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Chapter Text

Kaveh hums cheerily to himself as he steps inside the house and locks the door, muting the evening sounds of birdsong and wind-rustled leaves. “I’m home!” he calls, looping his keys onto the wall hook. 

“I can see that,” replies a measured voice. 

A delicious thrill flutters in Kaveh’s stomach, and he takes a few steps toward the living room, feeling the cold weight of Alhaitham’s gaze from where he sits on the couch with a book in hand. “Hm. Well, that’s rather unwelcoming. Was work alright today? Or did you actually have to be in your office and do your job for once?”

He forces himself to speak slowly, trying not to fidget with excitement as he asks the question—because he knows that work isn’t the issue. No, Kaveh knows exactly why Alhaitham is looking at him so sternly, and has been waiting all week for Alhaitham to finally bring it up.

“Work was fine,” Alhaitham says. He crosses his legs, resting one ankle on his knee, and lowers his book slightly. “I stopped by Lambad’s earlier.”

There it is.

“Oh? That’s nice,” Kaveh says. He casually removes his cape and tosses it onto the bench by the front door. “How’s Lambad doing? Was the meal to your satisfaction?”

Alhaitham snaps his book shut, and the sound cracks against Kaveh’s ears, sending another shiver through him. “He asked me if I wanted to pay my tab.”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Kaveh says breezily. “He runs a business, after all. It’s important for his customers to pay him.” 

“I agree,” Alhaitham says, setting his book on the coffee table. As he does, Kaveh realizes that there are four small piles of coins lined up neatly along the edge. “Except I haven’t been his customer since last week.” 

“Since last week?” Kaveh echoes. “My, Alhaitham. You really kept him waiting that long for—”

“Kaveh.” 

Kaveh shuts his mouth, lips pressed tightly together.

“I paid last week’s tab already,” Alhaitham says, “and gave you clear instructions not to run up a new tab this week. Do you recall that conversation?” Kaveh nods. “Then describe for me the terms of that agreement, Kaveh.” 

“You gave me an allowance for my trips to the tavern this week and told me to show you my leftover change after each visit, to prove that I hadn’t overspent and started a tab.” 

“And what did you do after every one of your trips to the tavern this week?”

Kaveh wets his lips. “Ah…”

Alhaitham gestures to the piles of coins. “What are these, Kaveh?”

“They appear to be piles of coins.”

“Where are those piles from, Kaveh?”

“Well, I assume they were minted in Liyue—”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says sharply, and Kaveh stiffens. “Who gave me these piles of coins?”

Kaveh has no clever response to that—so he averts his eyes and remains silent. 

“It’s astounding,” Alhaitham says, “that despite being so bright, you apparently believe that a fact will cease to exist if you merely refuse to acknowledge it. Alright, then. I’ll state the facts: We agreed that you wouldn’t spend any more than your allowance at the tavern each day. If you came home having spent less than that allowance, I would give you a reward. If you spent all of it and started a tab, I would punish you. Each day this week, you presented me with one of these piles as proof that you spent less than your allowance, and I gave you a reward like I promised to.” 

Oh, he certainly did. Kaveh quite enjoyed receiving a blowjob that first night, and sitting on Alhaitham’s face to have his ass eaten the following night, and fucking Alhaitham on his hands and knees the night after that. He especially liked the erotic massage Alhaitham gave him yesterday evening, as a reward for behaving four days in a row—which he liked for the obvious reason that Alhaitham is incredibly skilled with his hands, and for a much less innocent reason, too: the delightfully perplexed look on Alhaitham’s face as he slicked his hands with oil, regarding Kaveh with clear suspicion. They both knew that the point of this arrangement was for Kaveh to receive rewards and punishments, so when Kaveh successfully evaded punishment a fourth time, it must have been obvious to Alhaitham that something was amiss. Faced with such solid evidence of Kaveh’s good behavior, though, Alhaitham had no choice but to set aside his misgivings and provide the promised reward. 

It was an excellent massage, ending with a fantastic handjob—and what made it even better was that Kaveh absolutely hadn’t earned it. He’d cheated, and he knew that when Alhaitham eventually figured that out, every minute of undeserved pleasure would be paid back with equally delicious pain. 

“And yet,” Alhaitham continues, “today Lambad informed me that you started a tab on the first day of this week, and have added to that tab every day since.”

Oh, Alhaitham knows what happened, now. He definitely knows. He’s smart, after all, and it’s not as if Kaveh’s deception was that sophisticated. Alhaitham likely would have learned the truth much sooner if he hadn’t been giving Kaveh the benefit of the doubt. “Hm,” Kaveh says, fighting to keep a smirk off his face. “Well, that certainly seems to contradict the physical evidence in front of us…”

“After I got over my momentary surprise, of course, I realized what you must have done. You purposely reserved some of your allowance each night, and prematurely started a tab even though you still had money. When you brought that ‘remainder’ home, I erroneously believed that you hadn’t overspent, when you were in fact spending double or triple the amount I gave you.”

Kaveh’s lips curve in a smile. Alhaitham is right—that’s precisely what he did. Of course, he’d thought that Alhaitham would stop by Lambad’s Tavern and learn the truth much sooner; he never expected that it would take until the end of the week for his deception to be discovered, by which point he’d have conned Alhaitham into giving him four undeserved rewards.

(He’d figured he might get away with it for two days, at most. Then Alhaitham would realize what was going on, and he’d give Kaveh a harsher punishment to make up for the unearned reward from the previous night—after which Kaveh would promise to be a good boy and earn his two remaining rewards by actually obeying the rules.)

“I’m sure you’re quite pleased with yourself,” Alhaitham says. “That was very clever, after all.”

Kaveh is, indeed, incredibly pleased with himself. He’s been alight with anticipation every night this week, wondering whether he’d receive pleasure or pain and when exactly his wrongdoing would be revealed. Based on how the arrangement was originally conceived, the only uncertainty should have been what specific way Alhaitham would decide to reward or punish Kaveh, since the terms made it easy to predict which outcome Kaveh’s spending would produce—but Kaveh had engineered an additional kind of uncertainty with his trick, making even the question of “punishment or reward” an unanswerable one. 

He knows better than to shamelessly gloat, though. Acting proud of his transgression will only increase Alhaitham’s motivation to punish him. 

Actually, wait—that sounds fun. Kaveh wants to see how Alhaitham will react to some unrepentant boasting. “Extremely clever,” Kaveh says. “And it’s nice to see you overcome your enormous ego and admit that I got the better of you, for once. Of course, it certainly helped that you made such a silly mistake by waiting until the end of the week to finally visit the tavern. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to let me get four whole rewards that way, all while eating and drinking my fill! Ha, and not a single one of those things can be refunded. You can’t unsuck my cock or unfuck your ass, nor can you take back the food I’ve eaten and the wine I’ve pissed out. Nothing you do can change the fact that I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted. And that’s largely due to my ingenuity, yes, but I have my darling junior to thank as well. I couldn’t have succeeded to this extent if you hadn’t been so unbelievably witless.”

Alhaitham stares at him silently for a long moment, showing no reaction to the impertinence. “Take off your trousers and underwear.” 

Kaveh feels a rush of giddiness at the command. He’d wondered if those insults would be enough to make Alhaitham storm across the room and put him in his place—but there’s something even more arousing about the way Alhaitham commands him from far away, his voice so intimidatingly calm. 

Kaveh first removes his shoes, then undoes his belt and shoves his trousers and underwear down his legs, quickly stepping out of them. He instinctively begins to fold up the clothes, but Alhaitham’s voice interrupts. “Drop them. Don’t bother.” 

Instantly, Kaveh lets the pile of clothes fall to the ground. He’s taut with arousal between his legs, now, his pulse thumping quickly in his ears as he waits for Alhaitham’s next order. 

“On my lap,” Alhaitham says. “Face down.” 

That’s exactly what Kaveh was hoping he’d say. 

Dick throbbing, he crosses the room and circles the coffee table to reach the couch. This is barely a punishment, really, when getting spanked by Alhaitham always feels so good: the way Alhaitham takes his time with each strike, the precise collision of palm against flesh, the pulse of arousal from each quiver of muscle and fat. 

As Kaveh lowers himself onto the couch, Alhaitham doesn’t yank him onto his lap or snap at him to hurry up; he just sits silently with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for Kaveh to assume the proper position. The hem of Kaveh’s shirt rides up as he stretches out his legs and shifts to rest his hips on Alhaitham’s thighs, leaving him perfectly helpless and exposed. 

The moment Kaveh’s hips settle into place, Alhaitham’s palm cracks against his bare ass, loud and painful. “Count,” Alhaitham says sharply, and then he begins spanking Kaveh at a rapid pace, leaving Kaveh’s tongue to stumble after him. 

Alhaitham’s tempo is steady, but Kaveh had expected him to go more slowly, or at least offer some sort of preamble first. He hadn’t expected an instant assault on his ass without any warning or warmup. 

Alhaitham suddenly pauses, and Kaveh’s shaky breath rattles in the abrupt silence. “Your count is behind,” Alhaitham says. “Start over.” 

He resumes spanking Kaveh’s ass, and Kaveh nearly sobs at the relentless pace—but he manages to count properly, this time. 

Fuck, there’s no reprieve. There’s none of Alhaitham’s usual indulgence. Just a brutal barrage of strikes from an indifferent hand, one that doesn’t care if Kaveh winces or whimpers. 

Which he does, because it fucking hurts, worse than any spanking he’s ever received. Kaveh’s head spins from the onslaught of pain, pain, pain, with only a minuscule bit of pleasure buried somewhere he can’t see.

Alhaitham’s hand halts, and Kaveh’s ass and thighs ache in its absence; this is the part where he feels the full brunt of the pain, his skin burning hot now that there’s nothing else to focus on. Kaveh squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath, wondering if Alhaitham is actually done.

THWACK.

Kaveh lets out a cry as Alhaitham begins striking his ass with a paddle instead, its slim weight stinging his skin. 

“Count,” Alhaitham says, his voice edged with anger. Kaveh spasms and begins counting again, starting with one—and Alhaitham stops immediately, pressing the handle between the curves of Kaveh’s ass. “Why did you start over? Start where you left off.” He pushes the tip against Kaveh’s hole, just barely dipping past the rim. “Bragging about your genius, when you can’t even count properly. Foolish.” 

Alhaitham presses a bit harder, enough that Kaveh’s hole begins to yield for the handle—and Kaveh feels a sick thrill of arousal at the thought of Alhaitham forcing it deeper, abusing Kaveh’s ass with the wrong end. A single tear slips from his eye, and he shudders.

“This next strike is the number you stopped on, plus one,” Alhaitham tells him. “Can you handle that math? Or do you need to count back up from zero?”

The handle retreats from Kaveh’s ass, and Alhaitham raps the narrow stick against his thigh. Kaveh counts with the correct number this time, his voice wobbling as he chokes out the word. 

“Don’t clench,” Alhaitham says, wedging his thumb into the cleft of Kaveh’s ass. “Or else you know what’s going in here. What’s your color?” 

“Green,” Kaveh gasps.

Alhaitham resumes the paddling, and Kaveh tries not to wail. It’s torture to make himself untense when his body instinctively wants to flee from the pain—and although Alhaitham’s pace has slowed, it’s nowhere near merciful enough for Kaveh to properly relax. 

After several more strikes, Alhaitham pauses. “Take deep breaths,” he says. “You can count silently when you inhale.” 

Fuck. No wonder Kaveh is struggling so much—he can barely get air into his lungs when he’s counting that fast. 

Alhaitham lets Kaveh to take three full breaths, and then he reunites the paddle with Kaveh’s ass, pushing the count wickedly high.

The deeper breaths lull Kaveh into something of a trance, albeit a restless one; his mind grows fuzzier with each strike, wrapped in a cottony haze that softens the blows a bit. The spanking hurts, but he can bear it. This is what he deserves for playing that trick. This pain is earned. 

He almost doesn’t realize when Alhaitham stops hitting him. After several minutes of punishment, the pain echoes vividly in Kaveh’s body, and he squeezes his eyes shut in a wince, unable to escape a sensation that’s produced by his own nerves rather than Alhaitham’s hand. 

“Good,” Alhaitham says, petting the small of Kaveh’s back. Kaveh whimpers and sniffles loudly, still not entirely certain that the paddling is over. “You took your punishment well.”

Oh, thank god. Alhaitham is done. Kaveh survived.

Kaveh’s endurance gives out, and he comes hurtling down from the high, hiccupping and trembling on Alhaitham’s lap. 

“Come here.” Alhaitham slips an arm beneath Kaveh’s stomach, and Kaveh sluggishly helps Alhaitham maneuver him into an upright position, kneeling sideways on Alhaitham’s thighs so that his ass is mostly spared from physical contact. “It’s alright. You can relax now. I’ll grab the lotion in a minute.” 

