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When things sound too good to be true, they usually are.
By this logic, when Kaveh learns that things are being arranged for him to marry the handsome, erudite desert prince, he knows that he’s being set up for disappointment.
He tries keeping his hopes high as he exchanges letters with his future spouse. Though they have incredibly different perspectives, not one topic is a dead end; Alhaitham finds a way to keep the conversation interesting. He remembers details mentioned in letters from months ago; he starts to include sonnets as they grow intimate. More and more of Alhaitham’s words begin snagging his heart.
Incredibly, Kaveh feels himself falling in love with pieces of parchment and beautiful penmanship.
He starts dreaming of their new bedroom, and what it will be like to hold flesh instead of fiber. Kaveh’s inspiration sees the building of the Palace of Paradisaea, a magnificent centerpiece for Sumeru’s new capital. As time goes on, Kaveh almost forgets his fear that something must be wrong with a man so perfect on paper.
When the day finally comes for them to meet in person, however, Kaveh takes one look at his future husband and feels his stomach sink as he realizes what that something is.
The desert prince looks like every simpering whore’s wet dream: He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and incredibly muscular. Even if he weren’t royalty, his piercing gaze alone would be enough to pin people in their place; he oozes an effortless confidence that inspires utter submission.
That confidence had been attractive in abstract. In person, however, Kaveh feels himself shriveling with the reality that his dick is never going to get wet again—because there is absolutely no way someone like that would accept the idea of submitting to him.
Despite his immediate reservations, Kaveh goes through with the arrangement. He stands tall at the altar and says, "I do.” It’s the right choice for his people, and as their prince, he puts their well-being first, even if it means he will suffer the rest of his life for it.
They are pronounced husbands. The princes, now kings, share their first kiss and unite the sister tribes in a historic moment met with joyful cheers. The celebration begins after the ceremony ends, and the festivities span the next seven days and seven long nights. Endless dancing fills the streets, rich feasts are prepared in every home, and bottomless goblets are raised to the new wise kings of Sumeru.
(In truth, it all seemed much more romantic as emerald promises read by candlelight.)
On the eighth day of any marriage, newly-weds are finally given rest and privacy to properly consummate their union. As a gift from their advisors, the kings are given a week. Without anything else to focus on but the imminent question of sex—a topic that Alhaitham had carefully avoided in their letters, now that Kaveh looks back—the jungle king spends the entire morning in anxious anticipation of disaster.
He wakes early and takes breakfast alone. He sneaks into his workshop to sketch for a few hours before a maid comes to shoo him out, admonishing him for leaving his husband alone in the sunroom. Knowing the palace layout like the back of his hand, Kaveh wanders the longest route possible and makes a mental checklist of things that need to be repaired.
All of this is an effort to delay his arrival to a conversation that he knows will disappoint them both, and ruin whatever scraps of ink-bound affection his heart has managed to cling to.
An hour after being admonished by his servant, Kaveh enters the sunroom. Alhaitham is easily spotted on the center divan of three, and for a moment, Kaveh feels a surge of pleasure. This is exactly what he had pictured when Alhaitham wrote that he’d “much rather spend the day reading in warm sunlight than performing the tedium required of a king,” and it delights Kaveh to see his gift being used.
As he quietly approaches one of the other divans and spots something on the low table in front of Alhaitham, however, Kaveh’s veins turn to ice.
This is how the newly-wedded kings end up occupying separate divans.
Despite the midday heat soaking the room, the air feels colder than if they were complete strangers, and all of Kaveh’s silent attention is focused on the bottle of oil sitting between them.
The sheer audacity of leaving that bottle out knowing Kaveh would eventually come and find him here makes Kaveh’s frigid blood boil. With this being the eighth day of their marriage, and Kaveh’s perception of Alhaitham’s preferences based on his physique, the jungle king thinks his counterpart expects him to prepare himself for penetration. If Kaveh has learned anything about Alhaitham in their short time as husbands, the man has audacity in spades.
Kaveh thinks the time is nigh that his husband learns they both have a flair for the dramatic.
Finally breaking the silence between them, Kaveh sniffs before boldly asserting: “If that bottle is meant for me to use, I won’t. I refuse to lay back and spread my legs.”
