(exhale) inhale

by cutieterrarium

Summary:

"You're in heat, touching yourself to my scent," Kaveh says slowly, each word deliberate, just to see the flush of humiliation on Alhaitham's face. "If I were an alpha, I'd jump you."

"What does being an alpha have anything to do with it?" Alhaitham says. "You just lack courage."

He's baiting you, Kaveh thinks to himself. Don't fall for it, don't respond, don't—

"Oh yeah?" says his traitor of a mouth, speaking without permission.

Notes:

Omegas have heats. Alphas do not rut. There are no betas. No pheromones, no scent glands, no mating bonds. That's it, that's my omegaverse worldbuilding for this fic. Enjoy.

This fic was written during Patch 3.2 and may contain lore inaccuracies.

"Urgh," says Kaveh, when he gets home. "What's that smell?"

The living room is uncharacteristically messy. It's dark, the evening light turned green from the stained glass windows. There's a lump on one of their wooden sofas, moving about; as soon as Kaveh takes a few steps into the room, the lump stills, rigidly motionless.

Oh. The lump on the sofa is Alhaitham, curled up under a blanket—under Kaveh's blanket, the ass. Kaveh wanders further inside, planning to make sure Alhaitham isn't dying or something, before fucking off to his own room. He stops short, however, once he's only a few steps away: Alhaitham's face is red, his breathing a little harsh.

Kaveh realises immediately what's happening. He's an omega too, okay? Alhaitham's obviously in heat.

"Really?" he complains. "You're spending your heat in our living room?"

"It's my living room," Alhaitham says.

"Yes, yes," Kaveh says, dropping his stuff right there onto the floor. Any other time, Alhaitham might comment, but not today. Kaveh approaches.

Alhaitham's scent is strong in the air. Out loud, Kaveh would call it pungent. (Which it is.) But it's also, well, more of a very strong forest smell. Not pleasant, of course, Alhaitham's scent can't hold a candle to Kaveh's, but it brings to mind the great giants of Sumeru's primeval forests, so looming and tall that, standing before them, a traveler might feel impossibly awed.

"You look awful," Kaveh says, because Alhaitham does. He's all sweaty and flushed, his bangs damp, strands of hair stuck against his pale skin. His eyes glint like gems in the darkness. Kaveh swallows. "Really awful," he repeats, mostly to himself.

"I feel awful," Alhaitham says.

"... You're agreeing with me?" Kaveh says in surprise.

"Why shouldn't I agree when you're stating the obvious? Should I also disagree with you that water is wet just to be contrary?"

Kaveh rolls his eyes. "You would if you were feeling better. You've taken your meds?" he asks, because omegas should look out for each other, even if the omega that needs looking after is his asshole roommate.

"I have," Alhaitham says. There's something about his tone... he's snippier than usual. Kaveh sniffs, leaning forward, and Alhaitham rears back, as affronted as a cat.

There's something too about the way the blanket is drawn tight... and something about Alhaitham's expression, like that of a man interrupted while doing something important, like, say—

"Were you masturbating in our living room!?"

"... Yes," Alhaitham says, edging the blanket up to cover blushing cheeks.

Kaveh makes an incoherent noise. "Why?"

Alhaitham, of course, answers the question in a perfectly reasonable tone. "I was napping on the sofa, and I woke up feeling aroused." He adds, "You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow."

I woke up feeling aroused. Kaveh's eyebrows jump. "Well, you didn't have to do it under my blanket," he says, like he isn't picturing exactly what Alhaitham was doing under said blanket. He's a visual person, which is unfortunately currently working against him. His brain conjures images of Alhaitham, sleepy and muddled, waking up on Kaveh's blanket, rubbing his cheek against it and... smelling it...

"Wait a minute," Kaveh says, eyes narrowing. "You hate that blanket."

Alhaitham tugs said blanket further up so that only his grey-green eyes show. The blanket he once said he detests. Yes, Kaveh remembers now, he said—

"You said you couldn't stand the stench of it!" Kaveh cries.

Alhaitham's still not answering. He always has a witty rejoinder on hand, always has some way of bloodlessly cutting Kaveh down with words. Even when Kaveh is right. Especially when Kaveh is right.

There's no smart answer now, no witty rejoinder. When Kaveh steps forward, Alhaitham glares up at him. He reminds Kaveh of a bristling cat. "Don't tell me you were, what, smelling my blanket while you were jerking off."

Still no reply. Just that glare, like Alhaitham wants to gut him.