Kaveh clings to Alhaitham, feeling the tension drain from his body as Alhaitham strokes his hair and murmurs reassurances. His touch is slow and delicate, and his voice is gentle, so full of warmth; Kaveh feels safe from the sudden intensity that startled him when Alhaitham’s first strike landed, and nearly starts to doze off in Alhaitham’s arms. 

“You did very well,” Alhaitham murmurs, kissing Kaveh’s hair. “I didn’t want to punish you, but your behavior required correction.” 

Kaveh sniffs and burrows against Alhaitham’s chest. “I know,” he mumbles. And he knows that Alhaitham needs this embrace right now, too—because Alhaitham has never particularly loved hurting Kaveh during sex, and only does it when Kaveh specifically asks him to. 

And although Alhaitham does enjoy the act of spanking Kaveh, he’s never done it in such an unrelenting, ruthless manner. Normally Kaveh gets to enjoy each strike, savoring how it reverberates through his thighs, ass, and cock, accompanying the pain with pulses of pleasure…but this time it was so fast that all Kaveh could process was the pain. 

Eventually, Alhaitham pats Kaveh’s back and says, “Lie down on the couch. I’ll get the lotion.” 

Kaveh presses a clumsy kiss to the corner of Alhaitham’s mouth, then climbs off his lap and stretches out on the couch. With his head pillowed on folded arms, he watches as Alhaitham reaches into a box under the coffee table and retrieves the jar of lotion. 

Ugh. That must be where he was hiding the paddle, too. Kaveh hadn’t even noticed.

Alhaitham unscrews the lid of the jar, and a faint herbal scent wafts into the air. Setting the jar on the coffee table, Alhaitham dips his fingers in the lotion and dabs it onto Kaveh’s inflamed skin. 

Kaveh groans in relief. Alhaitham’s hands tenderly rub the lotion into his ass and thighs, pleasantly cool, and almost instantly Kaveh’s aches feel soothed, the sharp sting of pain finally dulled.

(His ass still fucking hurts, of course. But it hurts a bit less.) 

“Thank you,” Kaveh mumbles, his eyes drifting shut.

“You’re welcome,” Alhaitham says. 

He continues to knead and massage Kaveh’s muscles even after the lotion has soaked in, providing Kaveh with some additional relief. Then Alhaitham’s hands are replaced by his lips, pressing light kisses around Kaveh’s ass and thighs—and Kaveh can’t help but arch his back slightly, wishing that Alhaitham would use his mouth another way. 

Alhaitham’s voice hums with a quiet laugh, and he blows a playful puff of air onto Kaveh’s ass. “Not a chance,” he says. “If you want my tongue or anything else in your ass, you’ll have to earn it. And thanks to that stunt you pulled, you’re currently in the red.”

His mouth and hands disappear from Kaveh’s skin, and Kaveh hears him twisting the lid back onto the jar. “Ugh,” Kaveh says. “And you painted my ass red to match, I see. That’s without a doubt the worst spanking you’ve ever given me.” He sighs. “I suppose it’s to be expected, though. When I decided to play that trick, I knew I’d eventually get a punishment that suited the crime.”

Kaveh glances up at Alhaitham with a winsome smile, expecting an eye-roll or a retort—but Alhaitham just stares back at him flatly, his mouth in a straight line. “Hm.”

Kaveh’s brow scrunches in confusion. “What is it?”

“You thought that was the punishment for the trick you played? Interesting.”

“Huh? Well, of course I…” Alhaitham’s eyebrows arch expectantly, and Kaveh’s mouth falls open. “Don’t tell me you’re punishing me for all four nights!”

“I thought that went without saying. We agreed that I’d punish you once for every night you overspent, and you overspent four times—therefore, you’ve earned four punishments.” 

Then—Kaveh has to endure three more punishments like this? Oh, no. “And that was just one of them,” Kaveh mutters to himself, staring in dismay at the paddle sitting on the coffee table.

“No. Not one.” 

Kaveh’s despairing mood brightens, and he eagerly pushes himself up with his arms, looking at Alhaitham hopefully. “So, that counted as two? The spanking by hand, and the paddle?” 

“Try again.”

What? If it doesn’t count as one punishment, and it doesn’t count as two—and there’s no way it could count as three punishments, much less all four… 

“Wait, it doesn’t count at all?” Kaveh exclaims. “What—then what the fuck was that even for, Alhaitham—you—!”

“I expected it to be obvious,” Alhaitham says, “but since you’re apparently struggling to understand the basic principle of causality, allow me to help: that spanking was punishment for you mouthing off at me when you boasted about your cleverness.”

Kaveh stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief. That savage spanking was just for his spontaneous mouthiness?!

“Although,” Alhaitham adds, “I did hit you once for every coin on this table, so I suppose it was a punishment for the subject of your bragging, as well.” 

Oh, so that’s how Alhaitham arrived at such an absurd number: by basing it on Kaveh’s actions, thus making Kaveh the one who was technically responsible for that ridiculous amount of spanking.

Fuck Alhaitham. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

Of course, Kaveh can repeat that thought as many times as he wants, but the fact remains that it’s Kaveh, not Alhaitham, who is extremely fucked. 

“Heh.” Alhaitham smirks, and Kaveh lets his face fall against the couch with a groan. “My ingenious architect…” Alhaitham suddenly taps a finger against Kaveh’s ass, and Kaveh jolts with surprise. “Should be properly compensated for his extreme cleverness…” He trails that finger all the way up to Kaveh’s neck, and then his hand lightly grasps Kaveh’s nape. “With punishments of the same caliber, don’t you think?”

“I’m not smart,” Kaveh says into the couch. “I’m a fool. An absolute fool.”

“Is that your way of arguing for a lesser punishment? Unfortunately, even if you somehow convinced me to agree with something so blatantly untrue, it wouldn’t make a difference. Our agreement dictates that you’ve earned four punishments, so that’s how many you’ll receive.” Alhaitham gives Kaveh’s back a decidedly unsympathetic pat. “And for the record, it would be virtually impossible to make me agree. I’m firmly of the belief that my senior is quite ingenious—it’s ingrained in my mind from all the times I’ve questioned his wisdom and then been punished for my disrespect.”

Kaveh groans again. “Are you done punishing me for tonight, at least?”

“Yes. Your first punishment starts tomorrow morning.”

“Can we go back to cuddling, then?”

“We can, yes,” Alhaitham says, sounding amused. “I’ll get you a glass of water first, though. Or would you prefer tea?”

“Water’s fine. We can have tea after dinner, maybe.” 

A few minutes later—once Kaveh has finished his glass of water and assured Alhaitham no less than three times that yes, he really is fine—the two of them arrange themselves to lounge on the couch together, with Kaveh lying on his stomach atop Alhaitham.

“Did you plan that trick from the start?” Alhaitham asks, tucking a strand of hair behind Kaveh’s ear. 

“No, actually,” Kaveh says. “I didn’t think of it until I was almost out of my allowance the first night, and realized that ordering another ajilenakh cake would just barely require me to start a tab. Then inspiration struck.” He sighs. “I really thought you’d find out by the following day. I didn’t expect you to stay away from Lambad’s all week.”

Alhaitham snorts. “I thought I could trust my senior to tell the truth, since he’s always going on about setting a good example for his unruly junior. I didn’t expect him to be such a terrible role model.”

“Oh, please. Every junior should know that when it comes to their seniors, the governing principle is do as I say, not as I do.”

“Hm.” Alhaitham pokes Kaveh’s cheek. “Is that so? But this weekend, the senior will be doing whatever his junior tells him to.” 

“Ugh, and I’ll be worse off for it,” Kaveh mutters.

Alhaitham barks out a laugh. “Consider it a lesson in the importance of putting your money where your mouth is.”

“Mm…” Kaveh snuggles against Alhaitham’s chest. “Is that always the best idea, though? My mouth spends quite a bit of time on your ass, Alhaitham, and I don’t think it would be sanitary to put mora down there.” 

“Tch. I wouldn’t put it past you, considering the other things you’ve inserted.”

“Your logic is flawed,” Kaveh declares, though he knows Alhaitham was only joking. “A coin doesn’t have a flared base, which would make it unsafe for insertion, obviously. Ginger root, however—which I assume is the ‘other thing’ you’re referring to—can quite easily be carved into a flared shape, meaning that there’s absolutely no reason I shouldn’t insert that into your ass.”

“No reason? What about the fact that it hurts?”

Kaveh tilts his head to peer up at Alhaitham, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “If anything, that’s a reason I should insert it.” 

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “You’re concerningly fond of torturing me, for someone who constantly calls me his ‘dear junior’ and ‘sweet pet’. I’m beginning to think that I can trust neither your actions nor your words, senior.”

Kaveh clears his throat and glances away. “Ah, well…”

Alhaitham shakes with a silent laugh, and Kaveh settles his cheek on Alhaitham’s chest with a humph. His eyelids grow heavy as Alhaitham’s hand rubs up and down his back in a soothing rhythm, lulling him toward sleep in spite of the unabating ache in his ass. 

“You know that despite these punishments,” Alhaitham says, “I’m not actually upset with you.”

“I know,” Kaveh says. “You’re a good actor, but yes, I know.”  

“And you know that I’m always happy to spend my money on you.”

Kaveh glances up at Alhaitham with a fond smile. “I know that, too.” He’s utterly spoiled by Alhaitham, really; it would be impossible for him not to know.

Alhaitham returns Kaveh’s smile with one of his own, subtle yet unmistakable. “Good,” he says, then presses a soft, sweet kiss to Kaveh’s lips. “Now, as for your actual punishments…”

Kaveh groans. 

“Originally,” Alhaitham says, “I had planned different penalties with varying degrees of severity, to be administered depending on how much you overspent and your total number of infractions. Given that you exceeded your allowance all four nights—and by an enormous margin each time—I suppose I’ll just select the worst of those punishments, to match the magnitude of your misbehavior.”

“And I don’t suppose you can tell me ahead of time what these ‘worst’ punishments will be?”

“I can, in the sense that I’m physically capable of telling you, and there’s no external force preventing me,” Alhaitham says. “But I don’t intend to reveal every detail right this moment, no.” 

Kaveh sighs. Of course he doesn’t. Alhaitham loves his secret schemes, after all, even if he insists that he’s not the sort of person to take pleasure in other people’s confoundment. (He’s telling the truth, for the most part—it’s just not the truth when it comes to Kaveh, who Alhaitham quite enjoys teasing.)

“However,” Alhaitham adds, “I do want to discuss my plans in a general sense. When we initially arranged this game, you mentioned that you wanted me to be ‘meaner than usual’ with my punishments. I believe I’ve devised some punishments that can fulfill this request—but since they go beyond my usual approach to discipline, we’ll need to clarify some things in advance. While everything I’m planning is within the limits we agreed on, you might not be expecting my specific execution of certain things. An element of surprise is fine, but I don’t want to catch you completely off-guard.”

Kaveh hums in agreement. He does enjoy a sense of spontaneity whenever he submits to Alhaitham; planning every detail ahead of time feels too much like the painstaking thoroughness he practices in his life outside the bedroom, which is the very thing he wants to escape from by ceding control to his partner. At the same time, he knows that Alhaitham needs to warn him about certain things beforehand for safety’s sake.

“After dinner,” Alhaitham says, “I’ll have you review the list with me again, to clarify your limits and level of comfort regarding certain things. That doesn’t mean I’ll do everything on the list, but I need to make sure you’re prepared for all possibilities.”

Kaveh nods. “Of course.” 

“And for your first punishment: tomorrow, starting when you get up in the morning and lasting until lunchtime, you’ll have to ask me for permission to do anything—and anything you do, you’ll be required to do it in the manner I tell you to.” 

Kaveh feels a thrill at the thought—like loose ropes encircling his body, with the anticipation of knowing that those bindings will soon be pulled tight, squeezing and securing him. He’ll be completely under Alhaitham’s thumb tomorrow, and Alhaitham will likely do his best to make him regret it—but that will be difficult to do, because this is the exact sort of submission that Kaveh has been craving. 

“Obviously,” Alhaitham adds, “if I ask you to do something that legitimately makes you uncomfortable—beyond the desired feeling of humiliation, that is—I expect that you’ll safeword and let me know. It’s not impossible that in attempting to be ‘meaner’ to you, I may miscalculate and produce an undesired result.” Alhaitham’s hand trails down to Kaveh’s waist and gives it a light squeeze. “Understood?” 

“Understood.” Kaveh snakes an arm around Alhaitham’s neck and pulls him into a languid kiss, flicking his tongue against Alhaitham’s lips. “Mm…”

Once the kiss ends, Alhaitham asks, “What was that for?”

“You put a lot of thought into this for me,” Kaveh says. “I appreciate it.”

The corners of Alhaitham’s mouth curve upward, creasing his eyes with affection. “We’ll see if you still feel appreciative by the end of this.”

Kaveh pecks his jaw. “You know I will.”

“I also know that you’ll silently curse my name at least a dozen times, wishing that you could say it out loud.”

“That also sounds quite plausible, yes.”

