Absolutely not. [And that should be that, but...what if Kalim misjudged things, what if he did slip, what if things went badly, what if Carpet couldn't catch Kalim in time, what if his magic wasn't good enough, what if what if what if. And so on. Feelings are complicated. Wanting to hold a boy close and keep him from the world, have him as the one thing just for him, only for him...versus wanting to take that same boy and throw him into the nearest oasis repeatedly.
Feelings are complicated!]
Sometimes I feel like I spoil you too much. [Sigh. But, not quite looking at Kalim, Jamil offers him a hand, saying without saying for Kalim to rearrange himself so he can get back to holding him as he's not going to pick him up while Carpet's flying.]
[ Which is to say, yes. As with many people in Kalim's life, Jamil is guilty of spoiling him far too much. Kalim has wanted for nothing in his life, yet somehow he still knows how to get exactly what he's angling for. Case in point? Now he has Jamil's hand and silent beckon, and continuing to be held was the only thing Kalim wanted from the start of this entire endeavor. Game, set, match, or something. All according to plan.
Kalim isn't a subtle sort of schemer, but let it never be said he's ineffective. It's the difference between a cobra in the high grass and an explosion in the dunes. Either way, the target's eliminated.
What target? Who knows. Kalim hauls himself up again easily enough, and situates himself a little more comfortably than he'd been before. His lower back rests over Jamil's crossed legs, shoulders to his chest, and head pillowed just above his clavicle. Cozy, if Kalim had to put a word to it. (He rarely does, purely out of necessity. If he starts talking too much about it, it's impossible to predict what Jamil would do. They can't even talk about menagerie discussions normally.) ]
[It's difficult dealing with Kalim, sometimes, because he's so...unsubtle. If he said something like, "Do you want to be held by me this badly?" Kalim might just point blank say yes, yes he did. What was he supposed to do with that? He didn't know what to do with that. That isn't how people were supposed to respond to him.
But, it's fine. Kalim's leaning on him again, and it's...cozy, even though he'd never admit that to Kalim, if he admitted he found it cozy who knew what Kalim would do. (It would be cozier if you laid down whispered a small, traitorous part of him that Jamil promptly ignored.)]
If you get too comfortable you won't want to get off when we arrive.
[Even so, there he is, his hand idly making its way into Kalim's hair, rubbing patterns in his scalp.] The point of all of this is still for me to drown you eventually.
[ It is so utterly, depressingly difficult to care about the oasis, or the sun, or leaving carpet, or drowning to death, while Jamil's fingers are in his hair. It should be alarming. Jamil really could lead him into any manner of gruesome end, and Jamil would go willingly. Happily. So long as Jamil rubs his head on the way there.
Jamil's rarely seen him this content, and that's a feat in and of itself. Kalim is remarkably unfettered, but he's rarely relaxed. Yet here he is, eyes drifting shut through a sweet smile and a soft sigh. Maybe this was the trick all along; Kalim's OFF switch. No thoughts, just vibes. ]
[...what is he supposed to do with this, what is he supposed to do with a very relaxed Kalim in his arms, how is he supposed to deal with a Kalim in his arms, Jamil doesn't know how to deal with Kalim in his arms.]
Eventually.
[Feels like he's going to need to use the towels to mop up Kalim at the rate he's relaxing, becoming boneless, melting in his arms.
And so.
Even though this was a bad idea.
Despite the fact his every instinct was yelling at him to not do this.
Despite all of the very good reasons to remain sitting, Jamil very carefully, very slowly, very reluctantly, laid down, rubbing Kalim's scalp the entire time as he did so, and if, perhaps, Kalim was so inclined he could lie down on top of him. Maybe.]
[ Eventually. Agreement. And then Jamil is ever-so-carefully adjusting himself to lie down on carpet. Kalim, boneless pile of relaxed mush that he is right now, can't be expected to do anything but lay over Jamil when he settles. It's nothing lascivious, nothing presumptive. He doesn't leap at it, but he doesn't shy away either. He simply shifts when Jamil slips down beneath him, and cozies himself more comfortably over Jamil's side.