No. Fucking. Way. Kaveh's right, isn't he. He's right.

Kaveh's not stupid. He knows people joke about them bickering like an old, married couple, but they aren't anything like that. For one: they don't bicker. They argue. And not the kind of arguments Kaveh enjoys. They drive him mad sometimes, and the way Alhaitham never seems as bothered infuriates Kaveh. That doesn't mean he misses what goes on between them, sometimes. It's something like attraction, except most of the time, they are the like poles of a magnet repulsing each other.

But sometimes... just sometimes, Kaveh can maybe admit to those poles reversing, so that they are drawn to each other. Unwillingly, and yet inexorably.

But only very, very occasionally.

Like now.

"You're in heat, touching yourself to my scent," Kaveh says slowly, each word deliberate, just to see the flush of humiliation on Alhaitham's face. "If I were an alpha, I'd jump you."

"What does being an alpha have anything to do with it?" Alhaitham says. "You just lack courage."

He's baiting you, Kaveh thinks to himself. Don't fall for it, don't respond, don't—

"Oh yeah?" says his traitor of a mouth, speaking without permission. To add insult to injury, his body moves on its own, too, jerking the blanket down and off and—

And—

Kaveh abruptly stops, losing all momentum.

Alhaitham's usual homewear is loose pants and a nightshirt. Well, there's no shirt in sight, and his pants are pulled half-off, the waistband dangling on one calf. There's a damp patch underneath him.

Oh, sorry for interrupting, Kaveh imagines himself saying, perfectly snide, perhaps with an arched eyebrow to accompany the words. Nothing makes it past the block in his throat. He manages only a garbled, inarticulate noise.

The nipples of Alhaitham's generous chest are pink and stiff. His skin glistens with sweat, highlighting every single sculpted muscle. Kaveh's gaze drops slowly down, to a pretty little cock—it's hard and weeping, as if begging for attention.

"Are you going to just look?" Alhaitham asks, his voice a throaty rasp.

Kaveh looks back at him. Alhaitham's chin is tilted up in challenge. Kaveh reads embarrassed determination on his deadpan face. "Ngh," Kaveh says.

Alhaitham licks his fingers, getting them nice and wet. And then he drags his hand down to between his strong thighs.

His hand blocks the view, but Kaveh knows exactly what he's doing with those fingers.

He's fucking himself.

Kaveh's own asshole clenches in a visceral response. A rush of heat runs up his belly.

He lowers himself to the ground so he can get a better view. And there it is, the show he never thought he wanted but got anyway: Alhaitham's pink asshole, glistening with his own juices, his two fingers stuffed inside. His ass and the insides of his thighs gleam with wetness like newly glazed porcelain. Alhaitham pulls his fingers back with an obscene, wet squelch; when he pushes them back inside, more fluid is pushed out, dripping down lovely and viscous.

"Damn," Kaveh says. He can feel himself reacting: stiffening in the front, while in the back his asshole flutters, wanting to eat those same thick fingers. He grips the outside of Alhaitham's thighs and tilts his hips up so he can see better.

"If you're just going to look, go away," Alhaitham snaps.

"You're so annoying," Kaveh says, but he says the words the same way he might pen a stock reply to some letter he doesn't really care about. He grips Alhaitham's wrist and tugs it away. "Wooow," he says. "You're gaping."

He sees Alhaitham's muscles clench as if in response. Kaveh rubs along that pretty hole and then pushes inside with his two middle fingers. Alhaitham's hips jolt, at first rejecting the intrusion and then undulating like he wants Kaveh to go deeper.

Kaveh knows exactly how his fingers feel, inside. He's got an artist's rough fingers, calloused, the nails unevenly clipped. Dry, they're no good; slicked up, the texture feels amazing. "Ah," Alhaitham says, for once not criticising, just letting his thighs fall open.

"You look so slutty right now," Kaveh says, delighted, his fingers moving in and out.

"If I was a prostitute, you couldn't afford me," Alhaitham says.

Kaveh glowers up at him and snarls, "I wouldn't buy you even if you were a—! Ah. Um."

Thing is, he's on his knees on the floor in front of the sofa. And Alhaitham's got his legs spread wide open before him. Which means, when he looks up, what he sees is Alhaitham's pink cock, his sculpted abs and rounded pecs, all framing a face flushed with desire. The vulgarity is indescribable. So if Kaveh loses his words, it's not his fault.

Alhaitham smirks. Urgh, he's an ass. Before he can manage to spout any bullshit, Kaveh leans forward to take Alhaitham into his mouth.