The two of them slip into another kiss, with quiet hums and caressing faces—and then Alhaitham pauses, pressing a finger to Kaveh’s lips. “Oh, one more thing,” he says. “You aren’t allowed to come until you’re done taking all four punishments.”

Kaveh’s eyes go wide. “Wh—all four?!”

“Starting tonight,” Alhaitham says, looking extremely entertained by Kaveh’s outrage. “It’s only fair, isn’t it? Four orgasms denied, to make up for the four you didn’t deserve.” He cups Kaveh’s face in his hands, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. “Actually, since you’re accepting these terms so graciously, senior, I’ll count tonight as your first one. That means you can come right at the end of your fourth punishment. Quite nice of me, don’t you agree?”

Jaw clenched, cheeks puffed indignantly, Kaveh silently curses Alhaitham’s name.  

Chapter Text

Kaveh wakes with excitement buzzing in his veins, even though he knows he’ll have five or ten reasons to hate Alhaitham by the end of the day. 

(Actually, he’ll probably have that many by the time he sits down for breakfast. Since this is a punishment, Kaveh assumes that Alhaitham will go out of his way to be as infuriating as possible.)

When the two of them reviewed Alhaitham’s list last night, Kaveh had tried to get a read on him and predict which punishments he’d be employing—but Alhaitham had been equally thorough with every item on the list, his voice and expression completely neutral the whole time. The way he spoke, everything on that list seemed equally plausible. 

As of now, all Kaveh knows for certain is this: he requires Alhaitham’s permission before he’s allowed to do anything this morning—including using the bathroom—and since Alhaitham is currently preparing breakfast, he’s left a note on the nightstand with some preliminary instructions for Kaveh to follow. 

Yawning, Kaveh stretches his arms above his head and hums as the tension in his spine relaxes. Of course, no amount of stretching will relieve the persistent ache in his ass, but at least Alhaitham assured him that none of his other punishments will involve impact play. Kaveh’s body definitely needs a few days to recover. 

Kaveh sighs and grabs the note off the nightstand, bracing himself for whatever ridiculousness it undoubtedly contains. 

Senior Kaveh,

Because you’ve demonstrated such poor judgment with your terrible spending habits, you’ll be relying on my judgment this morning instead. You ran up an enormous tab without my permission, so until lunchtime, you aren’t allowed to do anything else without obtaining my approval first. Perhaps this will finally make you realize that a senior’s judgment isn’t necessarily superior to his junior’s, especially when that senior has an unfortunate affinity for being a brat.

Kaveh scoffs. As if he’s the only one who acts like a brat. It’s true that he does it more often than Alhaitham, who undeniably favors being an obedient pet—but there have been plenty of times when Alhaitham was all too eager to misbehave, either because he couldn’t resist firing off a clever comeback to something Kaveh said, or because he was dangerously curious about how Kaveh would discipline him for his impudence.

Take the figging, for instance: Alhaitham makes it sound like Kaveh’s punishment was inevitable, when in reality Kaveh provided two very clear warnings before bringing out the ginger root, and even gave his insolent junior a chance to apologize whilst peeling and carving it. Alhaitham did not apologize, and instead bragged that his asshole had a better spice tolerance than Kaveh’s mouth, which, quote: “possesses a weak, dull palate, the kind belonging to a bland Monstadter who complains that pasta bolognese is too spicy. By all means, senior, stick that in my ass. At least then it will actually get used for something, instead of languishing in our pantry.”

But, sure. Kaveh is the bratty one. Alhaitham would never even think of talking back, much less actually mouth off at his poor beleaguered senior. 

Kaveh rolls his eyes.

Once you’ve read this note, you may go to the bathroom and complete your morning routine while I’m making breakfast. I’m not going to punish you by supervising your entire hair and skincare regimen, since I’d just be punishing myself by doing that. 

Oh, come on. Kaveh’s morning routine isn’t that elaborate—Alhaitham is just being overdramatic. The real problem is that Alhaitham’s own routine is woefully minimalistic compared to that of any respectable person. Really, what kind of man just splashes water on his face and runs a comb through his hair before walking out the door?!

When you’re done getting ready, come find me so that I can take a look at your ass. And to clarify: Your morning routine does not include getting dressed. I expect to see you naked when you join me in the kitchen.

Blood rushes to Kaveh’s cock, and he bites his lip, rereading that last line. Being ordered to present himself nude, in the middle of the kitchen, waiting to receive further instructions from Alhaitham…

Fuck, Kaveh wants to touch himself. But Alhaitham hasn’t given him permission to do that, and even if he had, he’s already made it clear that Kaveh isn’t allowed to come until he receives his fourth punishment. Teasing his dick now, with no promise of relief any time soon, would only make the wait worse. 

Kaveh tosses the note onto the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, where he quickly showers and completes his perfectly reasonable morning routine—which only takes a few minutes, because it is perfectly reasonable, and Alhaitham is an unsophisticated ass who lacks an appreciation for self-care.

(There was a time many years ago when Kaveh was even worse than him, too repulsed by his body and depressed by his life to take good care of himself; it wasn’t until he started addressing his physical issues that he finally adopted some semblance of a self-care routine, especially once male adolescence began to wreak havoc on his skin. With puberty underway, it quickly became apparent that Kaveh was not blessed with the same low-maintenance genes as his stupidly handsome junior.)

As Kaveh shakes his hair free from the towel he’s wrapped around it, it occurs to him that getting ready on his own has eliminated a large portion of tasks that he would have needed to ask permission for. He wonders what else Alhaitham has planned for the morning—because surely Alhaitham intends to create situations where Kaveh is helplessly reliant on him, or else this wouldn’t be much of a punishment. 

Completely nude, with only damp curls of hair to cover his bare shoulders, Kaveh steps into the hallway and heads toward the kitchen. The smell of fresh, warm bread hovers in the air, mouthwateringly good, and he almost forgets that he isn’t about to sit down for a relaxing homemade breakfast. 

He shuffles onto the kitchen floor, and the crossing of that threshold—the transition from grooved wood floors to geometric tilework beneath his bare feet—is what makes him feel distinctly exposed. It’s one thing to walk down the hallway naked, which he might do if he forgot to grab clothes or a towel for his shower, but the kitchen…Kaveh should be clothed in the kitchen. There’s no normal reason for him to show up for breakfast completely naked. 

Alhaitham is certainly clothed, in a snug sleeveless shirt that shows off the muscles of his back as he spoons something into a small bowl. Facing away from the doorway and focused on his task, he doesn’t appear to have noticed Kaveh’s arrival. 

Or, more likely than not, he has noticed, and is simply waiting for Kaveh to awkwardly announce his presence. 

Kaveh tentatively knocks on the wooden doorframe. “I, um…finished getting ready.” 

Alhaitham finally turns around, and his sharp eyes rake over Kaveh’s body, searing his skin like sunlight focused through a magnifying glass. “Took you long enough,” he says. “You’d have been done much sooner if I was directing you.”

Ha. Kaveh has trouble believing that, when his routine would have taken even longer if he had to stop and ask Alhaitham for every little thing…unless Alhaitham means that he only would have given Kaveh permission to follow his routine, splashing sink water onto his face like an absolute heathen. 

“You’re slouching,” Alhaitham says. “Stand up straight. Arms at your side.” 

Kaveh rolls back his shoulders and inhales deeply from his diaphragm, knowing that if he doesn’t, Alhaitham will comment on his breathing next. And criticizing his breathing is fine, but as for his posture—well, that’s hardly Kaveh’s fault, really. Between slouching to minimize his chest for years and hunching over blueprints for an even longer time, he hasn’t exactly had much practice standing up straight. 

Alhaitham crosses the kitchen to meet Kaveh by the door, then slides his hand behind Kaveh’s neck and beneath his hair, fingertips ticklishly trailing over his nape. “It seems that you really can’t do anything properly, without my instruction.” Humming, he moves his hand to circle Kaveh’s throat from the front, tilting his jaw upward with his thumb and forefinger pressed to pulse points. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m in charge of you today.”

His grip is light but firm, and that hard opal gaze pins Kaveh in place, weighing his eyelids with an urge to slip under. In moments like this, Kaveh can’t remember how to talk back or disobey; Alhaitham’s touch practically sedates him, numbing his desire to rebel. 

“Let’s see,” Alhaitham says. He runs his hands over Kaveh’s shoulders and squeezes them, then drags them down to his chest, splaying his palms over the firm planes. His fingertips travel lower, connecting the bronze hair on Kaveh’s sternum to the trail of hair on his stomach, and then lower, stroking the trimmed hairs above Kaveh’s cock.

And Kaveh stands completely still as he’s inspected, staring straight ahead at the cupboards while the blood in his body rushes south to accompany Alhaitham’s hands.

Alhaitham’s hands slide outward to grip Kaveh’s waist, and he stops to smooth his thumbs over the jut of each hipbone before kneeling in front of Kaveh, putting his face temptingly close to the place Kaveh knows he won’t touch. 

Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s thighs and pulls himself closer, his nose nearly brushing Kaveh’s groin. He exhales softly, just the slightest puff of warmth, and Kaveh’s dick twitches in response, foolishly begging Alhaitham to take it in his mouth.

Alhaitham’s hands slip back to softly cup Kaveh’s ass, and Kaveh grunts, still sore there. Then one of Alhaitham’s hands briefly disappears, and Kaveh glances down to see Alhaitham sucking on the finger of that hand—and just as Kaveh returns his eyes to the kitchen cupboards, he feels that wet fingertip trail slowly down the shaft of his cock.

Kaveh grits his teeth. It’s barely any stimulation, but it’s more than enough to remind him of what he isn’t allowed to have.

To remind him of the privilege he lost, thanks to taking four orgasms he knew he shouldn’t have been given. 

Alhaitham gets to his feet, and he lifts his hands to hold Kaveh’s face, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. “Such a handsome face,” Alhaitham says. He tugs at Kaveh’s lower lip. “And a pretty mouth, too. It’s unfortunate that you spend so much time misusing it—you’d spare yourself a lot of trouble if you could figure out how to think before you speak.”

Technically speaking, Kaveh did think before he mouthed off to Alhaitham last night—it’s just that unfortunately his thinking went something like Hm, I wonder what would happen if I pissed Alhaitham off!

“I’ll apply more lotion now,” Alhaitham says, stepping back. “Wait here—legs apart, wrists crossed, palms flat against the wall. I’ll be right back.”

Heart thudding in his chest, Kaveh assumes the instructed position and listens to Alhaitham’s footsteps recede from the room. He knows that the application of lotion should be a leisurely affair, but Alhaitham already has him so damn riled up that he can’t relax. When Kaveh is so accustomed to an Alhaitham who eagerly touches him any way he wants, it’s absolutely maddening to suffer this teasing and know that his frustration won’t be relieved any time soon.

Kaveh estimates that his wait lasts less than a minute, during which he mentally composes a very loving rhyme about how he’d like to lock Alhaitham’s cock in an ice-cold box—and right as Kaveh begins to contemplate a second verse, Alhaitham reenters the kitchen in the corner of his eye, presumably with the jar of lotion in hand.

Alhaitham moves to stand behind Kaveh, and a moment later, Kaveh is startled by the sensation of Alhaitham’s lips on his ass, kissing and nipping softly at the skin. Then Alhaitham’s hands begin to rub and massage each cheek, which seems innocuous enough…until Alhaitham’s thumbs dip beneath the curve of Kaveh’s ass, stroking the short hairs around his hole and making his rim flex needily. 

Just when Kaveh is on the verge of mouthing off, Alhaitham ceases his taunting and switches to applying the lotion, his cool palms soothing Kaveh’s skin. “You have a small bruise here,” Alhaitham remarks, prodding a tender spot on Kaveh’s ass. “Did you notice that when you were getting ready?”

Kaveh shivers at the question. Of course he noticed—it was the first thing he did when he looked in the bathroom mirror. He always likes seeing the marks Alhaitham has left on him, whether they’re hickeys on his neck, scratches on his back, bruises on his ass…or even a minor black eye, once, when Alhaitham’s leg slipped while he was folded in half and he accidentally kicked Kaveh in the face. (Kaveh took it as a compliment that he fucked Alhaitham well enough to make him lose his coordination like that, although he definitely prefers compliments that don’t require him to hold an ice pack to his face while his partner contritely sucks him off.)

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” Kaveh breathes. “I—I noticed it.” 

“Did you like it?”

Fuck. Alhaitham knows the answer to that question already—he doesn’t have to ask. “Yes. I liked it.” 

Alhaitham presses more firmly on the bruise, and Kaveh shudders. “So was it still a punishment, if you liked it?”

Kaveh squints at the wall. “I—by the definition of the term…”

“I’ll rephrase the question. Do you consider it to be a punishment, Kaveh?”

“Yes, I—I don’t like being spanked like that, I mean…I just like the mark, it’s…” Kaveh takes a shaky breath. “It’s like you signed your work.”

That’s how Kaveh always feels when he’s on the other end of a punishment, reddening or bruising Alhaitham’s skin—like a poet hiding his name in the final couplet of a love poem, disguising it as an epithet of burgundy and blue. 