Without missing a beat, Alhaitham gives a neutral hum, turning a page in his book. “That is unfortunate, as I’ve heard that’s your favorite position.”
Kaveh is momentarily speechless. His words come back as flustered squawks.
“What did you just— What? That’s preposterous! I’ve never laid with anyone that way!"
“The whispers of your past lovers contradict your protest—”
“—then hear me clearly: They were never permitted to enter me. Nor do they service me any longer, per your request,” Kaveh is sure to remind him, frustration evident.
Alhaitham dispassionately waves his hand and continues: “After they recount doing all the work to lift themselves off your lap as you lay back on your pillows, they follow their stories by bitterly lamenting that you are now mine alone.”
They aren’t the only bitter ones, Kaveh thinks, vexed by how easily Alhaitham’s words stir his libido. He reasons that their eight days of marriage is the longest he’s gone without sex, and that must be why he's so affected by the conversation, no other reason.
Swallowing thickly, Kaveh glances aside to give his necessary reply. “I see. So they spoke of their nights with me around you? How crude of them; I will be sure to reprimand their loose tongues.”
Kaveh mutters this with the intent of ending the conversation. Instead, Alhaitham surprises him with a soft tut.
“There is no need for you to act so modestly in front of me, husband. Actually, their gossipping was quite informative.”
Perplexed by this remark, Kaveh looks over at Alhaitham and watches as one of his muscular arms plucks up his bookmark with a featherlight touch. Kaveh is momentarily lost watching the graceful flex beneath supple skin, but pulls himself together in time to hear his husband’s next statement.
“They had much to say about your generous appetite, though they were even more fixated on descriptions of your… generous equipment,” he finishes tactfully.
Kaveh stares at Alhaitham for a few moments, like the desert king had said something utterly incomprehensible. Kaveh does his best to understand what Alhaitham is insinuating with such a blatant remark. At first glance, one would think the man unaffected by their conversation, casually setting his book aside while they talked. When Kaveh’s eyes slip down from his face to his body seeking an indication of his true level of interest, however… he gets lost.
The long line of Alhaitham’s god-gifted form against the divan deserves worship in every sense of the word. Kaveh drowns in a resurgence of fantasies that had nearly made him lose interest in other people entirely. He’s consumed with the desire to kiss Alhaitham from the high of his cheek to the exposed crease of his hip and lavish the man with every physical attention he’s ever dreamed of giving, attention that he now struggles to withhold.
Carmine eyes then center over the cloth gathered at the temptation of Alhaitham’s crotch, only a single layer of fabric between him and treasures he itches to claim.
“Your lecherous gaze betrays you,” Alhaitham interrupts.
Kaveh’s eyes guiltily dart upward, but he gets caught in the valley of pectorals sculpted to perfection.
Alhaitham’s voice is unimpressed, chest heaving with his sigh. “Have you no shame?”
Kaveh is embarrassed to have been so blatantly caught—twice, at that—but no witty retort comes before he succumbs to Alhaitham’s display once more. In this moment borne of horny desperation, Kaveh bites his tongue before giving an honest answer to the near-perfect stranger wearing his ring and crown.
“Shame be damned, I am a man with eyes,” Kaveh finally mutters, “and a body that aches for you.”
His sincere words are met with silence—mocking silence, it feels like—and Kaveh scowls at the idea of being played for a fool.
“What of mine do you ache for, husband?” Alhaitham finally asks. Kaveh’s scowl deepens. If this conversation has taught him anything, it's that Alhaitham must know what he’s doing, playing with his words and teasing Kaveh while opening his thighs and letting his robes fall just so.
“Your less infuriating hole,” Kaveh growls, “or will I find your lower mouth just as abrasive as the one you barb me with now?”
“With such a pessimistic attitude, your wedding band might be the last ring you ever penetrate. You will never discover just how pleasing my mouths can be if you refuse to ask for either one,” Alhaitham replies matter-of-factly.
Kaveh scoffs. “Men like you are only interested in sharing your scepter, not your sphincter. Why make the effort to ask for something you’d never give me?”
Alhaitham remains silent until Kaveh turns his head to glare at him for an answer to his rhetorical question. The desert king holds his gaze for several beats before determining that Kaveh is serious, and he shakes his head.