It works. Alhaitham's words transform into grunts and groans. Unfortunately, Kaveh realises he's made a miscalculation. What is he doing? He's got Alhaitham in his mouth, his fingers in his ass, and for what? Why is he doing all the work here?

Even through all the internal complaints, he keeps moving. Alhaitham's a decent mouthful for an omega, just big enough to be a nice weight on his tongue if not hit the back of his throat. Kaveh prefers choking on dick but this isn't bad; he likes the way his tongue has freedom to move, the way he can easily bob back and forth and coat Alhaitham's sweet little cock with saliva.

He pulls back to suck at the tip, looking up to throw Alhaitham a grin. As soon as their gazes meet, the other man comes, squeezing his digits so hard it almost hurts. His pretty cock jerks, spewing liquidy cum. Kaveh swallows gamely, making a face. Some of it slips down his chin, landing on the sofa, the floor, the blanket.

The blanket.

Kaveh leans down to smell it. Their scents intermingle in the fabric: his faint from the days away, Alhaitham's fresh and new. He laps at Alhaitham's inner thighs, his wet ass, drags the flat of his tongue across Alhaitham's testicles and his softened cock.

"Ngh," Alhaitham says, moving back, clearly too sensitive. Kaveh lets him go.

"What about me?" he gripes.

"What about you?" Alhaitham asks, tone dry. He tilts his head against the back of the sofa, his neck a graceful arc. His chest moves up and down like he just went running. He exudes lazy satisfaction.

Well, he might be satisfied, but Kaveh isn't! He pulls off his top, tugs the fabrics at his waist free and throws them down; the ornaments clatter as they hit the floor.

He climbs over Alhaitham. "Me too," he says imperiously.

"No," Alhaitham says.

"That's not fair!"

"I didn't ask for your help," Alhaitham says. "If you want to orgasm so badly..." He pauses, eyes narrowing as he thinks. "Come inside me," he finishes.

"... Huh?" Kaveh says, taken aback.

Alhaitham reaches down, spreading his entrance open with two fingers. "Come inside," he says.

"I'm an omega!" Kaveh protests.

"You've got a dick, haven't you? A pretty good size, too."

Kaveh flattens his mouth into an unhappy line. "I don't know how," he says.

"If those alphas can figure it out, surely you can. You are intelligent."

... How come, even though he's just been complimented twice, Kaveh isn't happy at all?

"Fine, then... then..." Kaveh attempts to shove Alhaitham down. Surprisingly, Alhaitham slides down willingly enough. After some thought, Kaveh shoves a cushion under his hips and settles between those ridiculously long legs.

"You're taking ages," Alhaitham says.

"Shut up," Kaveh says, throwing the blanket at him. Surprisingly, Alhaitham takes it. He even sniffs at it, rubbing nose and cheeks against fabric. "Ngh," Kaveh says. Then he looks down, trying to see what he's working with.

"It's not complicated," Alhaitham points out, as the silence drags.

"Then you try!"

"Later," Alhaitham says.

... It wouldn't feel good even if you did, is what Kaveh wants to say, but then he pictures Alhaitham over him, fucking into him with his cute little dick. "You better," he says instead. He grips himself in hand.

It's not like he's never played with this part of himself, but he's usually fisting it with his hand or rubbing at it while someone else has a go at him—or while he's having a go at himself. His entrance has always been the main event when it comes to his own pleasure. It's dripping even now, slicking up the skin between his thighs, wetting the crease of his ass.

He regards his own penis like it's a foreign thing. It's hard and leaking. A pretty good size, as Alhaitham had said. Kaveh, driven more by curiosity than true want, presses the tip to Alhaitham's entrance and there, pauses to take in the sight.

Alhaitham, spread out underneath him, the crown of his dick kissing that lovely hole. Kaveh feels overcome. He understands, a little bit, the feelings of those alphas that play at being domineering and possessive. If he had an omega like Alhaitham, he'd want to keep him too. Kaveh would build him a house to hide him in, where no one else could see.

"I'm... I'm coming in," he says, voice querulous.

"Hurry up," is Alhaitham's response. He's got that quality to his voice that says he's ready to go again, his heat clearly rousing him up.

"Yeah," Kaveh says, "yeah, ok, here I go." And he pushes in. The movement is alien, the sensation foreign. Alhaitham's hot, slick walls surround him, greedily sucking him in. Kaveh's eyes squeeze shut. It feels weird.

It feels good.