Alhaitham’s hands slide up Kaveh’s sides as he stands, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other snakes up his chest. “Very poetic, senior,” he says, his fingers cupping Kaveh’s throat. “What an appealing way of looking at it.”

The placement of his hand invokes another way he could mark Kaveh as his, an accessory he sometimes gives to Kaveh in exchange for complete obedience, and Kaveh’s throat jumps. He’s sorely tempted to make that promise right now, but he knows he isn’t in the mood to keep it. Not yet, anyway. 

Alhaitham unwinds his arms from around Kaveh and rests a hand on his shoulder. “You can relax and turn around now.”

Kaveh turns with his arms hugging his chest, once again aware that his nakedness is horribly out of place. “May I go get dressed?”

“Yes,” Alhaitham says, “with my supervision. Come on.” 

He lightly presses his palm to Kaveh’s back, guiding him out of the kitchen and down the hall. It’s only a faint touch, but combined with the difference between Alhaitham and Kaveh’s attire, it serves as a firm reminder of the control Alhaitham has over him. 

Even once they’re standing in front of Kaveh’s dresser, Alhaitham’s hand remains there—and when Kaveh steps forward and reaches for the top drawer, that same hand immediately grabs his waist to stop him. “What are you doing?” Alhaitham asks. 

Kaveh glances at him in confusion. “I’m…getting clothes?”

“Did you ask for permission to do that?”

“I…when I asked to go get dressed, I thought…”

“Hm. I see the source of your confusion, now. To clarify: when I answered that you could get dressed ‘with my supervision’, I meant that you would need to obtain my permission for anything you want to wear.”

“Oh,” Kaveh says. “Um. May I open the dresser to pick out a pair of underwear and trousers?”

“You can open the dresser, yes.”

Not even a yes to the underwear or trousers. Ugh. Kaveh can already tell that this entire ordeal is going to be utterly aggravating. 

He opens the top drawer where his everyday underwear are folded in tidy rows, but before he can figure out how to phrase his next question, Alhaitham says, “Not that drawer.”

“Uh…which drawer should I open, then?” 

“Why are you asking me? Don’t you trust your own judgment, Kaveh?” 

Kaveh sighs. He trusts his judgment perfectly well, of course; he just doesn’t trust Alhaitham to refrain from being a complete ass. “Can I open the drawer below this one?”

The next drawer is the one with his…fancier undergarments. Not his lingerie bodysuits—which are stored in the wardrobe holding his shirts and formal wear—but the sort of things he probably wouldn’t wear unless he knew that Alhaitham was going to see them. 

“You can open that drawer, yes,” Alhaitham says. 

Alright, maybe Kaveh is on the right track. It makes sense that Alhaitham might want to see him wear something more provocative. Pointing to a pair of tight lace shorts, Kaveh asks, “Can I put these on?”

“No.” 

Kaveh presses his lips together. “Okay. Um…” He points to a black jockstrap, one that Alhaitham has specifically asked him to wear on previous occasions. “Can I wear that?” 

“No.”

Kaveh points to a cerulean thong. “What about that?”

“No.” 

Celestia, what does Alhaitham even want? Kaveh isn’t about to play this guessing game with every damn item in the drawer. “Can I wear underwear today?” he asks, because it’s certainly starting to look like Alhaitham doesn’t intend to give him permission for that. 

“Yes,” Alhaitham says, “you may wear underwear today.” 

“Apparently not just any underwear, though,” Kaveh grumbles. “It seems like you must have something specific in mind—or at least I hope that’s the case, and that you aren’t just unilaterally rejecting my suggestions to annoy me.” He exhales heavily. “Could you please show me which specific underwear I’m allowed to wear? I’m submitting to the judgment of my dear junior on the matter.” 

In response, Alhaitham silently reaches for the second-to-last drawer, which stores Kaveh’s exercise clothes alongside a few odds and ends. Perplexed, Kaveh watches Alhaitham pull open the drawer and—

Kaveh bites back a curse and stares, utterly aghast, at the foreign monstrosity sitting in his dresser drawer.

“Hm?” Alhaitham says. “What’s the matter?” 

“What—what the—” Kaveh splutters, desperately resisting the urge to cuss at Alhaitham. “Alhaitham, what is that—that…”

He has no words. He truly has no words for the heinous thing lounging on top of his leggings. It looks like…like the result of a whirling electro fungus spinning itself around a field of sumpter beast shit. Or a cell-culture dish growing some disgusting cocktail of fuzzy, toxic mold. Or—

“I believe that style of underwear is a thong,” Alhaitham says. “Likely one designed for a man, judging by the size and shape of the fabric pouch in front.”

That—that is not a thong. A thong is a type of underwear, the primary purpose of which is to be worn—and there is not a single human in Teyvat who would ever wear this…this…

Where should Kaveh even start? It’s as if someone went out of their way to make this the least harmonious, most hideous piece of clothing possible. The problem isn’t just that every element on its own is horrendous—it’s that each of those dreadful elements also combines in the worst way possible with the other elements, like an undercooked meal prepared with the worst possible ingredients. 

The pouch of the thong is a garish, nauseous yellow-green, the sort of color that that Kaveh is objectively incapable of wearing well. That pouch is bordered by a thick trim in an equally obnoxious fuchsia, which, unlike many other shades of pink, completely clashes with Kaveh’s skin tone. And as if that weren’t offensive enough, the band of the thong—which isn’t so thin that it’s a string, but is essentially a flimsy ribbon—is a putrid rusty brown that makes the color palette even more abhorrent. 

Oh, and aside from the feculent ribbon—which appears to be satin—the fucking thong is made of crushed velvet. 

Soft, fuzzy, shimmery velvet, shining its sickly foul colors right at Kaveh’s face.

Kaveh’s eyeballs don’t want to cry. They want to vomit. 

For the sake of argument, he pretends to believe Alhaitham’s claim that this invasive species disguising itself as underwear is a thong. “I can see that,” Kaveh says. “But why is it in my drawer?”

“Oh,” Alhaitham says, “I put it there.”

Well, that’s fucking obvious. Even if he was delirious and dying of thirst in the desert, Kaveh would never be insane enough to buy something like this, much less let it contaminate his dresser. “And why is this a thing that exists?” 

He has no idea where Alhaitham even came across the monstrosity. Because this isn’t just a matter of differing tastes—this is a garment so objectively abhorrent that Kaveh can’t imagine any tailor willingly making it, much less selling it to a customer.

“I commissioned it,” Alhaitham answers. 

Kaveh feels faint. “You—you mean you didn’t just buy these in some wretched ‘last chance’ discounted section?!”

“No, certainly not. That velvet is made of high-quality silk.”

“High-quality…” Kaveh pinches his nose, suspecting that he will severely regret his next question. “Alhaitham, how much did these cost?”

“If I recall correctly,” Alhaitham says, “my order cost around…”

And the number he provides is so unreasonable, so obscene, that it takes all of Kaveh’s willpower not to scream. Is Alhaitham going to go toss his entire month’s salary down the Chasm like it’s a wishing well, while he’s at it? Is this really the same man who once told Kaveh that buying a dozen keychains was an atrocious waste of funds?!

For the sake of Kaveh’s sanity, he forces himself to put the absurd expenditure out of his mind, and instead focuses on calculating how much it would cost to buy a year’s supply of ginger for Alhaitham’s ass.

“Well, senior?” Alhaitham says. “Are you impressed with my consideration of aesthetics? I did my best to employ all the lessons you’ve taught me on color theory and design.”

He most certainly did—in the manner of a student studying the Akademiya’s code of conduct with the express purpose of getting expelled. “I have no words,” Kaveh chokes out.

“Hm. That’s probably for the best, since your mouth has a penchant for getting your ass bruised.” There’s a moment of silence while Kaveh continues his mental calculations—how long does ginger keep? can he negotiate a discount if he buys it in bulk?—and then Alhaitham prompts, “Well, Kaveh? You wouldn’t want to waste any more of my money, would you?”

What? God, no. Kaveh isn’t wearing that noxious thing. “Can I just forgo underwear today, please?”

“You already asked if you could wear underwear,” Alhaitham says, “and I said yes. Do you remember the other half of today’s rule? Anything I give you permission to do, you’re required to do it in the manner I tell you to.” 

Oh, god. Then, Kaveh really has to—has to prance around in that…that…

Steeling himself, he reaches toward the drawer to grab the underwear, only for Alhaitham to stop him with a hand on his arm. “What now?” Kaveh groans, looking up at him in exasperation. 

Alhaitham raises his eyebrows expectantly, as if he’s waiting for something, and—oh, fuck him. 

Jaw clenched, Kaveh asks, “May I put on that thong?” 

“You may, yes,” Alhaitham replies. 

Abominable. Inhumane. Forget all the times Kaveh has teased or tormented Alhaitham in bed—Alhaitham is, without a doubt, the truly sadistic one between the two of them. 

Lip curled in disgust, Kaveh grabs the thong by one of its russet ribbons, feeling like he should be wearing gloves to handle it. From what he can tell, he’ll need to tie those strips into bows to secure the underwear; he has another thong that’s worn the same way, conveniently allowing Alhaitham to yank on the ties and strip him instantly.

Something tells Kaveh that Alhaitham won’t be doing that with this pair, though. Alhaitham will almost certainly make sure that Kaveh’s dick remains trapped in its disgusting velvet prison until lunchtime.

(Hm. Imprisoning a dick…now, that’s an idea. Kaveh thinks he should invest in a cage the size of his junior’s junior, for the next time Alhaitham misbehaves.)

“Look,” Alhaitham says, pinching the other ribbon to flip the thong around. 

Ah. Splendid. The small pink triangle of fabric in the back has a heart-shaped cutout. Of course. Naturally.

“Alhaitham,” Kaveh says, slowly, “tell me, did you adopt attempt the forbidden and fear none as your aesthetics philosophy?”

“Oh? Don’t you like it?” 

“I suspect it’s in my best interest to refrain from answering that question.”

“Passing up a teaching moment when you could use this opportunity to enrich your junior’s understanding of artistry? That’s very unlike you.” 

Kaveh heaves a sigh and starts tying one of the ribbons into a bow. “Do you know what the worst part is? It’s the fact that you must actually have a decently strong grasp on aesthetics, in order to have violated every principle so fantastically and created this wretched thing.”

“So you think I did a fantastic job, then?” 

“You—!” Kaveh shoots a glare at Alhaitham, then takes a deep breath and returns to his task. “You…achieved your aesthetic vision very effectively.” 

“High praise, from the light of Kshahrewar.” 

“Ugh.” Having tied both sides, Kaveh steps into the thong and pulls it up to his hips. “Tragic. Even having gained an understanding of beauty, you still have no appreciation for it.”

“I appreciate beautiful things,” Alhaitham says, squeezing Kaveh’s ass pointedly. His thumb presses against the bruise again, and Kaveh sucks in a breath. “I simply show my appreciation in an unorthodox manner, sometimes.”

Before Kaveh can properly reply, he’s distracted by the fit of the thong, uncomfortably loose in the front. Frowning, he reties and repositions the ribbons, but the problem persists. “It’s a bit…” He pinches the fabric of the pouch with a grimace. “Loose.”

“Hm…that wasn’t my intention.” Alhaitham regards the thong with his fist pressed to his lips in thought. “I thought that style would fit more tightly there. In that case, let’s just—”

“No, hold on,” Kaveh says, darting over to his nightstand. He opens the drawer where he stores his prosthetics and pulls out one of the lesser-used ones, a smaller model designed primarily for taking a piss while standing. 

Though Kaveh doesn’t find himself using it often, it’s been convenient during treks in the jungle or desert when a proper toilet isn’t readily available. And there have also been occasions when the prosthetic filled out a pair of trousers or underwear that just didn’t fit right, to ease the discomfort from Kaveh’s mind insisting that the clothes looked off, somehow—a type of wrongness that made him feel a palpable lack-of-something where he usually wouldn’t notice it, nagging at him like a color clashing with an otherwise cohesive palette. 

That’s the feeling that’s beginning to creep up on him, now: the sense of a disconnect between how the clothing should fit and how it does, and the risk of being crushed between those two things should they collide.

After a few moments of finagling, Kaveh manages to fit the prosthetic snugly inside the thong. Between the shape of the pouch in front and the resistance provided by the tied ribbons, it’s actually quite secured. “Ha!” he says. “I suppose the only good thing about this abomination is that it holds a prosthetic like this perfectly.” He turns to Alhaitham, hands on his hips. “Well? How does it look?” 

Alhaitham nods. “The fit seems good.” 

“Oh, what, nothing to say about the color scheme you chose? You don’t think that ‘fluorescent mold’ and ‘sumpter beast shit’ are my best colors?”

“Not at all,” Alhaitham says. He circles around Kaveh and grabs the back of the thong with both hands, tugging upward to rub the string against his hole. “That’s why I chose them, obviously.” 

