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When Alhaitham arrived home, he was already thinking of a shower, food, and sleep—preferably in that order. Sweat limned his skin, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead, his cheeks, stray strands kissing his lips. He could feel, at the valleys of his chest, his armpits, and even the bend of his elbows, the slide of wet droplets caressing the contours of his body as gravity guided them downwards.
He checked his phone; it was just past 5, their apartment complex was absolutely quiet, even the neighbour they kept filing noise complaints against seemed to be sleeping. So when Alhaitham pushed open the door to see Kaveh sitting at the desk, the lamp light set to low, he was caught off-guard.
Kaveh turned his head, looking as surprised as he always did when Alhaitham came home late and he was still up. Then something funny happened to his expression. It twisted, like his eyebrows wanted to go one way and his mouth wanted to go the other, resulting in a strange funhouse mirror face of absolute ghastly shock. "Haitham! You, you...!" he said, and then: "What are you wearing!?"—in the same tone someone might say, "Why'd you kick that cat!?" or "Are you admitting to forced labour!?"
"Too many clothes," Alhaitham replied. It was true. He hated theme nights. He liked the challenge of picking the songs, but Dehya and Candace somehow always managed to convince him to do things that were entirely out of character.
Kaveh made a strange noise. He made a stranger noise when Alhaitham bit the tip of his glove, tugging it gracelessly off. He flexed his hand. All night it had felt like a constriction, but now that it was off, his hand felt strangely unreal, as if it didn't belong to him. His headphones returned to the cradle, he dropped the glove in the hamper, then its twin, and finally the jacket, and when he turned around it was to find that Kaveh wasn't facing the desk anymore; he'd turned his chair 180°, and was staring at Alhaitham as if he were an encroaching deadline.
It took Alhaitham's mind a moment to catch up. Somehow he always took the club back home with him, into the rideshare and up the elevator and through the apartment door. His brain, his hands hadn't quite left the zone. His ears were still pounding, even his heart still beating to the rhythm of music. But his body was honest: Stimulated by Kaveh's gaze, now his heart beat slightly faster.
"... Really?" Alhaitham said. "You're in the mood?"
"Who bought that outfit for you?"
"Dehya."
"Remind me to take Dehya out for drinks," Kaveh said, as if he were in any position to treat anyone for drinks. His expression was still utterly flabbergasted. He opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. Closed it. Swallowed. Finally he managed: "You look. Really good."
Then he held out his hand, and Alhaitham sighed. But all of his exasperation didn't stop him from obeying the unspoken command: He stepped forward, socked feet noiseless against the laminate floor, and allowed Kaveh to pull him into his lap.
"It's late," Alhaitham said. "I'm tired."
"Mmhmm," Kaveh said, absolutely not listening. He placed his hands on Alhaitham's hips, then slowly dragged them up. The fabric, damp, caught against his palms, tugging and rising up, partly slipping from his high-waisted pants; and then dropped back down, heavy. Up, up, up, until they met the straps around Alhaitham's chest.
"This doesn't look comfortable," Kaveh said.
Alhaitham looked down. "It isn't," he said. Dehya's interpretation of "cyberpunk" seemed to translate to "entirely too many straps and buckles." He felt like a character from some Final Fantasy game: There was a buckle at his neck, sitting just below his Adam's apple; straps on his shoulders, where his sleeveless top cut from fabric to skin; they'd even dangled from his jacket, and all night the rings had made slight ting-ting noises to the beat as he moved with the rhythm. Even his pants had fallen victim. Why did anyone need to wear two belts? Alhaitham didn't know, and he hadn't asked Dehya.
The worst of the outfit was the harness: two straps criss-crossing in an sideways X across his chest, meeting directly at his right pectoral muscle.
Or, phrased another way—
"Why is there a metal ring on your nipple?" Kaveh asked.
"It's not—"
"Why is there a metal ring surrounding your nipple?" Kaveh amended, before Alhaitham could voice his objection. And his hand followed the leather strap down and across to exactly that point, fingers caressing the metal, his middle finger pressing in, saying hello to Alhaitham's nipple through layers of fabric and sweat. Alhaitham shivered, bent his head; his thighs, bracketing Kaveh's hips, tightened.
