everything?
﴾ minimal bitching; that is all he has to say about retrieving kalim's other hand, as if one out of the two is not nearly enough to hold him. perhaps not the way jamil is moving, rocking on kalim's lap as he coasts that captured hand down the bare skin of his belly and sways his sagging pants down low. not impatient but imperative, and only because kalim is being such a provocateur. ﴿
I like you here.
﴾ still spoiled as a little sultan, but beneath him, eyes aglow like fire rubies and a trove of pearls in his gleaming smile. slithering up kalim's chest feels like seizing the finest throne in the world, and there's really no helping the way that his fingers smooth over kalim's face and wash over his mouth; jamil isn't the type to dote, but a little coveting in private quarters never hurt anyone. irreparably.
besides, kalim has no reason to go anywhere. jamil feeds him every inch of skin he bares, winding his hips against those luxurious lips as his fingers climb to catch in his hair. ﴿
I suppose— ﴾ a sharp, catching breath swells behind clenched teeth. ﴿ I'll take care of the rest.
[ jamil is truly too kind, guiding kalim down and slithering his way up, mapping all the pathways kalim should follow to please him. kalim would call it entitlement if he had any capacity to argue the notion. and he doesn't. there's nowhere he wants jamil more than right here, against his mouth, and-- ]
I like you here too.
[ too sincere from a tongue that can paint its shameless way down jamil's body like this. too earnest from lips that don't hesitate to pull bruises from jamil's groin. too delicate between teeth that worry jamil's tenderest skin into roseate bloom. kalim gives himself away with soft hums and quiet whimpers, falling hot against every corner of flesh his mouth comes to assail.
if nothing else, this can be kalim's service to jamil. there's power in the hold he has over kalim, and that grip has nothing to do with spellwork or hypnotism. it's a different kind of magic altogether, subtle but unshakeable. the world, the moon, the stars; they could all belong to jamil alone, if only he would ask for them, and kalim's under no illusions regarding the lengths he would go to, to keep jamil right where he is. so until jamil realizes his own power, kalim will serve him just like this; a tireless tool in devotion to his pleasure, bending without question to his undeniable will. ]
Take care--? [ breathy, dazed, while kalim stubbornly pulls at jamil's pants, and works them down around his knees. and before he continues, he has to swallow hard against the way his mouth waters when his tongue finally pulls slow -- hilt to head -- along the underside of jamil's cock. ] Mm. Just stay here.
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no subject
﴾ is the only argument jamil really has, and even then, it's the sole virtue kalim can actually lord above him. only one of them has broken a promise — in such a disastrous display that jamil was almost glad for azul's intervention and the prospect of not having to live with his own ineptitude much longer — and that person is not kalim. he's solid, when it comes to that at least.
in a lot of other ways, too. kalim can always be counted on for a smile, something jamil never even knew to appreciate in him before it went away. it turns out that the absence of all that sunshine is a far greater loss than he'd previously surmised; there's just this hint of sadness in his eyes now, a gloomy cast over that decadently-honeyed face, and oh but jamil can't fucking stand it. his eyes narrow viciously as kalim's touch snares and spreads. ﴿
I know perfectly well what I can and cannot do. I will be going nowhere until your work is complete and you are cleaned and tucked into bed.
﴾ and then he'll wait, as always, in the shadows of kalim's room for the same threat that never comes. it really doesn't matter if it does or does not become a reality; it's happened before, at home, and the only thing that jamil can control is that he will be here, more prepared than all the times before.
to speak of such a thing as if it is even an option cuts so much deeper than kalim will ever know. or maybe he has little hints here and there, in the way jamil's perfectly manicured claws snare him by the collar of his shirt and drag him closer still, maybe even by the proprietorial manner in which jamil dusts kalim's hair away from his face until it's perfectly arranged once more. he is bold enough now to look entirely pleased with himself too, his brow arched smugly as his fingers slither up the back of kalim's neck and seize the finer, shorter hairs at its nape. ﴿
And now you cannot make me, since you value my agency so much.
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[ kalim can't deny it, especially not when his head is falling back to chase jamil's touch. it's something to be savored, and kalim is more intimately aware of that fact than he ever has been before. but he's becoming more familiar with a lot of alien concepts recently. self-doubt is chief among them. he never had any reason to doubt himself before. his confidence was unshakeable. because failure is inevitable, only an opportunity to learn, and his most ardent pillars of support could never flag under a little tremor like defeat.
jamil's pillar was always the thickest, the most central. steadfast, diamond and titanium, invisible but coveted above all things. he played his part so completely, so perfectly, that kalim never even saw the cracks. there was so much taken for granted; that jamil was as happy to be beside him as kalim was to have him, that he was there because he wanted to be, that he resented nothing and helped only because there was love between them. illusions unnumbered, and kalim believed every one. how could he ever think to question it, when it was all he ever knew?
for a single, terrifying moment, kalim was certain that jamil's treasured pillar had never been there at all. that everything he'd known about their lives had been a carefully-constructed and cleverly-maintained lie. that every win jamil ever let him have, that every note left in his satchel, that every touch and every kiss, had been nothing more than obligation. it's a seed of doubt that's blossomed into a choking vine, or into the poisoned pull of a marionette's strings, tugging every notion deep into the shadow of doubt before kalim can even attempt to dismiss it.
it crushed him, crippled him, to think that he would never feel this touch again, to imagine that it had never been wanted (or even granted willingly) in the first place. that is what he's still trying to find his way back from, and it's the labor of a million paces through a parched desert.
luckily, kalim is intimately acquainted with the rain. ]
I can't make you do anything. I never could.