Kaveh stupidly arches into the touch, craving any stimulation he can get—but that only prompts Alhaitham to let go and give his ass a playful tap.

Ugh. Has it really been less than two days since his last orgasm? Kaveh doesn’t know how he’s going to survive waiting through all these punishments, if Alhaitham keeps teasing him like this. “Can I wear a shirt and trousers?”

“Yes,” Alhaitham says. 

Great. Now Kaveh merely needs to suggest every single item in his wardrobe, with a high likelihood that Alhaitham will reject everything and whip out some hideous outfit that he’s stashed away somewhere…unless Kaveh can just skip straight to that part. “Could you show me which ones you’d like me to wear?”

“Hm? Sure, though I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought you’d defer to my judgment on that.” 

Alhaitham opens one of Kaveh’s drawers and sifts through clothes for a few moments before deciding on a pair of black trousers, then repeats the same process with the wardrobe to select an ivory button-up shirt. His choices are surprisingly inoffensive, especially considering the atrocities he committed in commissioning that thong—though Kaveh can already tell that the combination is going to leave his abdomen partly exposed, because that shirt only works with high-waisted bottoms, and Alhaitham grabbed trousers that sit much lower.

“Can I put those on?” Kaveh asks.

“No,” Alhaitham says.

“But…” Kaveh watches as Alhaitham sets the trousers on the bed and holds the shirt open expectantly. “Oh. Um, can you…dress me?”

“Yes.”

Kaveh stands with his back to Alhaitham and slips his arms into the sleeves, allowing Alhaitham to pull the shirt up onto his shoulders. As Alhaitham reaches around from behind and begins slowly fastening the buttons, Kaveh almost feels a bit like his doll—unable to dress himself, relying on Alhaitham to choose his clothes and do it for him. He feels a throb between his legs at the thought, and takes a deep breath with his eyes closed, willing that arousal to fade. This weekend will be absolutely torturous if he keeps letting himself get turned on so easily. 

Alhaitham leaves the top two buttons undone, then slips his hand beneath the hem of the shirt and splays his palm against Kaveh’s stomach, tugging him backward so that he’s pressed against Alhaitham’s firm chest. His lips trail over Kaveh’s throat with the whisper of a kiss, and Kaveh tilts his head back despite himself, helpless against Alhaitham’s touch. 

Is…is this still part of the punishment? Is the intent to excite Kaveh and then leave him unsatisfied? Or to unbalance him by pivoting from a gentle demeanor to a colder persona? This doesn’t feel like either of those things. It feels more like Alhaitham admiring him, indulging in these touches solely to satisfy his own craving for Kaveh—fulfilling his own desires, here, to take care of Kaveh by dressing him and making food for him.

Kaveh should be irritated. He should be bothered that he’s letting Alhaitham choose his outfit, especially when Alhaitham should have lost that privilege after spending so much money on such an odious thong, and when Alhaitham chose a shirt that’s too short for Kaveh’s trousers. Kaveh should feel frustrated, and humiliated, and punished right now. 

He doesn’t, though. Does he? Alhaitham is certainly getting on his nerves, but it isn’t the sort of frustration Kaveh was expecting. 

Alhaitham reaches over and grabs the trousers from the bed, unfolding them and holding them open near Kaveh’s ankles. Kaveh compliantly steps into the legs, struck by a bizarre feeling as he accepts the help. After all, it isn’t as if he’s recovering from an injury and has limited mobility; he can easily put on a pair of trousers himself. In fact, he even asked to, and Alhaitham refused to give him permission.

Kaveh stands still while Alhaitham pulls the trousers up to his waist and fastens them. They’re one of Kaveh’s tightest pairs, closely hugging his ass and front, and Alhaitham lightly cups the outline of Kaveh’s bulge before stepping back to regard him.

“Hm.” Alhaitham moves behind Kaveh again, and his fingers lightly sift through Kaveh’s hair, shaking the wavy curls loose so that they aren’t tangled together. “Let’s leave your hair down today,” he says, arranging the hair on Kaveh’s shoulders and letting stray pieces fall against his cheeks. “I like when it frames your face like this.”

His words drape themselves over Kaveh like a veil, shrouding and filtering his thoughts. Alhaitham has decided how Kaveh will wear his hair today, based on what he likes. Alhaitham chooses how Kaveh’s hair will be worn, chooses the clothes he will wear, the foods he will eat, the things Kaveh is permitted or forbidden to do. Alhaitham decides, and Kaveh accepts, because that’s the way things should be done. 

Kaveh inhales shakily, his eyes darting around as he drifts into a daze. He feels unbalanced, but in an alluring way—as if he’s in a dusty room and just caught the scent of fresh air outside, beckoning him to chase down the source and breathe more of it. 

“I’ll finish getting breakfast ready,” Alhaitham says, stepping back.

Kaveh turns his direction, still feeling a bit dazed. Where—where is Alhaitham going, so suddenly? If he’s gone, then Kaveh can’t ask for permission…and if Kaveh can’t ask for permission, he can’t do anything. “Can I—can I follow you to the kitchen?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you by yourself.” Alhaitham presses his hand to the small of Kaveh’s back, beneath the hem of the shirt, and leans close to murmur, “After all, leaving you to your own devices is what allowed you to get yourself into this mess in the first place. I need to keep an eye on you, or else your poor judgment might land you in even more trouble.” 

God, why does it feel so good to hear Alhaitham say that?

Alhaitham guides Kaveh back to the kitchen, palm pressed to his skin every step of the way, and Kaveh feels a bit dizzy and breathless at the sensation, almost exhilarated. 

In the kitchen, Alhaitham leaves Kaveh’s side to resume preparing the food, and Kaveh hovers in the doorway awkwardly. “Ah…do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Alhaitham says, already busy chopping some pistachios. “I’m almost done.”

“Right.” Kaveh tugs at the cuff of his three-quarter sleeve. “I just, um…feel a bit unhelpful.”

Alhaitham pauses, knife angled against the cutting board, and looks up at Kaveh with an unreadable expression. “Why? We’ve already established that you can’t do anything yourself. There’s no way for you to help, so why feel bad about not doing something that’s impossible for you to do? Does a pet feel bad about its inability to do housework? Or does it simply lay contently at its owner’s feet, unaware and unbothered by the things that it can’t do?” 

Does a…pet…?

Alhaitham sets down the knife and crosses the kitchen to rejoin Kaveh by the doorway, cupping his face in both hands. “If there’s something you need to do,” he says, “I’ll make sure that you do it. Don’t worry yourself about anything else.” He gently runs a thumb over Kaveh’s lips. “Are you feeling alright? Can you give me a color?”

“Yellow,” Kaveh says, reluctantly. “I mean, it’s an almost-green yellow—much like my underwear, I suppose, ha—but…” He sighs. “I’m alright, yes. I’m sorry, I’m just not good at…” He pauses, grasping for the right word while Alhaitham patiently waits. “At relinquishing…”

Alhaitham hums in understanding. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you to accept this premise as an established fact, just for today: You can’t handle things on your own, hence you require my permission and submit to my judgment. And I don’t want you to question why it is that you’re unable to do things on your own—if your thoughts start going that direction, you need to let me know immediately, and we’ll stop to address that.” Alhaitham tucks a strand of hair behind Kaveh’s ear. “Can you accept that premise without interrogating it?”

Kaveh considers. So, he can’t help at all, can’t do anything, and that’s…fine? There’s nothing wrong with that? It certainly feels like there’s something wrong—like there’s some reason Kaveh can’t allow himself to believe that, some unsavory consequence if it were to be true. 

“I—” Kaveh’s eyes fall to Alhaitham’s chin. “I’d like to, it just—feels wrong to…to be useless like that.”

“The premise doesn’t state that you’re useless. It only indicates that you need to rely on me.” Alhaitham presses two fingertips beneath Kaveh’s chin, guiding his eyes back to Alhaitham’s. “Would you call a beloved pet ‘useless’, Kaveh?”

“No, I mean—no, of course not…that is, I wouldn’t even view a pet in the context of utility at all, just…”

Alhaitham arches his eyebrows, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Sounds like you’re starting to understand.”

Then…Kaveh doesn’t need to be useful to Alhaitham, and that isn’t an inadequacy on his part? It’s just a fact, merely the way things are, and all that’s left is for Kaveh to accept it and watch Alhaitham handle things? 

“Um, alright,” Kaveh says. “May I sit at the table?”

“You may.” Alhaitham kisses the corner of Kaveh’s mouth, then pulls out a chair for him. Once Kaveh is seated, Alhaitham even pushes the chair back toward the table, and his fingers reassuringly brush Kaveh’s shoulder before he returns to preparing the food.

A few minutes later, Alhaitham has breakfast set up on the table, and Kaveh’s stomach growls desperately. Freshly-baked flatbread, silky sarsheer, cherry preserves, all homemade—Kaveh smelled the cherries simmering last night, and he recognizes the grooved bread and sarsheer as recipes from Alhaitham’s grandmother. There’s also a small bowl of honey, a dish of walnuts, a plate with slices of soft cheese, and even a ramekin of warm fereni with chopped pistachios sprinkled on top.

So many of Kaveh’s favorites: the breakfast suits his tastes perfectly. And he already considers it a wonderful start to the day if Alhaitham makes even one of these delicious things…yet here Alhaitham made all of them, on a day when Kaveh is specifically meant to be punished. Is there a catch?

Suddenly Kaveh wonders if this food is going to end up on him, instead of in his stomach. That was one of the things he and Alhaitham discussed when they were coming up with ideas for punishments, with Kaveh specifying three limits: Only use foods that I like. Don’t ruin any of my clothes. And if I’m covered in food or drink, I don’t want to be left sitting in it for too long—I need to be able to wash myself off a few minutes later, at most. 

Hm. These are certainly foods that Kaveh likes, but he didn’t give Alhaitham permission to ruin these clothes, and his hair hasn’t even dried from the shower he just took; it would be a bit absurd of Alhaitham to make him bathe again so soon. And they agreed that Alhaitham wouldn’t deny him food or drink, either—those are both guaranteed to be a ‘yes’ if Kaveh asks, in addition to using the bathroom. 

Then again, he supposes that eating and ending up covered in food aren’t mutually exclusive.

“Something on your mind?” Alhaitham asks. 

“Oh, no, uh…” Kaveh wets his lips. “The food looks delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Alhaitham watches Kaveh reach toward a slice of bread, then says, “Stop.”

Kaveh pauses, his hand hovering over the plate. “Hm? What…?”

“You didn’t ask for permission.”

“Right, sorry,” Kaveh says, with a sheepish smile. “I got distracted by how good everything looks. Can I eat breakfast now?”

“You are indeed an organism that possesses the physical capacity to consume food for nourishment at any time of day,” Alhaitham says, “including the time at present, which is when such nourishment is typically referred to as breakfast.”

Kaveh should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “Um, can I…eat…” 

Ugh, this is too convoluted. Should Kaveh ask to put all of the food on his plate, first? Probably. In which case, does he need to ask about each individual piece of food, or can he just generally ask to serve himself breakfast? And once it’s on his plate, can he simply ask to eat everything on the plate, or…?

While Kaveh stares at the spread of food in bewilderment, Alhaitham begins dishing food onto Kaveh’s plate and arranging it for him. Two slices of bread, a scoop of sarsheer, a spoonful of preserves, and so on—leaving Kaveh to feel rather helpless as he watches, knowing that he hadn’t even managed to ask if he could do that himself.

Once Alhaitham is done, Kaveh hesitantly asks, “May I eat the food on this plate?”

“All at once?” Alhaitham asks, now serving himself. “Even your mouth isn’t big enough for that, Kaveh.”

Kaveh sighs. “May I eat the cheese on this plate?”

“Yes, you may.”

Kaveh pinches a slice between his fingers and bites into it, savoring the salty, creamy taste. The flavor seems familiar; he wonders if it’s from one of those expensive stalls that set up shop in the bazaar a few times a month, selling freshly-imported goods from all across Teyvat. “This tastes good,” he says, popping the rest of the piece into his mouth. “Where is it from?”

“Do you remember that village north of Sobek Oasis that we visited during a research trip last year?”

“Oh!” Kaveh nods and swallows. “We had this for breakfast there.” 

“Correct. It’s similar to the standard varieties of cheese that are popular in Sumeru City, but has a distinctive flavor due to some of the milk being salted before rennet is added.”

“Mm. I like it.” Kaveh decides to complement the saltiness with something sweeter, and asks, “May I eat some bread with honey and sarsheer?” 

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow as he spoons some sarsheer onto bread for himself. “You haven’t finished eating your cheese.” 

“I’ll come back to it. I don’t want to eat the salty part of the meal all at once.”

“You can eat two bites of bread with honey and sarsheer, then.”

Well, that’s frustratingly specific. Sighing, Kaveh scoops the clotted cream onto his bread and drizzles some honey on top. “I appreciate the home-cooked meal, but it seems like it was a lot of trouble. I thought you said in your note that you didn’t want to punish yourself with unnecessary labor?” 