Suddenly, that he was sticky and tired, that he stank of sweat and smoke and who-knows-what, took on a different meaning.
"... Actually, it's supposed to sit lower," Alhaitham explained.
"It rode up, huh," Kaveh said.
Now that Kaveh was massaging it, Alhaitham was suddenly too aware that all night, the ring of metal had slid up, and Alhaitham had tugged it back down, and then it had slid up again, etcetera etcetera in such an aggravating cycle that Alhaitham had given up. Except now his nipple felt weirdly swollen and full, like it was sitting on his body instead of a part of it. "Is it uncomfortable?" Kaveh asked.
"Yes," Alhaitham said.
"Let me get you undressed," Kaveh said sympathetically. Except he didn't loosen the chest strap, as was the next logical solution. Instead, he undid the buckle at Alhaitham's neck. As he slid the strap free of the loops, his gaze focused, Alhaitham stared down at him. He couldn't tilt his head down; Kaveh kept his other hand on Alhaitham's chin, fingers curled under his jaw.
His field of view was thus not ideal.
What did Kaveh's expression look like? Alhaitham wanted to know. He could only extrapolate as Kaveh undid the zipper of his top. He felt every inch of that zipper travelling down his chest, revealing more and more of him in an ever-widening V. He wasn't wearing any undershirt. "It will ruin the lines of your outfit," Dehya had said.
Thus the air, hitting his overheated skin, made him shiver.
Kaveh tugged at the fabric, easing it up and up, past the straps. "Arms up," he said, and together they manoeuvred the top off his body.
Alhaitham still didn't understand why Kaveh was undressing him this way. Shouldn't Kaveh take the harness off, and then the shirt.
Why was Kaveh...?
The fabric suddenly caught against the ring of metal. Kaveh tugged, not ungentle but firm, and then it was free.
The metal ring was not cold. It had been warmed by his own body temperature for many hours. And yet the feel of it, against his bare skin, was startling.
—As was the feel of the leather.
For many long moments, his arms were caught by the shirt fabric; he heard Kaveh laugh a little. It was a quiet, amused chuckle—if Kaveh hadn't slept, he'd likely been working, so he was probably just as tired as Alhaitham. The timbre of that laugh was a little low, a little hoarse.
He felt Kaveh kiss his armpits, in a might-as-well gesture since his arms were up, lips sliding against hair and the slippery sweat there. Then with a final tug, Alhaitham was entirely free of the shirt. Kaveh flung it to the floor.
"I really owe Dehya a drink. Several drinks. An entire bar."
"Your credit card bill—"
Kaveh leaned forward and, with a broad stripe of his tongue, licked the sweat on Alhaitham's chest.
The path of that hot, wet, squishy muscle was interrupted by the leather straps of the harness. Up to the collarbone, where Kaveh kissed and mouthed the gem that Alhaitham would never explain; and then back down, exploring the contours of Alhaitham's chest, like he wanted to drink up all the sweat and replace it with wet kisses and saliva. Alhaitham placed his hands on Kaveh's shoulders, squeezing lightly, as if he didn't know if he wanted Kaveh to come closer or move away.
"I should've come, I bet you looked great tonight," Kaveh said. "If you weren't too lazy to cheat I'd worry. I can imagine you standing under the lights, working the crowd... how many people requested songs tonight?"
"The club has a no request policy," Alhaitham breathily reminded him. And then: "Anyway, Cyno keeps them away."
Kaveh laughed again, that low tired chuckle that said only his upright dick was keeping him awake. He leaned back, and his gaze travelled up from Alhaitham's face down to his pants. Alhaitham thought he'd continue with the undressing, but he didn't. One hand massaged Alhaitham's side, the other that ring of metal. Abruptly, he said: "Your skin's red."
His fingers traced where the straps had rubbed, through the fabric, against Alhaitham's skin. It felt a little irritated. "And your nipple is swollen." And he caught it in between thumb and forefinger, twisting a little. Alhaitham jerked, and their cocks met, separated only by Alhaitham's leather pants and Kaveh's slim cotton sleepwear. As if in apology, Kaveh leaned down to kiss that swollen nipple. He couldn't suck and play with it as he usually could, with the metal in the way; instead, he mouthed at it messily, the tip of his tongue tracing the bumps of the areola, saliva dripping down, some of it caught by the metal ring.