Something about this feels so right. Better than it has any right to feel. Kalim's head has nestled itself comfortably on Jamil's shoulder, arm draped over his stomach, hand resting on his chest, one leg tangled over and beneath one of Jamil's. He could fall asleep like this. And wouldn't that make it easier for Jamil to drown him in the oasis? ]
[There's something to be said about how naturally Kalim settles down atop him...but Jamil's not going to be the one to say something about it. It's not eager. Kalim isn't eager, though he isn't reluctant, either. He has the unhurried pace of someone settling in somewhere he's always belonged at.
One arm slips about and holds Kalim: snug, but not too snug.]
You don't have to worry about that. Carpet would catch us.
[ Of that, Kalim is absolutely certain. Carpet likes them. Why would it let its friends plummet to their death?
It's hard not to notice how nice Jamil smells when they're curled this close to one another, harder still to escape the notice that his hair looks immaculately soft. Kalim's fingertips itch to touch, but his hand is slow to shift, creeping up Jamil's chest until he can curl his fore and middle fingers around a wayward bit of that silky hair. It is soft. And now he'll never want to stop touching it. ]
Is this okay?
[ Toying with Jamil's hair, he means. But if Jamil were to interpret it differently, no one would blame him. ]
[Hair, curling up like he's a cat, the fact that they're on carpet and Jamil's got the sinking suspicion that he's neither going to get around to drowning Kalim nor that they'll get around to studying...really? He's not sure what, specifically, Kalim is talking about, but...whatever Kalim's talking about is fine. For once.]
Unless Ace flies by on a broom solely to point and laugh, or something along those lines happens, I'm fine.
[ Which is strange in and of itself, now that Kalim stops to consider it. They know everything about each other, don't they? They've been together for so long, one would think it would've come up before now. But here's something new. Here, on the other side of complete chaos and a redefinition of everything they've ever meant to one another, suddenly there are new things to learn.
And Jamil only becomes more incredible with each new thing Kalim learns about him.
So, even though I'm fine is sometimes a double-edged sword, Kalim takes his chances. His fingers wind slowly up this little skein of Jamil's hair, until they're far enough over to comb through and bring more over his shoulder. An ample amount to delicately thread his fingers through, root to tip, like Kalim were petting a particularly ornery cat instead of his best friend's hair. ]
Does Najma ever play with your hair when you're home? I don't even have that much, and the little ones still like to stick bows in it.
[Usually being the important word there, usually being the word doing a bunch of heavy lifting in this sentence. Usually implying all sorts of things, most of which Jamil isn't going to talk about unless he's absolutely forced to, and not for the first time is he glad that Kalim doesn't have some kind of truth-compelling spell. Water magic doesn't demand honesty.]
And I try not to let Najma near my hair. When we were younger it was a different story. She liked to play with my hair, and I usually did her hair for her. But now...
[Now she's got the power to do his hair in a silly way, take pictures, and send it to Kalim, absolutely not.]
Well, just let me know if you want me to stop. I promise I'll be gentle!
[ To that end, he's only been gentle. Careful, in a way Kalim never used to be. Idly stroking Jamil's hair, drifting higher and higher, until Kalim's fingertips can sink themselves into slow circles over his scalp instead. ]
It always feels nice when you do this for me. It's only fair to return the favor, right?
[Jamil says, shifting his grip around Kalim to pull him in a little bit tighter, his eyes fluttering shut, a certain tension melting from his shoulders the more Kalim rubs, his head even leaning slightly into Kalim's touch. He supposes it might be just a little bit nice. Just a bit.]
But you don't need to return the favor, you know.
[Even if all signs point to Kalim having a tough time if he tries to wiggle loose.]
[ Kalim chirps this answer, as if that's not the casual admission that he just wants to touch Jamil. Just because. Not because he's obligated to, but because Jamil's hair is soft, and he deserves to feel good. That's all the reason he needs.
Never mind that it seems to have the incidental effect of Jamil holding him more tightly still. That's just an added bonus. ]
Just let me pet your hair before you drown me, okay?
[And just like that, the spell is...kind of...broken. His eyes open again. He stares at Kalim. He absolutely does nothing to stop Kalim from playing with his hair. There's no movement to keep him from playing with his hair. In the event Kalim moves his hand away, Jamil would even make a slightly offended noise. Not deliberately, but it would seep out before he can stop it.