“Do you understand Sumerian, beloved husband? Tradition is quite clear, even for an arrangement such as ours: The one who wishes to bear responsibility must first ask their lover for entrance, and you,” Alhaitham emphasizes pointedly, “have not deigned to ask, for fear that I might say yes.”
Disbelief and exhilaration war with each other in the jungle king’s mind as he suddenly realizes what Alhaitham’s getting at. Bear responsibility, Alhaitham says with his sleek tongue, and Kaveh bites his own with a sharp inhale as his dick twitches with a strong interest to volunteer.
Strangely—incredibly—Alhaitham may not be the top Kaveh thought he was after all.
“But—as a prince,” Kaveh blusters, attempting to save face, “and with your physique, and especially your attitude—no one would ever assume you’d spread your legs!”
A throaty chuckle escapes Alhaitham, teal eyes lidded. “Do you know what happens when you ‘assume’, husband?” He pauses rhetorically.
“As my general would say: It makes an ass out of you and me.”
Kaveh groans at the egregious pun. “Ugh, so maybe it does—but be clear with me instead of mocking me further!” he demands, sitting forward on his divan.
“When you said that you would offer either mouth to me—”
“—if you’d ever asked for either one—”
“—yes, well, I’m asking you now: Will you actually make good on that offer? Do you actually want to be entered?”
“When sufficiently prepared for it, yes,” Alhaitham answers blandly. “I’ve heard that it hurts to sit after you’re finished, and we do a great deal of sitting on our thrones.”
Wide red eyes stare at the man, language abandoning Kaveh completely. His frustration from their argument is forgotten, his mouth dry and tongue heavy as his thoughts outpace his ability to voice them.
“Then come here,” Kaveh hears himself suddenly say, “and I’ll prepare you.”
He watches with a slightly dumbfounded look on his face as Alhaitham stands up to oblige.
Broad hands reach out to rest on Kaveh’s shoulders. They keep him rooted to the divan, as if Kaveh would dare move, and strong thighs spread to settle around Kaveh's hips. After all this time dreading the moment Alhaitham might show an interest in having sex—had it really been so easy as to simply invite the man onto his lap?
The jungle king is familiar with this position, bearing the weight of his partner as he rakes his eyes over them with open anticipation. Just as his new crown is heavier than before, so is his newest lover. Juxtaposing all his dexterous words, the desert king is muscled and powerful, and Kaveh's breath catches as the man's knees pull Kaveh’s silk robes taut over his tenting crotch. Kaveh exhales needily for the friction, his expression twisting with rapture and desire as he realizes this is finally happening.
He bites his lip as he looks up at his husband, hoping to see his wishes mirrored. Instead, he sees the face of an impassive god, the apathetic subject of fantasy and adulation… or so he thinks at first.
As Kaveh looks closer, he recognizes the subtle tells of inexperience.
The desert king carries himself like an unfeeling statue, tall and stoic and intimidating, but Kaveh’s fingertips assure him that there is a fluttering heart inside his barreled chest. Kaveh spots the ruddy flush of Alhaitham's shoulders by accident, and the pink color guides him to look over the man's throat where Kaveh can see the rapid beat of his heart.
Kaveh catches other little chips in the facade of indifference, too: The way Alhaitham’s tongue darts to whet his lips, the slight tension in the grip on Kaveh's shoulders, and how those piercing eyes suddenly won't meet his when Alhaitham finally brushes ass to cock.
There’s a whisper of a question in his mind, then: Has Alhaitham ever done this before?
The prideful thought of being Alhaitham’s first melts Kaveh completely, and his hands become magnetized to Alhaitham's skin. The flowering jungle is starting to learn the delicate runes of the shifting sands, and he grasps more and more of the mysterious desert with each handful of the man’s firmly toned ass.
For all his sharp edges and coarse personality, there is an unexpected innocence to Alhaitham—an innocence that Kaveh hasn’t known since his first night in bed as a newly-crowned prince—and he leans forward to mouth over warm flesh in sensual greeting.
There, at last, he hears the faintest gasp of pleasure.
Kaveh pulls away and looks up, gazing upon the mirror of his wishes, and it enthralls him immediately. The months of letters come rushing back, emerald ink pouring out of his heart as he acknowledges his own silly misunderstanding. Here is the stranger that had written him sonnets; here is the flesh he had craved through fiber.