Then Kaveh pulled lightly against the strap—there wasn't much give to the material, and yet, when he let go, there was apparently enough elasticity that it sprung back to slap against the already-irritated skin on Alhaitham's chest. He squirmed. His left nipple suddenly ached a little, in some strange mirrored response. It felt empty, lacking.
Every time he twisted his hips, they bumped against Kaveh's, just enough to send sparks of sensation up his spine but not enough to actually satisfy. "Kaveh," he demanded.
"Mmm?" Kaveh murmured. He pulled again at the strap—further, this time, and when he released it that fwup! was loud enough to be shocking. Alhaitham gasped. Suddenly he was incapable of words, so he grabbed the back of Kaveh's head and guided it where he wanted it to go—to his neglected left nipple.
Kaveh huffed at that, a hot rushing exhalation that slid across Alhaitham's skin. And then his mouth descended, at first just mouthing messily and then forming a suction to suck at Alhaitham's nipple, like he wanted it to get as swollen as its twin, which his other hand twisted and tugged at. Alhaitham squirmed and moved, there was a strange feeling gathering in his gut, similar to oncoming orgasm and yet not. His hand twisted in Kaveh's hair, forcing his mouth closer to his chest; Kaveh made a noise, his teeth slid against Alhaitham's skin; and then, as if understanding what Alhaitham truly wanted, he suddenly grabbed Alhaitham's ass with both hands and he violently pulled Alhaitham against him.
It wasn't enough. It really, truly wasn't enough, Alhaitham wanted bare skin against bare skin, or Kaveh inside him, or Kaveh working his penis—and yet—that electricity in his stomach suddenly shot up and outwards, travelling down his arms, his legs, to the tip of his fingers and his toes and the top of his head in a shocking cousin to orgasm. He curled inwards, as if in self defence, stiffening as he shook; and then it was over, he was panting, saliva was leaking out the corner of his mouth.
What was that—? he started to think, but before he could suddenly Kaveh had hands under his butt and with a grunt of effort, they were standing; they were moving across the room; and then he was thrown onto the bed, bouncing once and then twice while the bedsprings protested. Kaveh's fingers fumbled at Alhaitham's back, and Alhaitham's muddled brain couldn't comprehend what he was doing until suddenly, finally, the harness fell away and to the floor.
It had fallen to the floor, and yet, Alhaitham felt it acutely. Exactly. Could feel the ghost of the straps travelling around his torso, could feel that metal ring where it had slid up and down and across his nipple and chest. Kaveh shoved him into the mattress, and it was as if he could feel the straps digging into his back. And then Kaveh's hips shoved against him, his hard dick settling right into the valley of his pecs, his testacles slapping against his abs.
Alhaitham couldn't see his face.
Kaveh his hands pressed against the sheets, his knees caging Alhaitham's torso. All Alhaitham could see was the way the muscles of his stomach worked, his flat brown nipples, the sweat dripping down his collarbone to hit Alhaitham's chin. He grinded against Alhaitham's chest, each brutal thrust shoving all the air from Alhaitham's lungs, at first steady and then suddenly faster and faster.
His dick rubbed against Alhaitham's pecs, slid over his nipples, his upper abs, and whenever it sat against that ghostly irritated sensation of where the harness had gripped him Alhaitham felt it even more. His hands twisted against the blankets, and—
Kaveh came, a thick spurt of cum hitting Alhaitham's chin, his chest, and then fat dribbles of it travelling down his dick. For a moment he was suspended above Alhaitham, taut. And then he suddenly collapsed, with just enough presence of mind to at least aim his descent to roughly Alhaitham's side instead of landing on top of him. The mattress bounced again. They really needed to buy a new one; that noisy neighbour they liked to complain about also frequently complained about them.
For a moment, there was only the harsh panting noises that came after sex. Then Kaveh shimmied down so they were roughly face-to-face and said: "So... should we take a shower?" And he placed a hand on Alhaitham's chest, tracing the thick red lines there.
Alhaitham opened his mouth, closed it. Somehow, he knew that they wouldn't only be taking a shower. And he was so tired. But. He trapped Kaveh's hand and said, "Let's go."