[ a sound reminder, while kalim catches jamil's hand, and then tilts his head to press a soft kiss to his palm. ]
no subject
but there is no changing the past now, not really. not for very long, at least — a hypnotic word here or there can ease the tension for an hour or two, but like all spellwords, they quickly burn away and leave behind the raw truth. it is a thing that jamil is still learning to deal with when lies were sovereign for as long as he can honestly remember, as awkward as a newborn fawn taking its first steps on uneven soil.
still — very tempting when he meets kalim's eyes, just to speak all his pain away and let them crash together like the tides, natural and imperative. instead, his fingers spread for the soft dusting of kalim's kisses, and close in on the last of them, framing the curve of his cheek in a gesture that would look loving if not for the wall of ice in jamil's gaze. ﴿
How refreshing to hear. I suppose you deserve a reward for your clarity.
﴾ his other hand is busy, burrowing beneath the collar of kalim's soft sweater, drifting over his shoulder to squeeze and stroke. his touch is as capable as the rest of him, divining the tiniest points of tension as easily as if they were calling to him personally. it is almost sweet until his fingers curl, grasping and inextricable as jamil pretends for a moment to deliberate and ultimately decides: ﴿
You can stop talking and go to bed. Now, Kalim.
no subject
the path to his left... it's so tempting to simply heed jamil's order. easy, to fall into something familiar and comforting, into the thing that still (inexplicably) works for them, beyond the veil of that carefulness that kalim's maintained. even if everything else is crumbling behind their eyes, they can still touch one another without fear, and that's a connection worth holding onto. so too would it slip a bit more of that agency back into jamil's capable grasp, hand him a modicum of the control he feels he lacks in every other aspect of their lives (and how untrue -- unfair -- that is, when kalim has only ever been at his mercy). except that now, kalim's absolutely suffering under the gravid doubt of jamil's actual intentions. does he want this? is this obligation? does he touch because it brings him pleasure, or does he touch out of fear?
and to his right... what he should do -- uphill climb of a dune through a sandstorm, but the responsible path -- is dissuade jamil. as if jamil is so easily discouraged. but he could do it if he tried; grasp jamil's wrists and guide his grip away, insist he'll study alone, usher jamil out of his room. lock him out, and then shake apart when he's gone. it won't last long. perhaps only long enough for kalim to temper his storm, before jamil will find some excuse to fit himself back into kalim's presence, sourer for the rebuke. or perhaps he'll appreciate it all the same; take any excuse he's given to not have to touch kalim or to bear his company, even for a short while. and how kalim aches sometimes, wishes jamil would just leave rather than linger in a place he loathes, bound by familiarity and duty alone.
there's no excuse for it, and kalim knows the path he should take. he's two metaphorical steps to the right when his gaze flickers up to meet jamil's, and all he sees is ice and frost.
kalim burns.
face and chest, soul and bone, he burns. he swiftly catches jamil's jaw in both hands, and his touch is like the surface of the sun, as if he could sear the shape of his fingers into jamil's skin if he only lingered long enough. he can melt that ice. he knows he can. he's done it before, and he'll do it again; a thousand times, a million times, as often as it takes for jamil to let him in. to embrace this, embrace him, embrace them. so it's a sharp veer left, and kalim is on his feet, pulling jamil hard and hot into his kiss. ]
no subject
for this, he's always been pleased to do the opposite. even more so now, not because it feels like a reassurance that kalim will not change his mind, certainly not because the exposed truth has also made it so that kalim has to reconfirm jamil as his choice every time their eager lips meet — but because it is his own meager act of retribution, of course, pressing close and loosening his top and letting it fall down around his shoulders knowing full well that he's captured kalim's eye better than anyone else will ever be able to. ﴿
Kalim—
﴾ it's fine enough if kalim swallows up his protests and steals his breath away; jamil has work to do in the interim, winding against him and out of the silken fall of his clothes, pausing only once in his dutiful ritual to pass a careful touch over the full shape of kalim's cheek. it isn't quite the arid draft wafting in through the window that puts a shiver in his bare shoulders as he forces them apart once more, not turning away, but luring kalim deeper into the only path that makes any sense to him. ﴿
Bed.
no subject
there's a spark now, a fervent fire catching behind kalim's eyes and blazing mischief in his grin. somehow -- and it's a deep dig, nigh impossible despite that bottomless well of patience and goodwill -- kalim summons up the fortitude to even the playing field, at least a little. it's hard with so many layers and scarves, but he leaves a trail of shed garments in his wake, a flurried dervish that bares him down to his slacks (and his headwrap went with the hastily-shed shirt, but the rest of the adornments are too troublesome; the jewelry will have to stay, for now, clatter and ring though it may), before he's close enough to catch jamil around his waist and tip them toward the bed. ]
You're coming with me!