But his eyes are open again.]
I was starting to think that you forgot about me drowning you.
[ They're-- Are they cuddling? The realization dawns on Kalim like a freight train collision, and his fingers tremble -- still, for a fraction of a second -- while his face flushes deep and hot. They're cuddling. On Carpet. Jamil is holding him, Kalim is laying on him, playing with his hair. This seems so... normal. Especially for them. After all the turmoil, here they are. ]
Thank you. This is really nice.
[ It comes out before Kalim can stop it. So as long as he's leaning into brutal honesty...
[Having been very comfortably not thinking too much about it, content to enjoy the wind and the air and the warmth of Kalim without thinking too much about what he was doing to have the warmth of Kalim so close, Jamil had been comfortable.
Had.
Past tense for a reason.
Because Kalim had to go and say that and his fingers tremble for a moment and Jamil can feel his face getting a bit hot and he has to take a moment and just focus on the air instead of Kalim, or Carpet instead of Kalim, or think about his history of magic paper that he still has to do.]
Of course.
[Please interpret that as 'of course it would feel nice, I am good at hugs as I excel in all things' instead of 'of course it's nice, I'm enjoying this too' as the former is less mortifying than the latter, even if...the latter is what's meant.]
[ Of course. That can mean so many things, but Kalim's interpretation, as it turns out, is that it's really more of a You're welcome. And oh, if that doesn't make him feel warm all over again.
Kalim could say a great many things right now. He could extoll Jamil's virtues in a bulletpoint format. He could fill this silence between them with words or with song. But sometimes, the quiet can speak volumes louder than his mouth ever could, and he's not about to ruin a perfect moment by talking too much.
No, why would he do that, when he can ruin the moment with one well-placed question? ]
Jamil. [ Kalim's fingers are wandering, trailing away from his hair and down his chest instead. ] Where else can I touch you?
it's sad because all of my inboxes have a last tagged date that's around the same time
[And it is at this point that Jamil doesn't...quite...sit up, but Kalim could feel him jerk. His attention is very firmly fixed on Kalim now, and he can't even pretend like he doesn't notice.
Jamil's mouth opens. It shuts again. It's even more firmly shut, more decisively shut, for a moment as he stares at Kalim like Kalim had just grown three heads and revealed he's Malleus' long lost second cousin. He opens it again.]
Where...?
[This is asked in a slightly hoarse voice, a quieter voice, before his mouth shuts again, and then remains decisively shut, as he bites his lip and-
And the sensible part of Jamil knows that he should keep his damn mouth shut.
He is not going to be sensible. He is going to ask the stupid question, knowing full well that it's a stupid question.]
Where do you want to...? [He can't say 'touch me' don't make him say 'touch me' there's places he's not prepared to go yet.]
[ There's so much left to interpretation with a statement like that. So much that it implies. But it's not a careless statement either. Kalim is too honest; he's never uttered a single word that wasn't firmly supported by his entire heart. So anywhere covers an awful lot of ground. All the ground, really. Every single step that still stretches out between them.
But the other part of that statement is just as important. Anywhere you'd let me. Kalim can make his own willingness known, but he'll never venture beyond the boundaries that Jamil sets for him. So his fingertips stall at Jamil's chest, weave circular patterns over the front of his tunic and catch occasionally on the hems. Waiting, to either be given leave to stray farther, or to return to their place in Jamil's hair. ]
Anywhere you want me to.
i picked that version for a reason, minor key adds tragedy and mystery to it
[Jamil Viper knew that he was (supposedly) clever, but at times like this he felt like an absolute fucking idiot. He stares at Kalim, his mind strangely blank as he processes what it is that Kalim had said, and also all the ways he likely misinterpreted what it was that Kalim said.
But, ah, there was the problem with such simplicity: too few words, too few places to take it. It was just two sentences, eight words. (Nine if he counted the compound word. Jamil didn't.) Simple and short.
He froze like a deer in headlights, or maybe like a performer poised to bow before the audience and simply waiting for the curtain call. His instincts told him: he should do as Kalim asked, he shouldn't do as Kalim asked. He should give him everything and he should give him nothing. He bites his lip for a moment, flight and fight, hesitating...