“I don’t consider it troublesome to prepare food for you,” Alhaitham says, as Kaveh takes his first bite of bread. “It’s my job to keep you happy and fed, and to provide you with a comfortable place to sleep.”

Kaveh hums as he chews—and oh, it tastes so good, fresh and warm and sweet. He wishes he didn’t have to stop after two bites. “I thought your job was working as the Akademiya’s Scribe. Don’t tell me you spend all your office hours looking up recipes instead of doing your work? Or, actually…does the House of Daena even have a section for cookbooks?” 

“Not exactly. The shelves for historical and cultural texts include select cookbooks, but there are some books that don’t fit into that section. For instance, we have some texts focused on allergens and dietary restrictions, and those are stored in the section with books about health and the human body. If we had more books of that genre, it might be prudent to organize a shelf solely dedicated to those. As it is, the collection isn’t large enough to have its own dedicated section, and those books aren’t in high demand, anyway.” 

Kaveh nods, swallowing his second bite of bread. “That makes sense. May I have a drink of water?”

Alhaitham sets down his bread and reaches for the pitcher of water sitting on the table, then tips the mouth over Kaveh’s empty glass and fills it the whole way, leaving only a sliver of emptiness below the rim. “You may drink half that glass.” 

“Wh—” Kaveh stares at the tall glass. “Uh, no, I mean—I only wanted to take a few sips—”

“You didn’t ask for a few sips,” Alhaitham says, picking up his piece of bread. “You asked if you could have a drink of water, and I’ve told you the manner in which you’re required to drink it.”

Grimacing, Kaveh lifts the glass to his lips and takes a few gulps. He’d been hoping to avoid drinking too many fluids this morning, in an attempt to minimize his reliance on Alhaitham for bathroom breaks. Even if Alhaitham is guaranteed to give Kaveh permission, that doesn’t mean he won’t throw in some stupid condition specifying how exactly Kaveh is permitted to use the toilet each time.

Kaveh continues sipping and checking his progress until the water has reached the halfway point, then sets down the glass with yet another sigh. “May I eat some walnuts now?”

Alhaitham hums while chewing, then asks, “How many?”

How many? He can’t be serious. “Five?” 

“No.”

“Three?”

“No.”

Kaveh growls quietly. “Can I eat one single walnut, please?”

“Sure,” Alhaitham says—and it takes all of Kaveh’s willpower not to cuss the man out while pelting him with the remainder of the walnuts.

Kaveh eats his single authorized walnut and stares at the rest of the food on his plate, feeling like he might lose his mind. How many questions will it take for him to finish this whole breakfast? Is one plate of delicious homemade food worth the cost of his sanity?

He considers persevering and asking however many questions it takes, in the spirit of suffering his punishment—and he also considers asking Alhaitham if he can just finish his first slice of bread and then eat the rest later, though that’s probably a bit of a cop-out. But the food all looks so good, and Kaveh desperately wants to enjoy this delicious breakfast without worrying about Alhaitham’s stupid rules…so he decides to set aside his pride and employ the same tactic that neutralized Alhaitham’s guessing game back in the bedroom, knowing that Alhaitham will likely tease him for admitting defeat so soon.

“Um…” Kaveh ducks his head and clears his throat. “Could you please…feed me my breakfast?” 

Alhaitham leaves that question hanging in the air for a long moment, taking his sweet time chewing a piece of bread, and Kaveh’s stomach flutters in the silence, excited at the prospect of him saying yes.

Finally Alhaitham swallows his food and leans back in his seat, arms folded across his chest. “Oh? So you can’t even feed yourself without help. I’m surprised you managed to eat all that food at the tavern on your own.” He raises an eyebrow. “Is that it? You can’t dress or feed yourself, Kaveh?” 

His condescending tone sends a rush of arousal to Kaveh’s cock, and Kaveh squirms a bit in his seat. “I—yes, that’s correct.”

“Hm. Alright, then.” Alhaitham snaps his fingers and points at the floor by his feet, staring at Kaveh expectantly.

Oh. He wants…oh. 

Kaveh begins to stand from his chair, but Alhaitham holds up one hand with a quiet ah. Belatedly, Kaveh realizes that he needs to ask permission for this part, too—and the thought makes his heartbeat thump loud in his chest, pumping blood to all the wrong places. “May I kneel on the floor next to you, sir?”

The heat in his veins instantly ices over. Oh, no, what—where did that come from? He’s never called Alhaitham ‘sir’ during sex. He hadn’t meant to say that just now. Between his own sense of powerlessness and the way Alhaitham was speaking to him, the word instinctively rolled off his tongue, slipping out too quickly for Kaveh to catch himself.

“Sir?” Alhaitham repeats. “You’re that eager to eat on the ground like an obedient pet, huh. Fine—you can kneel on the floor by my feet. I’ll make sure you get fed and watered.”

With a thrill of anticipation, Kaveh slides off his chair and lowers himself onto his knees next to Alhaitham. This position is a bit more familiar to him, at least, even if the circumstances aren’t; Kaveh is no stranger to kneeling before Alhaitham like a pet, having his hair softly stroked while he waits to be rewarded for being a good boy. 

“No talking while you’re down there,” Alhaitham says. “I’d like to enjoy my breakfast quietly now.” 

Kaveh nods, bowing his head slightly with his hands resting on his lap. The realization sinks in that Alhaitham is going to hand-feed him, and that Kaveh asked for this. He surrendered the right to feed himself because it was too difficult for him, and practically threw himself at Alhaitham’s feet to be treated like a precious pet. 

“Good,” Alhaitham says, petting Kaveh’s hair. With his other hand, he dips a finger into the bowl of honey and presents it to Kaveh. “Here.”

Kaveh tentatively leans in and licks the honey from Alhaitham’s finger, feeling the sweetness tingle his tongue. Then Alhaitham plucks a syrupy cherry from Kaveh’s plate and holds that out for him, leaving Kaveh to round his lips and take it from his fingers. Kaveh sucks and chews on the tart fruit with a hum of satisfaction, and Alhaitham immediately offers him another, gently pushing it past his lips.

Alhaitham grabs a piece of cheese next—and pops it into his own mouth, lips curving in a smirk as Kaveh’s brow furrows in displeasure. He pouts and watches Alhaitham grab another piece, which Alhaitham teasingly holds out of reach, wiggling it back and forth as if he’s trying to get Kaveh’s attention.

Kaveh sits up a bit, and Alhaitham holds the cheese a bit higher—so Kaveh sits up a bit more, only for Alhaitham to do the same thing again, and again, until Kaveh frustratedly grabs onto the the edge of Alhaitham’s chair and boosts himself higher, craning his neck to reach the food. 

Alhaitham huffs out a laugh and presses the piece of cheese between Kaveh’s bared teeth. “What a cute pet,” he says, as Kaveh wrinkles his nose and chews. “I won’t be putting a collar on you until this evening, but seeing you like this makes me wish I were doing it sooner.”

Kaveh whines involuntarily, staring up at Alhaitham beseechingly. A collar, yes, please—he’s been waiting for Alhaitham to say that, hoping that it would be part of his plans for the weekend.

Alhaitham smiles and reaches down to cradle Kaveh’s chin in his hand. “Perhaps I should feed you breakfast like this every morning—kneeling by my chair with a collar on, eating your food from my hand. That might keep you from rushing out the door so often without properly feeding yourself.”

Kaveh tries to hold back another whine and ends up quietly moaning instead, squirming and tensing his thighs. It’s true: despite Alhaitham’s efforts to keep him fed, Kaveh has a habit of missing breakfast more often than not. Maybe it would be better if Alhaitham fed him like this every day. Maybe that’s what Kaveh needs. 

“Hm…” Alhaitham reaches for Kaveh’s plate again. “It’s a nice thought, but you probably wouldn’t get up in time, and I wouldn’t want to disturb your sleep when you already—”

Kaveh impulsively sits up, gripping Alhaitham’s thigh insistently. “I—” He clamps his mouth shut and glances away, remembering that Alhaitham ordered him not speak. A disappointed whine creaks in his throat in place of words, and his eyes fall to Alhaitham’s bare feet. 

“Oh?” Alhaitham says. “You’d wake up on time just for that, really?” 

Kaveh nods, because he would, or at least he would try—but, no, what is he thinking? It’s not as if Alhaitham would actually feed him breakfast like that every day. Kaveh hunches his shoulders slightly, cheeks burning at his overeagerness.

“Such a sweet pet.” Alhaitham reaches down to stroke Kaveh’s jaw, and the tension in Kaveh’s shoulders relaxes. “I don’t think you’d enjoy eating breakfast like that every single day, but perhaps we could do this every once in a while.” He grabs Kaveh’s partially-eaten piece of bread and offers that to him, cupping a hand beneath it to catch crumbs. “Here. Have a bite.”

Kaveh tears off a piece with his teeth and chews, swallows, leans in for another—and Alhaitham abruptly moves his hand, smearing a bit of sarsheer and honey onto Kaveh’s nose. Kaveh tries in vain to reach the spot with his tongue, but it’s no use; he’s stuck with the sugary cream on his face. 

“Hm…” Alhaitham dips a finger in the preserves on his own plate and then dabs the syrup on the tip of Kaveh’s nose. “Cherry, honey, and cream…it’s possible these colors suit you better than bright green and pink.”

Kaveh scoffs. That much is obvious—he wears these colors often for a reason, after all. (Though of course he doesn’t typically wear them on his nose.)

“I’ll keep that in mind for later.” Alhaitham leans down and kisses Kaveh’s nose to suck the cream off it, then holds out the piece of bread again. “One more,” he says, and Kaveh obediently bites off a piece. “Good boy.” 

Alhaitham gives him another piece of cheese after that, then has Kaveh eat five walnuts straight from his palm, causing Kaveh to get saliva on Alhaitham’s hand. Kaveh is almost past caring, but not quite; he feels a surge of embarrassment at seeing the glistening spot on Alhaitham’s skin, a streak of saliva left by a docile hand-fed pet.

“Hungry, aren’t you?” Alhaitham says. He shows Kaveh the ramekin of fereni. “Would you like some of this?”

Kaveh leans forward and takes a few careful licks of pudding from the dish. It’s creamy and sweet, comfortingly warm, and he slowly savors each bit on his tongue, relishing the faint rose flavor. Then Alhaitham scoops two fingers into the ramekin and holds them out for Kaveh, offering a tantalizing mouthful, and Kaveh eagerly sucks on those fingers to enjoy more of the treat, licking every last drop of pudding off Alhaitham’s skin.

He continues to suck even once it’s gone, cock throbbing at the way Alhaitham’s fingers fill his mouth, and Alhaitham indulges in the shameless display for several seconds before tugging his fingers free from Kaveh’s drooling maw. “My fingers aren’t on the menu,” he says, his mouth curved in amusement. “Hold on. I’m going to eat some of my breakfast now.” 

Kaveh instinctively rests his head on Alhaitham’s lap to wait, and Alhaitham’s fingers idly stroke his hair, soothing him into a doze. It’s…nice, kneeling and being fed like this. Much better than sitting through an infuriating question-and-answer process, anyway. Kaveh wouldn’t be too bothered if he had to spend the entire day as Alhaitham’s pet, even if that meant being teased or taunted a bit.

But, wait. Isn’t this supposed to be a punishment? Aside from dealing with a few annoyances here and there, it doesn’t feel like Kaveh has been subjected to anything too tribulating. If anything, this is just turning into an opportunity for Alhaitham to dote on him.

Well, fine. If Alhaitham accidentally ends up spoiling Kaveh when he’s supposed to be punishing him, so be it. Kaveh will just pretend that he’s not enjoying himself, the same way Alhaitham shamelessly pretends to consider Kaveh’s spankings a punishment. No, senior, I—mm, I’m not—ahn!—not enjoying myself, he’ll say, with his rock-hard cock spouting precum onto Kaveh’s lap, right before demanding thirty more swats while moaning like a whore. 

“Here,” Alhaitham says, startling Kaveh from his drowsing. 

Kaveh leans back to see Alhaitham holding the half-full glass of water in his face, and shakes his head to decline. He really doesn’t want to end breakfast with an agitated bladder—but his refusal only causes Alhaitham to present the glass more insistently, so Kaveh presses his lips to the rim and takes a small sip to appease him.

Except then Alhaitham’s other hand slips around the back of Kaveh’s head to firmly hold him in place, and Alhaitham tilts the glass at a slightly steeper angle, urging Kaveh to take another drink, and another, and another.

Fuck. Kaveh got too complacent. He forgot that Alhaitham is still in control, and that Alhaitham will assert that control, not hesitating to put Kaveh in a punishing situation.

As if to prove that point, Alhaitham sloshes a bit of water from the cup, and a few cool droplets spill onto the exposed triangle of Kaveh’s chest. Kaveh shivers, wondering if that’s a warning that Alhaitham is about to dump the rest down his shirt, or—

Alhaitham tips the glass just wrong, pouring a sizable puddle of water directly onto Kaveh’s crotch.