[ so stated, while kalim collapses over the bolsters and drags jamil over him. the bare skin is distracting enough, and every point of contact lights up kalim's every nerve, bathes him in pleasured warmth until he's dizzy and gasping from it. maybe it's only imagined, but kalim could swear this feels a hundred-thousand times more intense with the enormity of gratitude behind it. as if he's so thankful to have his hands on jamil that his very nerves are soaking in the sensation. jamil must be able to see it, radiating in kalim's smile while he bites his lip, fingers following every dip and rise over jamil's stomach, his chest, his neck, until they come to rest beneath his jaw and guide their gaze to meet again. ]
Here he is, my beloved. [ timbre so warm, eyes so soft. ] My heart, my soul.
no subject
because it does end so perfectly, credit is due for that. their dance is a lifetime in the making and kalim is nothing if not a capable partner, his hands in all the right places, every breath and touch as familiar to him as the home that they share. not that kalim ever misses an opportunity to knock him off his rhythm, revoltingly rude when he's already swept jamil off his feet in the most literal sense, freezing him in his own skin when he is only just beginning to enjoy this moment of shameless indulgence. his fingers still as they skate over kalim's chest and his face runs red with a deep flush.
if only there wasn't so much happening in kalim's eyes, perhaps jamil would have a better response. as it is, his mind blanks instead, and the hand that had been holding on to him moments before flattens against kalim's cheek and turns his face away instead. ﴿
Don't want to hear it.
﴾ if kalim keeps speaking — there's no way for jamil to know what will become of it, but he knows in that dependable, never, ever wrong part of himself that something terrible will happen. world-ending catastrophe levels of terrible. if he has to smother kalim a little as he rises up above him, if he has to pin him to the bed by his jaw and snap his hips cruelly, then kalim should be glad that jamil is doing this for the sake of them both. ﴿
You've such a restless mouth tonight. I wish you'd spend this energy more productively, Kalim.
no subject
kalim takes jamil by the hand that's pinning his face, lifts it just enough that he can turn his head and drag his lips along the palm side of jamil's fingers. ]
Restless, or lonely? Empty! How could this happen on your watch?
[ Empty! as if it's jamil's responsibility to keep kalim's mouth occupied. a problem rectified in very short order, when kalim's lips part around jamil's fore and middle fingers, then sink them both deep into his mouth. his teeth trap them behind the second joint, tongue all searing velvet between them, hot as the scarlet eyes that refuse to leave jamil's face. ]
I can be very productive. [ it comes out muffled while he drags his teeth to jamil's fingertips. and then, when they're finally free: ] Do you have any suggestions?
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Must I hold your hand in everything?
﴾ minimal bitching; that is all he has to say about retrieving kalim's other hand, as if one out of the two is not nearly enough to hold him. perhaps not the way jamil is moving, rocking on kalim's lap as he coasts that captured hand down the bare skin of his belly and sways his sagging pants down low. not impatient but imperative, and only because kalim is being such a provocateur. ﴿
I like you here.
﴾ still spoiled as a little sultan, but beneath him, eyes aglow like fire rubies and a trove of pearls in his gleaming smile. slithering up kalim's chest feels like seizing the finest throne in the world, and there's really no helping the way that his fingers smooth over kalim's face and wash over his mouth; jamil isn't the type to dote, but a little coveting in private quarters never hurt anyone. irreparably.
besides, kalim has no reason to go anywhere. jamil feeds him every inch of skin he bares, winding his hips against those luxurious lips as his fingers climb to catch in his hair. ﴿
I suppose— ﴾ a sharp, catching breath swells behind clenched teeth. ﴿ I'll take care of the rest.
no subject
I like you here too.
[ too sincere from a tongue that can paint its shameless way down jamil's body like this. too earnest from lips that don't hesitate to pull bruises from jamil's groin. too delicate between teeth that worry jamil's tenderest skin into roseate bloom. kalim gives himself away with soft hums and quiet whimpers, falling hot against every corner of flesh his mouth comes to assail.
if nothing else, this can be kalim's service to jamil. there's power in the hold he has over kalim, and that grip has nothing to do with spellwork or hypnotism. it's a different kind of magic altogether, subtle but unshakeable. the world, the moon, the stars; they could all belong to jamil alone, if only he would ask for them, and kalim's under no illusions regarding the lengths he would go to, to keep jamil right where he is. so until jamil realizes his own power, kalim will serve him just like this; a tireless tool in devotion to his pleasure, bending without question to his undeniable will. ]
Take care--? [ breathy, dazed, while kalim stubbornly pulls at jamil's pants, and works them down around his knees. and before he continues, he has to swallow hard against the way his mouth waters when his tongue finally pulls slow -- hilt to head -- along the underside of jamil's cock. ] Mm. Just stay here.