Ah, Kaveh thinks with a smile, cupping the face of a god descended. So you’re human, too.
Guided by Kaveh's gentle touch, they kiss for the second time. They learn a tongue known to lovers since time immemorial, with a dialect especially for them. When their lips part, the jungle vibrates with a deep purr that shifts the soft desert sands. They are both new to this strange language, vulnerable and open and so different from anything else they've known, but Kaveh is bold, so he tries first.
"Alhaitham," he murmurs, squeezing the man's supple hips. "What are you thinking?"
Kaveh knows his husband is inclined to silence when he is unsure of his answer. In this case, however, Alhaitham opts for the language of bodies, and shifts himself down against Kaveh, drawing a nervous shiver out of them both. Jeweled fingers wrap more firmly around Alhaitham's trim waist and encourage him to roll down again. He does, and the base of Kaveh's spine tightens with the animal instinct to thrust up into the pleasure. He barely manages to lie still beneath Alhaitham as he suffers a deep inhale.
"Yes—yes, just like that," Kaveh breathes out, eyes lidding as he lays back.
Alhaitham's throat bobs. He does the same motion again more forcefully, smoother this time. With Kaveh's moan as a reward, he drives their hips together again, and again, growing more confident each time Kaveh moans his pleasure.
The stray thought from before resurfaces: Kaveh has an idea as to why his husband's agitating behavior from earlier—bringing up tradition and needlessly dragging this out—might make any sense.
Kaveh takes a hazy moment to look at him again. Alhaitham's gaze is focused on the narrow space between them. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and there's a strange sort of stress in his typically lax shoulders. He wears the look of a man on a tightrope, performing a skill he’s never learned while gaining experience on the job.
Having seen these little signs in a number of his old lovers, Kaveh’s almost certain of it now. It will only take a single question to confirm what Kaveh suspects.
"Alhaitham," Kaveh calls, reaching up with one hand to catch the man's chin. The rhythm of their frotting stutters, and there is a distinct flash of worry in Alhaitham's eyes before his face is fully schooled into emotive silence.
Undeterred, Kaveh sweeps away the sand from the treasure he knows lies beneath. He offers Alhaitham an inviting smile, something warm and defenseless, encouraging him to mirror the same.
"Alhaitham... are you a virgin?"
The desert night is cold and unforgiving, but the warm morning blush over Alhaitham's shoulders tells Kaveh everything he needs to know.
Kaveh’s heart swells painfully in his chest and he can only laugh to release the pressure, gripping Alhaitham tightly as he sits up. So many emotions surge through Kaveh at once that he can't contain it all on his face. He settles for a wide grin with glittering eyes, and before Alhaitham can misunderstand him, Kaveh speaks his adoration aloud.
"My love," he says, the words so full and rich and sweet in his mouth that he wonders if Alhaitham can taste it too. "Of all the dowry gifts you’d promised to give me, this I will return in full."
A bashful look crosses Alhaitham's face, hidden from the world by the proximity of their bodies. Kaveh wants to sing as he leans forward and Alhaitham does not lean away.
Their lips meet in something chaste and sweet, so unlike the open-mouthed lust that he used to find in past flings. While his new husband’s tongue has recently been sandpaper on his mood, it feels velvet-smooth as Kaveh strokes it with his own. He trills with encouraging delight as Alhaitham tentatively returns the gesture, and Kaveh hears a gentle hum in reply. Like this, they negotiate with their tongues in a dance Alhaitham has clearly never practiced.
Their teeth click in a subtle misstep as one pushes and the other fails to pull. They both draw away in embarrassment, but Kaveh doesn’t go far. He presses heated kisses against the stone jaw he has admired all week, and Alhaitham basks in the worship like a sunning rock, turning his head aside with lidded eyes.
“Gorgeous,” Kaveh confides against Alhaitham’s skin. “Handsome, incredible, mesmerizing.” He kisses each word over Alhaitham’s throat and continues the journey down the man’s generous chest. He lathes his tongue over shifting muscle, hands firmly kneading Alhaitham’s ass, soft whimpers of excitement slipping out between breathless groans. He casts aside Alhaitham’s robes with eager fingers, unwrapping him like a gift, and thinks to take a nipple into his mouth.