...and feeling disgusted with himself for that hesitation.
Then, after a moment, Jamil takes Kalim's hand in his own and...nearly plops it on his face, much to his surprise, he didn't think he'd want that but his mind said put Kalim's hand on your cheek and he went oh. Huh. (And makes a slightly thoughtful noise at the realization, one Kalim can hear, a soft hum.)
He doesn't. Jamil just stubbornly does what he intended in the first place, which is to take Kalim's hand and slide it under his shirt...just a little. Just a tiny little bit, his dark eyes watchful, seeing Kalim's reaction.]
[ Touching Jamil has never been a big deal. They've touched each other since they were small. These are simply the casual everyday things that happen between them. The million-and-one little things that had to happen -- for better or for worse -- simply to maintain their positions. They touch. Naturally. And neither of them has ever been starved for it.
But Jamil takes Kalim's hand, slips it beneath his own shirt, and it hits Kalim with all the force of a raging river ready to pull him under. Jarring, if he had to put a word to it. Easy pleasure in the the face of overwhelming terror. Kalim nearly snatches his hand back, certain -- for a fraction of a second -- that he can hear the familiar whispers of hypnotic hissing, slithering unnoticed through the back of his mind.
No. That's not going to happen again. It's frustrating that Kalim has to keep reminding himself of that when of should be water under the bridge, and never mind that Jamil probably catches every nuance of the panic behind Kalim's eyes. No. This is what he wants. It's apparently what they both want. Jamil's skin is soft, smooth, warm beneath Kalim's hand. And as if of its own volition, that touch presses farther afield.
How is Kalim meant to not take a mile, when this is the glorious inch he's already been given?
Kalim's hand is warm, soft, plying. His fingers ride easy over every curve while they climb Jamil's waist, ghost over his collar bone, growing surer and firmer with each inch they explore. And softly, carefully, Kalim noses gently along Jamil's jaw, coaxing him to tip his head to the side and bear his neck for the press of Kalim's lips. ]
[Kalim hesitates. Only for a moment, Kalim hesitates; Jamil can see why. It's across his face. It's as if it was written in blood. He can see panic, he can see fear. He doesn't want to, but he sees it, and Jamil's not sure what he hates more: the fact that Kalim is afraid of him, or the fact that he can see it, taste it, touch it. It's only for a moment, but his hand almost, almost moves Kalim's hand away. He has some indifferent line on his lips, some deflection, a reminder about studying, maybe? Some excuse to make it easier-
That is when Kalim's hand moves.
Jamil's eyes widen. His gaze is fixed on Kalim, he inhales sharp, once, as he feels Kalim's fingers trace his skin. He trembles as Kalim's fingers trace something-or-another, his hands clenching something-or-another of Kalim - Kalim's arm, his body, his hip, whatever it is - just in case Kalim got the wrong idea from that trembling.
By the time Kalim kisses his neck, Jamil sighs.]
Kalim...
[A quiet gasp, a little pleading...but only a little, as pleading had never gotten him anywhere in the past, so why start now?]
We touch each other all the time. [This is his attempt to keep himself from unspooling, unraveling. To keep what he can of his composure, as Kalim is, as always, tempting in all things.]
[ That's a reasonable read of the situation, and Kalim can only agree. They do touch all the time. Jamil is as dependably on-the-nose as ever. But-- ]
But not like this.
[ This is different, and they both know it. There's no way Jamil equates this to all the ways they've touched in the past. Not when he's gasping, not when his voice has taken on that plaintive edge. This couldn't be more different.
And Kalim has certainly never touched Jamil here, in this place. Careful fingertips spider along and wander down his sternum, blunt nails gently dragging over his stomach and hip. They almost push beneath the waistline of his pants, nearly dip down to touch him far more intimately, but that's another boundary Jamil's leave is needed to cross. So Kalim's hand slips away, and starts the cycle anew at Jamil's waist to trail upwards again. ]
Like this-- You sound nice like this. I never thought you could say my name like that.