It’s not enough water to completely soak through Kaveh’s trousers, but it’s certainly enough for Kaveh to be aware that water has been dumped on his groin—and when he glances down, he sees that it was enough to create a visibly damp spot, too.

“Hm?” Alhaitham says. “What’s this?”

He reaches down and presses his fingertips to the wet patch of fabric covering Kaveh’s groin, and then his hand wanders a bit higher, prodding at Kaveh’s bladder. 

Kaveh sucks in a breath, pressing his thighs together and glaring up at Alhaitham. He might not have go to the bathroom yet, but he certainly felt a twinge of need when Alhaitham pushed directly on his stomach like that. 

“Did you drink too much water, pet?” Alhaitham asks. “Do you need help with going to the bathroom, too?” 

What—no! No, Kaveh does not need help with that. He might need to be dressed and fed by someone else, but he’s still entirely capable of taking a piss on his own.

“I can walk you there now,” Alhaitham offers. Kaveh shakes his head fervently, and Alhaitham hums skeptically in response. “Are you sure? It seems like you’re having trouble holding it. I don’t want you to wet yourself and soak the nice underwear I bought you.”

Seriously? Is he really implying that Kaveh would fucking wet himself? Kaveh grits his teeth and shakes his head again, lips pursed tightly in a frown.

“If you say so.” Alhaitham grabs the pitcher and refills the glass all the way to the top. “Here, drink some more. You seem a bit dry.” 

More? What, does Alhaitham want to end up mopping the kitchen floor? Because according to Alhaitham, Kaveh is just a helpless little pet, meaning he definitely isn’t capable of doing housework. If Kaveh made any sort of mess, that would be one-hundred percent Alhaitham’s problem. 

Ugh. Alhaitham’s lucky that his pet is house-trained, or else this next glass of water would make him regret all that teasing of his.

Predictably, Alhaitham proceeds to ‘accidentally’ splash water from the overfilled glass onto Kaveh’s trousers, wetting more of his crotch. Kaveh turns his head to the side with a scowl, determined not to drink another drop—but of course Alhaitham simply grabs his face and turns it back toward the glass, firmly pressing the cup to Kaveh’s lips.

Kaveh wrenches his head away and immediately gets another splash of water on his chest, the cool trickle rolling down his sternum and onto his stomach. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham warns.

Alhaitham moves the glass toward Kaveh’s lips again, and Kaveh reflexively jerks back, suddenly feeling very uncooperative—because, really, fuck Alhaitham, he doesn’t deserve an obedient pet—

More water splashes onto Kaveh’s trousers, wetting his thighs, and he bites back the urge to growl. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham repeats. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”

Yes, and Kaveh already is hydrated. In fact, considering he’s the only one in this house who actually bothers to properly moisturize his skin, he’s arguably even more hydrated than Alhaitham is. (No, splashing water on one’s visage every morning absolutely does not count as moisturizing, though Kaveh is sure Alhaitham would try to argue that it does.)

“I know you struggle with remembering to drink enough water on your own,” Alhaitham says. “You’ll get lightheaded if you exert yourself without hydrating properly. How will you ride my cock and milk it dry if you have a headache from dehydration? What if I bend you over my desk to fuck you and you suddenly pass out?” 

Oh…riding Alhaitham’s cock, getting fucked on the desk—finally Alhaitham is saying the sort of thing Kaveh wants to hear.

“And,” Alhaitham says, “adequate hydration is vital for comfortable bowel movements, of course, since it softens the stool.”

He—did he just change the subject to bowel movements?!

Kaveh surges toward the glass and begins desperately gulping down water. God, fuck, he’ll drink the whole damn pitcher if Alhaitham wants. Anything to make him stop talking about the incredibly unerotic dangers of constipation. 

“Which should be of particular interest to you, senior” Alhaitham continues—damn it, he’s still talking—“since improper evacuation of stool can make it rather inconvenient to prepare for receiving anal sex.”

Please, Kaveh thinks, please, I’m drinking the water, Alhaitham, dear god, what more do you want from me?

“Or, worse,” Alhaitham says, “such issues could even prevent anal sex altogether, since hard stool has the potential to tear the lining of the anal canal and cause a fissure.”

Kaveh knows this. Alhaitham knows this. They have been taking each other’s dicks up their asses for years, at this point, so it would be almost fucking impossible to not know about the connections between bowel issues and anal sex—and yet this knowledge does not stop Alhaitham, who mercilessly continues his constipation monologue while Kaveh drains the glass of water as fast as he can.

“It would be a shame if, after waiting for my cock all weekend, you were to experience a bowel issue that rendered you completely unable to receive penetrative intercourse. And you don’t want to make the wait any longer than it already is, Kaveh, do you?”

Well, if that somehow happens, then Kaveh can stick his cock in Alhaitham’s mouth while Alhaitham takes a dildo up the ass on his behalf. Or maybe Kaveh should just shove both dicks in Alhaitham’s ass at the same time, and teach him to show some respect to his senior. 

Alhaitham pulls the glass of water back before Kaveh can finish it off, deliberately trickling a few more drops onto Kaveh’s trousers as he does. “Are you certain you didn’t have an accident?” Alhaitham asks. “I’ve heard that some dogs can’t control their bladders when they’re excited. Is that what we’re seeing here? Is my pet so eager to take my cock that he pissed himself in excitement?”

Kaveh’s cock twitches, and a sweet tension curls beneath his hips.

He’s…he’s aroused. 

Alhaitham is mocking him, belittling him with the suggestion that he could get so excited about Alhaitham’s cock that he pisses himself—the idea that he doesn’t get hard when he’s aroused, and instead loses control of his bladder—the implication that he’s such a helpless little thing that he needs Alhaitham’s help just to keep his trousers dry—

And Kaveh is turned on, hungry to hear more of Alhaitham’s taunts, craving the depraved enjoyment of being put down like this.

“Hm.” Alhaitham swirls the remaining water around the glass. “At this rate, you’ll be sitting in a puddle by the end of breakfast.”

Kaveh burns with arousal and shame, feeling like a stupid animal who’s unable to control himself, utterly reliant on Alhaitham to take care of him.

“I wonder, though,” Alhaitham says. “Would it really be an accident? Perhaps you’re thinking of doing it intentionally, in which case I’ll warn you: if you think that soaking your underwear will convince me to let you take off that thong, Kaveh, you’re mistaken. I paid good money for that gift, so obviously I’m going to make sure you keep wearing it until I’ve gotten my money’s worth.”

Wait, he—did he—is he suggesting that Kaveh would piss himself on purpose just to avoid wearing the stupid thong? And that Kaveh would be stuck kneeling in the sopping thing for the rest of breakfast, a filthy pet forced to sit with his mistake until Alhaitham eventually deigns to clean him up?

An inferno of humiliation roars in Kaveh’s head. He wouldn’t—he isn’t—

That does it. Kaveh reaches up and swats at the glass in Alhaitham’s hand, knocking it sideways and spilling the rest of the water onto Alhaitham’s lap. 

Ha! Serves him right. Kaveh hopes Alhaitham enjoys wearing sodden trousers as much as he enjoys talking about them.

The triumphant feeling lasts for about three seconds, and then the significance of Kaveh’s outburst sinks in.

Oh, no. What was he thinking? He’s already in a heap of trouble, and now he’s gone and made it ten times worse for himself. He didn’t just retaliate while Alhaitham was in charge—he retaliated while Alhaitham was in charge of administering a punishment.

Alhaitham blankly looks down at his soaked lap, and Kaveh stares at the side of his head with wide, pleading eyes, a quiet whine humming in his throat. There’s only so much he can communicate without words, but he does his best to convey the intense regret coursing through his veins. 

Alhaitham finally glances at Kaveh—whose eyes are wet with almost-tears, lips wobbling from a withheld cry—and rolls his eyes with a sigh. Kaveh ducks his head and hunches his shoulders, bracing himself for Alhaitham’s verdict.

Which, it turns out, is just a gentle pat on the head. “I’ll let that slide,” Alhaitham says. “But no more misbehaving. Understood?”

Kaveh nods, his eyes fixed on the floor. He hears the empty glass quietly clunk against the wooden table, and this time sits without protesting when Alhaitham reaches down to feel the damp spots on his trousers.

“Hm. This feels cold,” Alhaitham observes. “I see, now—you must have drooled all over yourself when I wasn’t looking. Were you salivating over my breakfast, perhaps? Here.” He grabs the partly-eaten bread from Kaveh’s plate and offers it to him. “We can’t have you getting jealous of my food. You might jump on the table to steal off my plate, and then I’d have a mess to clean up.”

Kaveh’s cheeks burn impossibly hotter. As if he’s some unruly pet who jumps on tables and pisses on floors if Alhaitham doesn’t keep him in line—ugh! Why did Kaveh ever think that it was nice to be Alhaitham’s pet? Fuck him! It’s not nice at all. It’s downright awful.

And Kaveh’s stupid dick is still hard, thumping with arousal from being teased and degraded. 

Torture. Absolute torture.

Once Kaveh finishes eating the bread, Alhaitham pushes back his chair and unbuttons his wet trousers, lifting his hips to slide the waistband down to his ankles. Kaveh stares at the half-hard cock now on full display between Alhaitham’s legs, its thick veins begging for the mouth of a loyal pet.

Oh, Kaveh wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his breakfast warming Alhaitham’s cock. In fact, he wouldn’t even be mad if the only thing he’s fed between now and lunchtime is Alhaitham’s cum. 

Kaveh hums and leans closer, but Alhaitham stops him with a hand. “What are you doing? There’s no food on my lap. I’ll give you some more in a minute—hold on.”

But Kaveh doesn’t want more food—he wants Alhaitham’s dick in his mouth, and the hazy feeling that comes from being a dutiful cocksleeve. With a desperate whine, he moves his head in an attempt to get past Alhaitham’s hand.

Alhaitham suddenly grabs Kaveh’s nape and a fistful of hair, yanking lightly. “Kaveh, that’s not food,” he says. “Sit still.”

Kaveh doesn’t try to move again, but he does keep staring insistently at Alhaitham’s cock, silently willing him to see sense. Isn’t it obvious that Kaveh should be sucking him off right now, as an apology for spilling water on him? And isn’t Alhaitham craving that sort of release, when it’s been nearly a week since he last orgasmed that way? 

Apparently the plaintive look on Kaveh’s face isn’t enough to sway Alhaitham, though, because Alhaitham simply lets go of his hair and resumes eating breakfast.

The rest of the meal continues in near-silence, interrupted only by Alhaitham’s occasional teasing or praise—and Kaveh, though he plays the part of a polite pet, is considerably displeased.

First, although the food tastes delicious, Kaveh is struggling to focus on that fact when Alhaitham’s pretty cock is sitting right there, tempting Kaveh to use his mouth on it instead. 

Second, there are still several damp spots slowly drying on Kaveh’s trousers, and thanks to Alhaitham’s ‘no talking while you’re down there’ command, Kaveh can’t ask to change into a new pair…and even if he did manage to ask, he suspects that Alhaitham would refuse. Or, worse: Alhaitham would permit Kaveh to take off the current pair of trousers but forbid him from putting on another pair, leaving him to skip around the house in his ugly little thong, perfectly exposed for Alhaitham to rub that tiny pink string over his hole and taunt him with a reminder that his ass won’t be getting filled today. 

Third, all of the water Alhaitham forced him to drink is starting to make its presence known in his bladder. Kaveh estimates that in twenty minutes or so, he actually will need to use the bathroom, and he’s sure he’ll be subjected to more ridicule and teasing when he asks for permission. 

And finally, Kaveh is displeased because all three of those things have somehow made him unbearably aroused, his cock swollen and taut with a need for release. 

Fuck you, Kaveh wants to tell Alhaitham—but he isn’t allowed to speak, so he just sits and obediently licks more pudding off Alhaitham’s fingers instead.

Once Kaveh finally eats his last bite of cheese, Alhaitham grabs their empty plates and stands. “Stay here,” he tells Kaveh, cock bobbing at eye-level. “I’m going to wash these dishes and make some tea.”

Kaveh stares up at Alhaitham in confusion. He only asked Alhaitham to feed him breakfast, and breakfast has been fed—so why is he still kneeling on the floor? He’d assumed that once he finished eating, he could go back to sitting in a chair and talking like a normal person.

“Don’t worry,” Alhaitham says. “It won’t take long. Do you need to go to the bathroom first?”

Kaveh’s face flushes, and he shakes his head. They’re at a point where Kaveh isn’t even asking for permission, anymore; now he’s silently relying on Alhaitham to identify his needs and make sure they’re met, just like a pet being carefully monitored by its owner.

Kaveh waits dutifully on the floor, only partly paying attention as Alhaitham washes some of the dishes and makes himself a cup of black tea. A perverse part of Kaveh’s mind tells him to climb onto Alhaitham’s seat and steal his spot the way a cat would, to see how Alhaitham would react—but Kaveh can’t risk misbehaving when he already got in trouble for spilling water on Alhaitham’s lap.