He moves his hips back, then forward. Alhaitham makes a noise below him. Kaveh licks his lips, looking down.

He grips the globes of Alhaitham's ass. Alhaitham is an omega with a shape to envy: Broad shoulders, thick pecs, a flexible waist, and a generous butt. Not that Kaveh's ever paid attention. He massages the flesh underneath him, then grasps Alhaitham's hips so he can move him as he wishes.

Throwing around that claymore comes in handy now: He's got the strength to force Alhaitham on his dick every time he thrusts forward. Every thrust is accompanied by a vivid smack.

"You—!" Alhaitham protests. Too bad. He already got to cum. Now it's Kaveh's turn.

Alhaitham's so tight. So good. And he lets out a grunt at every thrust. He's half-suspended on the sofa, Kaveh's hands a vice on his hips, being used completely for Kaveh's pleasure.

Kaveh climbs and climbs and climbs towards the peak and fuck, it's good, it's so good.

It's so good, but—

Kaveh can't come.

He can't come. That mountaintop is just within reach but he can't quite get there. But he's so close that tears of frustration leak out of his eyes. If he can just... if he can just—

He releases one hand from Alhaitham and reaches back, pushing inside himself. And then he faces a dilemma.

He can fuck himself, or he can fuck Alhaitham, but he can't quite manage both.

He tries, vainly, for a while. Then he gives up. It's no good, and he wants to come now. Kaveh starts retreating from Alhaitham, meaning to just finger himself to completion, and—

—Alhaitham locks him in place with his legs.

"Haitham," he cries, "No, let go, I wanna come—!"

"Keep fucking me," Alhaitham says, tone bland.

"Fuck you!"

"Yes," Alhaitham agrees. "Fuck me."

"No," Kaveh snarls, aware he's crying and at once mortified. But he wants so badly to come. "No, I can't—you, you fuck me," he bursts out, desperate, "then I can, I can—"

"No," Alhaitham says, and something in his tone makes Kaveh's gaze snap to his.

"You can come," Alhaitham says, "from fucking me."

"I—" Kaveh gasps. But he finds his hips moving, almost of their own accord.

"Yes," Alhaitham says, "just—like that." He reaches out. At first, Kaveh thinks he's being drawn down for a kiss, but instead Alhaitham presses their foreheads together.

His eyes are like alexandrite, at once green like emeralds, at once red like rubies. His expression is—unrecognisable. Kaveh's mouth drops open in frantic wheezes, a regular rhythm of hah, hah, hah at every thrust Alhaitham's stare commands out of him.

"There, see," Alhaitham says. "You're close, aren't you?"

"I—I'm close," Kaveh pants.

"So come," Alhaitham says.

They're fucking. They're fucking, the spacious living room full of the nasty smacks of flesh meeting flesh. And yet, despite the obscene sensation of Alhaitham's ass clenched around Kaveh's penis, it occurs to him that Alhaitham's expression is oddly—

Affectionate. Almost tender.

Kaveh comes. His dick shoots liquidy blanks into Alhaitham. He keeps his eyes open, staring into Alhaitham, and Alhaitham...

... Fucking smiles, actually smiles, and kisses him.

Licks him open, pushing in with an insistent tongue, and Kaveh, shuddering, submits.

The world narrows to just the two of them, to the vivid heat where they're connected at mouth and groin, Kaveh's dick inside Alhaitham and Alhaitham's tongue inside Kaveh's mouth.

When they part, a line of spit connecting lips, Kaveh says, "You just bullied me into an orgasm!"

"What a shame," Alhaitham says. He licks his lips.

"Exactly! You ass!"

"No, I meant, what a shame, you were so good for me until you started talking." He lies back onto the sofa cushion.

Kaveh blinks down at him. His eyes narrow. "Why do I have to be good for you?"

"... Don't worry about it," Alhaitham says, in that tone he uses when he can't be bothered to explain. Not because Kaveh wouldn't understand, but because Alhaitham just can't be fucking bothered. But Kaveh, too mellow from the pleasant afterglow, decides for once not to chase after an argument. He lets himself collapse onto Alhaitham, ignoring the other's annoyed huff.

"If you want to come again, you do the work this time," he says.

"Fine," Alhaitham says, "let me fuck you in a bit," hips rolling lazily in that way that says he's definitely still turned on but not about to do anything about it soon.

For some reason, his expression makes Kaveh blush in embarrassment. He doesn't let himself think on it, and turns his head, breathing in their intermingled scents in the air, and finally agrees, almost shy: "Yeah, okay."