[ Like that. It's got his stomach erupting in butterflies, and his heart in his throat. Along with... other things. New things that he doesn't entirely understand yet. But if he keeps focusing on Jamil's skin under his hand, he doesn't have to think about it. ]
[This is different, and he's not so in denial that he can pretend otherwise. There's no way for him to pretend like this isn't different. Kalim never touched him like he was...he was...
He wasn't going to think about it. Jamil wasn't going to think about where Kalim was touching him, how Kalim was touching him, or why Kalim might want to touch him. He wasn't going to think about how Kalim thought he had sounded nice, and, worse, said just as much. He wasn't going to think about if he was going to make more noises like that, or when, or how Kalim might force them out of it, or if he wanted to say Kalim's name again, or say it again just like that.
Jamil wasn't going to think about what noises he could make Kalim make in return, the sorts of sounds he might conjure from his...whatever Kalim was to him. He wasn't going to think about any of that. He wasn't. He absolutely was not.
Instead of thinking about any of that, and he's not going to think, he's not going to think about what it might mean and what he wants, Jamil isn't going to think about it- instead. Instead, he half turns towards Kalim.]
Kalim.
[A bit firmer. Less plaintive. More decisive. (Not much, but more. Less tenuous.) He inhales, like he's about to do something drastic, and then- dark eyes watchful. Very watchful. Calm. (Not really; it's the same stillness of the ocean, with currents raging below.) And then-
Very slowly.
Jamil takes his hand and slides it under Kalim's shirt, and Kalim might notice the point in which Jamil's dark, calm eyes seem to light up and he inhales, as he realizes something, and it is this: Jamil actually finds that he...
...really...
...likes touching Kalim Al-Asim, and not just out of duty, this is nowhere near duty.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Feelings are complicated!]
Sometimes I feel like I spoil you too much. [Sigh. But, not quite looking at Kalim, Jamil offers him a hand, saying without saying for Kalim to rearrange himself so he can get back to holding him as he's not going to pick him up while Carpet's flying.]
no subject
[ Which is to say, yes. As with many people in Kalim's life, Jamil is guilty of spoiling him far too much. Kalim has wanted for nothing in his life, yet somehow he still knows how to get exactly what he's angling for. Case in point? Now he has Jamil's hand and silent beckon, and continuing to be held was the only thing Kalim wanted from the start of this entire endeavor. Game, set, match, or something. All according to plan.
Kalim isn't a subtle sort of schemer, but let it never be said he's ineffective. It's the difference between a cobra in the high grass and an explosion in the dunes. Either way, the target's eliminated.
What target? Who knows. Kalim hauls himself up again easily enough, and situates himself a little more comfortably than he'd been before. His lower back rests over Jamil's crossed legs, shoulders to his chest, and head pillowed just above his clavicle. Cozy, if Kalim had to put a word to it. (He rarely does, purely out of necessity. If he starts talking too much about it, it's impossible to predict what Jamil would do. They can't even talk about menagerie discussions normally.) ]
no subject
But, it's fine. Kalim's leaning on him again, and it's...cozy, even though he'd never admit that to Kalim, if he admitted he found it cozy who knew what Kalim would do. (It would be cozier if you laid down whispered a small, traitorous part of him that Jamil promptly ignored.)]
If you get too comfortable you won't want to get off when we arrive.
[Even so, there he is, his hand idly making its way into Kalim's hair, rubbing patterns in his scalp.] The point of all of this is still for me to drown you eventually.
no subject
Jamil's rarely seen him this content, and that's a feat in and of itself. Kalim is remarkably unfettered, but he's rarely relaxed. Yet here he is, eyes drifting shut through a sweet smile and a soft sigh. Maybe this was the trick all along; Kalim's OFF switch. No thoughts, just vibes. ]
Mmhmm!
[ Kalim is melting. ]
Eventually.
no subject
Eventually.
[Feels like he's going to need to use the towels to mop up Kalim at the rate he's relaxing, becoming boneless, melting in his arms.
And so.
Even though this was a bad idea.
Despite the fact his every instinct was yelling at him to not do this.