A hand fastens on his chin first, however. Kaveh groans as he’s pulled away from his task, instead guided to look up at his husband’s face once more.
“You’re going to need this,” Alhaitham murmurs in a low half-whisper. Kaveh feels glass slide against his knuckles. He lets go of Alhaitham’s ass to grasp the bottle of oil instead.
“And you’re going to love it. Trust me,” Kaveh promises, catching Alhaitham in another deep kiss.
Sun-warmed oil drips over Kaveh’s fingers and onto the divan. Their kiss distracts Alhaitham from the hand that digs its way to an untouched treasure. The desert is quiet on the surface, but something vibrates beneath the sand, the tremors growing larger and larger until Kaveh burrows one finger into a tight tunnel and flicks his wrist.
“Ah—!”
The airy noise escapes Alhaitham without warning. He shudders powerfully in the wake of such helpless pleasure, head bowed. It’s the most deference Kaveh has ever seen him show. Entranced, Kaveh doesn’t look away from him for a second, watching how the man writhes as he strikes that spot again and again. Alhaitham’s impressive cock bobs in the air between them, but neither seem to pay it any mind, both focused on the hot bundle of need deep inside the desert king’s temple that drives Alhaitham near to whimpering.
“Keep making those sounds,” Kaveh urges, driving a second finger into Alhaitham’s opening. Nails dig into Kaveh’s shoulders as Alhaitham takes it, even going as far as to rock back into Kaveh’s hand. “There’s no need to rush, darling. You wanted to be able to sit after this, didn’t you?” Kaveh teases, though the words are met with a sharp glare.
“I can take more than this,” Alhaitham mutters.
Kaveh asks curiously, “How do you know?”
“My fingers are thicker than yours.”
There’s a beat of silence before Kaveh laughs, “Oh, the audacity—”
Alhaitham gasps out again as a third finger forces itself in. “More,” he demands, and Kaveh obliges. Four fingers drill into Alhaitham’s greedy quicksand, his breath raspy with pleasure and desire. Kaveh already knows that he must sink deeper for his husband to be properly satisfied.
“Tell me what you want,” Kaveh whispers, forcing Alhaitham to realize how loud he was being. He repeats himself as Alhaitham stifles his noises: “Tell me what you want from me, my love.”
“The same thing you do,” Alhaitham replies quickly, but it’s Kaveh’s turn to tut.
“Come, Alhaitham. Where are your pretty words now?” He asks sweetly. Alhaitham groans, dropping his head to Kaveh’s shoulder.
“Kaveh,” he replies, a plea in his tone. Kaveh hums, deep and satisfied, as he rakes through Alhaitham’s hair with his clean hand and pulls on it enough to free his husband’s lips.
“Go on, sing for me. Wasn’t that what you promised? A duet every night, ourselves the only audience,” Kaveh quotes, brushing his lips over blushing ears. Alhaitham gasps and trembles with sensitivity, a weakness that Kaveh will abuse for the rest of their lives. He can tell that Alhaitham is embarrassed, but at last, the prideful mirage is dispelled in favor of the truth.
Using the amorous words that had captured Kaveh’s fleeting heart in his final letter, Alhaitham artfully begs: “I ache for you to finally fill the place you’ve carved out for yourself.”
Kaveh withdraws his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his oiled cock, and does just that.
It is here that Kaveh realizes Alhaitham has been perfect for him all along.
As the weight of Alhaitham’s body slides down his shaft, Kaveh’s head falls back to the pillows and his legs spread to enjoy how tight his husband feels around him. Abstinence has made him sensitive enough that he could cum just from being fully sheathed in a wet hole, but Kaveh doesn’t dare waste the opportunity to show Alhaitham exactly what now belongs to him alone.
He opens his eyes to look up at Alhaitham, now the most handsome cock sleeve in existence, and grins. “Next comes the part where you lift yourself off my lap.”
Hazy teal eyes open just enough to leer at Kaveh in response. “So your lovers didn’t lie. You make others do all the work.”
“That’s not quite true. It’s just that once you start, you won’t want to stop.”
Kaveh’s smug look is interrupted by a sharp gasp as Alhaitham clenches down on his cock.
“Then we have a long week ahead of us, don’t we, husband?”