Despite all of the very good reasons to remain sitting, Jamil very carefully, very slowly, very reluctantly, laid down, rubbing Kalim's scalp the entire time as he did so, and if, perhaps, Kalim was so inclined he could lie down on top of him. Maybe.]
no subject
Something about this feels so right. Better than it has any right to feel. Kalim's head has nestled itself comfortably on Jamil's shoulder, arm draped over his stomach, hand resting on his chest, one leg tangled over and beneath one of Jamil's. He could fall asleep like this. And wouldn't that make it easier for Jamil to drown him in the oasis? ]
Could just stay like this. Comfy~...
no subject
One arm slips about and holds Kalim: snug, but not too snug.]
What will you do if one of us falls off?
no subject
[ Of that, Kalim is absolutely certain. Carpet likes them. Why would it let its friends plummet to their death?
It's hard not to notice how nice Jamil smells when they're curled this close to one another, harder still to escape the notice that his hair looks immaculately soft. Kalim's fingertips itch to touch, but his hand is slow to shift, creeping up Jamil's chest until he can curl his fore and middle fingers around a wayward bit of that silky hair. It is soft. And now he'll never want to stop touching it. ]
Is this okay?
[ Toying with Jamil's hair, he means. But if Jamil were to interpret it differently, no one would blame him. ]
no subject
[Hair, curling up like he's a cat, the fact that they're on carpet and Jamil's got the sinking suspicion that he's neither going to get around to drowning Kalim nor that they'll get around to studying...really? He's not sure what, specifically, Kalim is talking about, but...whatever Kalim's talking about is fine. For once.]
Unless Ace flies by on a broom solely to point and laugh, or something along those lines happens, I'm fine.
[Whatever...it is, but still.]
no subject
[ Which is strange in and of itself, now that Kalim stops to consider it. They know everything about each other, don't they? They've been together for so long, one would think it would've come up before now. But here's something new. Here, on the other side of complete chaos and a redefinition of everything they've ever meant to one another, suddenly there are new things to learn.
And Jamil only becomes more incredible with each new thing Kalim learns about him.
So, even though I'm fine is sometimes a double-edged sword, Kalim takes his chances. His fingers wind slowly up this little skein of Jamil's hair, until they're far enough over to comb through and bring more over his shoulder. An ample amount to delicately thread his fingers through, root to tip, like Kalim were petting a particularly ornery cat instead of his best friend's hair. ]
Does Najma ever play with your hair when you're home? I don't even have that much, and the little ones still like to stick bows in it.
no subject
[Usually being the important word there, usually being the word doing a bunch of heavy lifting in this sentence. Usually implying all sorts of things, most of which Jamil isn't going to talk about unless he's absolutely forced to, and not for the first time is he glad that Kalim doesn't have some kind of truth-compelling spell. Water magic doesn't demand honesty.]
And I try not to let Najma near my hair. When we were younger it was a different story. She liked to play with my hair, and I usually did her hair for her. But now...
[Now she's got the power to do his hair in a silly way, take pictures, and send it to Kalim, absolutely not.]
no subject
[ To that end, he's only been gentle. Careful, in a way Kalim never used to be. Idly stroking Jamil's hair, drifting higher and higher, until Kalim's fingertips can sink themselves into slow circles over his scalp instead. ]
It always feels nice when you do this for me. It's only fair to return the favor, right?
no subject
[Jamil says, shifting his grip around Kalim to pull him in a little bit tighter, his eyes fluttering shut, a certain tension melting from his shoulders the more Kalim rubs, his head even leaning slightly into Kalim's touch. He supposes it might be just a little bit nice. Just a bit.]
But you don't need to return the favor, you know.
[Even if all signs point to Kalim having a tough time if he tries to wiggle loose.]
no subject
[ Kalim chirps this answer, as if that's not the casual admission that he just wants to touch Jamil. Just because. Not because he's obligated to, but because Jamil's hair is soft, and he deserves to feel good. That's all the reason he needs.
Never mind that it seems to have the incidental effect of Jamil holding him more tightly still. That's just an added bonus. ]
Just let me pet your hair before you drown me, okay?
no subject
[And just like that, the spell is...kind of...broken. His eyes open again. He stares at Kalim. He absolutely does nothing to stop Kalim from playing with his hair. There's no movement to keep him from playing with his hair. In the event Kalim moves his hand away, Jamil would even make a slightly offended noise. Not deliberately, but it would seep out before he can stop it.
But his eyes are open again.]
I was starting to think that you forgot about me drowning you.
no subject
[ They're-- Are they cuddling? The realization dawns on Kalim like a freight train collision, and his fingers tremble -- still, for a fraction of a second -- while his face flushes deep and hot. They're cuddling. On Carpet. Jamil is holding him, Kalim is laying on him, playing with his hair. This seems so... normal. Especially for them. After all the turmoil, here they are. ]
Thank you. This is really nice.
[ It comes out before Kalim can stop it. So as long as he's leaning into brutal honesty...
It feels good, just to have you hold me.
no subject
Had.
Past tense for a reason.
Because Kalim had to go and say that and his fingers tremble for a moment and Jamil can feel his face getting a bit hot and he has to take a moment and just focus on the air instead of Kalim, or Carpet instead of Kalim, or think about his history of magic paper that he still has to do.]
Of course.
[Please interpret that as 'of course it would feel nice, I am good at hugs as I excel in all things' instead of 'of course it's nice, I'm enjoying this too' as the former is less mortifying than the latter, even if...the latter is what's meant.]
no subject
Kalim could say a great many things right now. He could extoll Jamil's virtues in a bulletpoint format. He could fill this silence between them with words or with song. But sometimes, the quiet can speak volumes louder than his mouth ever could, and he's not about to ruin a perfect moment by talking too much.
No, why would he do that, when he can ruin the moment with one well-placed question? ]
Jamil. [ Kalim's fingers are wandering, trailing away from his hair and down his chest instead. ] Where else can I touch you?
it's sad because all of my inboxes have a last tagged date that's around the same time
Jamil's mouth opens. It shuts again. It's even more firmly shut, more decisively shut, for a moment as he stares at Kalim like Kalim had just grown three heads and revealed he's Malleus' long lost second cousin. He opens it again.]
Where...?
[This is asked in a slightly hoarse voice, a quieter voice, before his mouth shuts again, and then remains decisively shut, as he bites his lip and-
And the sensible part of Jamil knows that he should keep his damn mouth shut.
He is not going to be sensible. He is going to ask the stupid question, knowing full well that it's a stupid question.]
Where do you want to...? [He can't say 'touch me' don't make him say 'touch me' there's places he's not prepared to go yet.]
ALAS
[ There's so much left to interpretation with a statement like that. So much that it implies. But it's not a careless statement either. Kalim is too honest; he's never uttered a single word that wasn't firmly supported by his entire heart. So anywhere covers an awful lot of ground. All the ground, really. Every single step that still stretches out between them.
But the other part of that statement is just as important. Anywhere you'd let me. Kalim can make his own willingness known, but he'll never venture beyond the boundaries that Jamil sets for him. So his fingertips stall at Jamil's chest, weave circular patterns over the front of his tunic and catch occasionally on the hems. Waiting, to either be given leave to stray farther, or to return to their place in Jamil's hair. ]
Anywhere you want me to.
i picked that version for a reason, minor key adds tragedy and mystery to it
But, ah, there was the problem with such simplicity: too few words, too few places to take it. It was just two sentences, eight words. (Nine if he counted the compound word. Jamil didn't.) Simple and short.
He froze like a deer in headlights, or maybe like a performer poised to bow before the audience and simply waiting for the curtain call. His instincts told him: he should do as Kalim asked, he shouldn't do as Kalim asked. He should give him everything and he should give him nothing. He bites his lip for a moment, flight and fight, hesitating...
...and feeling disgusted with himself for that hesitation.
Then, after a moment, Jamil takes Kalim's hand in his own and...nearly plops it on his face, much to his surprise, he didn't think he'd want that but his mind said put Kalim's hand on your cheek and he went oh. Huh. (And makes a slightly thoughtful noise at the realization, one Kalim can hear, a soft hum.)
He doesn't. Jamil just stubbornly does what he intended in the first place, which is to take Kalim's hand and slide it under his shirt...just a little. Just a tiny little bit, his dark eyes watchful, seeing Kalim's reaction.]
drama! suspense!
But Jamil takes Kalim's hand, slips it beneath his own shirt, and it hits Kalim with all the force of a raging river ready to pull him under. Jarring, if he had to put a word to it. Easy pleasure in the the face of overwhelming terror. Kalim nearly snatches his hand back, certain -- for a fraction of a second -- that he can hear the familiar whispers of hypnotic hissing, slithering unnoticed through the back of his mind.
No. That's not going to happen again. It's frustrating that Kalim has to keep reminding himself of that when of should be water under the bridge, and never mind that Jamil probably catches every nuance of the panic behind Kalim's eyes. No. This is what he wants. It's apparently what they both want. Jamil's skin is soft, smooth, warm beneath Kalim's hand. And as if of its own volition, that touch presses farther afield.
How is Kalim meant to not take a mile, when this is the glorious inch he's already been given?
Kalim's hand is warm, soft, plying. His fingers ride easy over every curve while they climb Jamil's waist, ghost over his collar bone, growing surer and firmer with each inch they explore. And softly, carefully, Kalim noses gently along Jamil's jaw, coaxing him to tip his head to the side and bear his neck for the press of Kalim's lips. ]
Hmm... It feels good, to touch you like this.
i am v. dramatic and v. suspenseful
That is when Kalim's hand moves.
Jamil's eyes widen. His gaze is fixed on Kalim, he inhales sharp, once, as he feels Kalim's fingers trace his skin. He trembles as Kalim's fingers trace something-or-another, his hands clenching something-or-another of Kalim - Kalim's arm, his body, his hip, whatever it is - just in case Kalim got the wrong idea from that trembling.
By the time Kalim kisses his neck, Jamil sighs.]
Kalim...
[A quiet gasp, a little pleading...but only a little, as pleading had never gotten him anywhere in the past, so why start now?]
We touch each other all the time. [This is his attempt to keep himself from unspooling, unraveling. To keep what he can of his composure, as Kalim is, as always, tempting in all things.]
no subject
[ That's a reasonable read of the situation, and Kalim can only agree. They do touch all the time. Jamil is as dependably on-the-nose as ever. But-- ]
But not like this.
[ This is different, and they both know it. There's no way Jamil equates this to all the ways they've touched in the past. Not when he's gasping, not when his voice has taken on that plaintive edge. This couldn't be more different.
And Kalim has certainly never touched Jamil here, in this place. Careful fingertips spider along and wander down his sternum, blunt nails gently dragging over his stomach and hip. They almost push beneath the waistline of his pants, nearly dip down to touch him far more intimately, but that's another boundary Jamil's leave is needed to cross. So Kalim's hand slips away, and starts the cycle anew at Jamil's waist to trail upwards again. ]
Like this-- You sound nice like this. I never thought you could say my name like that.
[ Like that. It's got his stomach erupting in butterflies, and his heart in his throat. Along with... other things. New things that he doesn't entirely understand yet. But if he keeps focusing on Jamil's skin under his hand, he doesn't have to think about it. ]
no subject
He wasn't going to think about it. Jamil wasn't going to think about where Kalim was touching him, how Kalim was touching him, or why Kalim might want to touch him. He wasn't going to think about how Kalim thought he had sounded nice, and, worse, said just as much. He wasn't going to think about if he was going to make more noises like that, or when, or how Kalim might force them out of it, or if he wanted to say Kalim's name again, or say it again just like that.
Jamil wasn't going to think about what noises he could make Kalim make in return, the sorts of sounds he might conjure from his...whatever Kalim was to him. He wasn't going to think about any of that. He wasn't. He absolutely was not.
Instead of thinking about any of that, and he's not going to think, he's not going to think about what it might mean and what he wants, Jamil isn't going to think about it- instead. Instead, he half turns towards Kalim.]
Kalim.
[A bit firmer. Less plaintive. More decisive. (Not much, but more. Less tenuous.) He inhales, like he's about to do something drastic, and then- dark eyes watchful. Very watchful. Calm. (Not really; it's the same stillness of the ocean, with currents raging below.) And then-
Very slowly.
Jamil takes his hand and slides it under Kalim's shirt, and Kalim might notice the point in which Jamil's dark, calm eyes seem to light up and he inhales, as he realizes something, and it is this: Jamil actually finds that he...
...really...
...likes touching Kalim Al-Asim, and not just out of duty, this is nowhere near duty.]
(no subject)