“Heh.” Alhaitham returns with his cup of tea—still bare-assed and flaunting his cock—and sets it down on the table. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated. What’s wrong? Didn’t you like your breakfast?”

Kaveh pouts and glares at Alhaitham’s bare calves. The food was delicious, obviously—but Kaveh is still very, very unsatisfied, and Alhaitham knows exactly why that is.

“I think you did,” Alhaitham says, “and that you’re frustrated for a different reason. Do you want me to tell you the source of that frustration? It’s important to know the root cause of a problem, in order to solve it.” He crouches in front of Kaveh, and Kaveh’s eyes drift down to the stupid piece of meat he isn’t allowed to taste. “Your problem, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, cupping his chin and forcing his gaze higher, “is that you keep relying on your judgment instead of mine. If you simply left everything to me, you wouldn’t need to use your head at all, and almost all your feelings of frustration would disappear.”

Most of them, maybe—but certainly not all of them, because Kaveh’s biggest source of frustration is currently crouched in front of him with his second-biggest source of frustration swinging between its legs. 

“This, for example,” Alhaitham says, grabbing his cock and giving it a slow, exaggerated stroke. “You’re convinced that it should be part of your breakfast, even though I’ve told you that it isn’t food. If you simply trusted my assessment, then you’d realize that you aren’t being deprived of anything worthwhile, and you would no longer have a reason to be upset.” 

Alright, then, Kaveh thinks irritably. If it’s not food, then how about we try and see if it works as a chew toy instead? 

Alhaitham sighs. “Still not convinced, hm? My poor senior, perpetually too obstinate for his own good. Well, hopefully you manage to learn your lesson by lunchtime, or I’ll have to escalate my efforts to remediate your behavior.”

Heat races through Kaveh’s veins and gathers below his hips. The thought of Alhaitham pushing him harder and harder until he folds and obeys, and never questions a single one of Alhaitham’s decisions—god, Kaveh likes the sound of that.

Alhaitham sits down and takes a single sip of tea, then frowns. “I added too much sugar,” he says. “I think this is more to your taste.” To Kaveh’s dismay, Alhaitham lowers his hand and presents the cup to him. “Here, pet. Have a drink.” 

Cringing, Kaveh sips at the tea as instructed—and sips, and continues to sip, until Alhaitham pulls the small cup back to show that it’s been drained to the dregs.

Ugh. Kaveh’s fate is sealed: He’s not getting through the morning without at least one humiliating trip to the bathroom.

“You can stand up now,” Alhaitham says, getting to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” 

Kaveh awkwardly gets to his feet, his hand desperately itching to smack Alhaitham’s shapely ass on its way out the door. He’s starting to feel the first hints of an ache in his bladder, now, thanks to all the water Alhaitham made him drink. Asshole.

Alhaitham returns a few moments later wearing an extremely tight pair of leggings, the snug fabric distinctly outlining the shape of his manhood. “Hm…” Alhaitham reaches down and idly rubs his crotch, and Kaveh watches in frustration as the clothed cock visibly stiffens at his touch. “Do you need to go to the bathroom yet? You had a lot to drink.”

“And whose fault is that?” Kaveh snaps, crossing his arms. “Yes, I need to piss, obviously. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh scowls. “So, do you have a question for me?”

Kaveh sighs. “May I please go to the bathroom?” 

“Yes, of course. Obviously I don’t want you to make a mess in the kitchen.”

With a growl of annoyance, Kaveh stomps into the hallway…and hears Alhaitham following close behind, practically stepping on his heels. “Alhaitham,” he hisses, pausing to grab one of Alhaitham’s bare biceps. “Exactly how involved in this process do you think you’re going to be?”

“I won’t be in the room with you during the act of urination, if that’s your concern,” Alhaitham says. “I’m just making sure I’m within earshot so that you can continue requesting permission when necessary.”

“Alright,” Kaveh says, releasing Alhaitham’s bicep. “That’s fine.” With the way things have been going, he was starting to worry that Alhaitham planned to hold his damn dick for him, or something.

In the bathroom, Kaveh reaches for his trousers only to be immediately stopped by Alhaitham’s voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kaveh turns to squint at him. Alhaitham is leaning against the doorframe with his arms casually folded—which, fine. Whatever. Kaveh and Alhaitham have both shared the bathroom plenty of times while one of them was pissing, so that’s not a problem. What Kaveh doesn’t understand is why Alhaitham is acting like Kaveh has done something wrong. “I’m going to the bathroom?”

“You’ve already gone to the bathroom. That’s where you’re standing right now. Did you want to do something else while you’re here?”

Kaveh clenches his jaw and takes a deep, calming breath. “Can I take a piss, please?”

“What, with your trousers still on?”

“No! Ugh. May I please lower my trousers and underwear?” 

“Yes, that seems advisable.”

Stupid Alhaitham. Of course he had to make taking a piss an entire tribulation for Kaveh—and it’s Alhaitham’s fault that Kaveh even needs to take a piss in the first place!

Growling, Kaveh quickly undoes his pants and tugs his underwear down, careful to keep a firm hold on his dick. “May I take a piss now, sir?” 

“Just anywhere? No. I’m not cleaning piss off the floor.”

Kaveh is going to kill the man. “May I piss in the toilet, Alhaitham? The thing in which it was fucking implied that I intended to piss?”

“I disagree with the claim that it was implied. I’ve made it clear by now that you need to be specific with your requests. And no, you may not.”

“Wait, what? But…you said…”

Kaveh’s mouth flaps in speechless shock as Alhaitham ducks around the corner and disappears from sight, then returns a few seconds later holding—

“You—” Kaveh gapes at Alhaitham. “You—you—!”

“Is that an ‘implied’ request to piss on me? Because, no, Kaveh, that isn’t an option.”

Obviously not, and even without saying it out loud, Alhaitham has made it very clear where he will allow Kaveh to piss—because that is the only logical explanation for why he would deny Kaveh the toilet and then show up with a fucking bucket dangling from his hand.

“Fine!” Kaveh snaps. He reaches out to snatch the handle of the bucket, and Alhaitham instantly pulls it away from his outstretched fingers. 

“Ask,” Alhaitham says. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Maybe Kaveh should just piss in the sink and suffer the consequences. He almost feels spiteful enough to try. “May I please piss in the bucket?” he asks, through gritted teeth.

“Sure,” Alhaitham says, handing Kaveh the accursed instrument. “I’ll give you some privacy now.”

He turns around so that his back is facing Kaveh, still leaning against the doorframe with the bathroom door wide open.

“Can I tell you to go fuck yourself?” Kaveh mutters, as he bends his knees slightly and aims his dick at the bucket. 

“You can,” Alhaitham says, over the disgraceful rattle of liquid hitting metal, “but I advise against it, unless you want to deal with a fifth punishment.” 

“Well, then, go love yourself, Alhaitham. You deserve all the best things!”

“I agree, Kaveh. Self-love is important. Thank you for the reminder.” 

Egotistical bastard, Kaveh wants to reply, but his desire to avoid a fifth punishment wins out. Having finished his business, his gives his dick a shake and glares at the back of Alhaitham’s head. “May I pull up my underwear and trousers?”

“Your underwear, yes.”

Kaveh sighs and tucks his dick back into the thong. “May I wash my hands and dry them?”

“Yes, that goes without saying. Hygiene is essential.”

Oh, so that goes without saying, but not pissing in a toilet? And ‘hygiene is essential,’ says the man who just made Kaveh piss in a fucking bucket!

Kaveh aggressively scrubs his hands while mentally reciting his rhyme about a junior whose cock deserves to be locked—solely to ensure that he washes for the recommended twenty seconds, of course, and certainly not because he’s frustrated with any juniors who happen to be in possession of a cock. 

Just as Kaveh concludes his poem and grabs a towel to dry off his hands, Alhaitham casually steps into the bathroom and picks up the bucket.

“What!” Kaveh squawks. “What are you—” 

Alhaitham dumps the bucket into the toilet and flushes, then clunks it back down on the floor. 

“You…” Kaveh stares at him in disbelief. “You…you just…ugh, whatever! May I refasten my trousers now, please?”

“You may,” Alhaitham says, “but you have to fasten them around your knees.”

“Never mind, I’ll just—” Kaveh stops, realizing that Alhaitham’s order isn’t optional. Sighing, he pulls his trousers down to his knees and fastens them there. “Hilarious. You’re enjoying this quite a lot, I see.” 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t say that handling buckets of piss is an activity I find particularly enjoyable.”

“Well, that sort of activity should have been exceedingly easy to avoid, yet here we are. Can I leave the bathroom?” 

“Yes. I’m going to sit in the living room, so you’ll need to follow me there.” Alhaitham’s eyes flick down to Kaveh’s lowered trousers. “Be careful not to trip.”

And just like that, Alhaitham turns and strolls away, leaving Kaveh to waddle after him with his legs restricted by the tight trousers.

The worst part, Kaveh thinks—as he carefully shuffles down the hallway alone, because Alhaitham has already rounded the corner and entered the living room—is that although breakfast took a while, there’s still plenty of time left until this punishment is over. Alhaitham has been a complete menace so far, and Kaveh likely hasn’t even experienced the culmination of his plans for the morning.

Kaveh arrives in the living room to find Alhaitham perched on the couch with a book in hand, as if he’s merely passing the time on a mundane weekend morning. “Why are you walking like that?” Alhaitham deadpans. “If your trousers don’t fit over your prodigious ass, you should just take them off instead of risking an injury.”

For one long, fuming moment, Kaveh questions why he’s ever had any interest in sucking this infuriating man’s dick. “May I take off my trousers, please?”

“Yes, I think that’s wise.”

Kaveh yanks the trousers down to his ankles and kicks them off the rest of the way, which leaves him in just the short shirt and glaringly hideous thong. “And may I sit on one of these couches?”

“No.”

“I—alright, can I sit on the floor?”

“No.”

“Can I sit on any piece of furniture in this room?!”

“No.”

Kaveh throws his hands in the air. “Fine. Can I stand?”

“No, you should have a seat.”

“I would love to, Alhaitham, but if I can’t sit on the floor and I can’t sit on any of our furniture, then…” 

Alhaitham pats his thigh with the hand that isn’t holding a book, and Kaveh’s body pulses with arousal.

“Oh,” he says. “Um…can I sit on your lap?”

“Quite needy, aren’t you?” Alhaitham says. “You may sit on my lap, yes—after you put on a show and give me a lap dance.”

What? Alhaitham wants him to do what? 

Kaveh shouldn’t be surprised. He’d literally suggested this to Alhaitham as a way to embarrass him, after hearing Alhaitham describe his own feelings of humiliation and submission when Kaveh once ordered him to do something similar. But Kaveh had given Alhaitham the task of undressing to focus on, and he’d provided Alhaitham with specific instructions, and he’d intended for Alhaitham to actually look seductive during all of that—whereas the point here is for Kaveh to feel ridiculous and humiliated, haplessly writhing about while Alhaitham degrades him.

“What—what should that look like, exactly?” Kaveh asks.

“Take off your shirt and show off your body,” Alhaitham says. “Convince me that you’re a desperate whore, Kaveh, and I’ll let you sit on my lap like one.”

And just like that, Kaveh is painfully aroused, his cock aching to be touched. “So, then…can I put on a show and give you a lap dance?”

“You may, if you rephrase the question and ask: May I shake my slutty ass and rub my hands all over my slutty body for you, sir?”

Kaveh feels light and dizzy, like a feather being blown about by a breeze. Those words are so filthy and ridiculous, gods. Kaveh has done other embarrassing things today, but this—being forced to ask permission to put on an humiliating performance while wearing a hideous skimpy thong, and being forced to ask in such a crude, airheaded way, all just so he can earn a seat on Alhaitham’s lap like a lewd little pet?

Fuck. Every drop of blood in Kaveh’s veins rushes down to stiffen his cock, leaving his head floating and empty. “May I…” Kaveh swallows. “May I shake my slutty ass and rub my hands all over my slutty body for you, sir?” 

It sounds so unlike something either one of them would ever say, vulgar and absurd—which makes it taboo, something Kaveh isn’t supposed to do, something so uncharacteristic that anyone who hears him should be embarrassed on his behalf. A well-spoken, accomplished genius, so desperate to get off that he’ll demean himself and speak like a vacant-minded whore, equipped with a brain that only has room for cock.

Kaveh waits, heart thumping, dick throbbing, silently begging Alhaitham to say yes—even though he already knows that’s the answer, and even though he shouldn’t want it to be.

“Hm, if you insist,” Alhaitham says. “Don’t take off the thong, though. I like how it looks on you.”

Kaveh nods. Unfortunately, being incredibly turned on isn’t enough for him to feel confident about what comes next; he has no idea how he’s supposed to ‘shake his slutty ass’ or ‘rub his hands all over his slutty body’ like Alhaitham ordered him to. He awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, trying to think of something that will work. 

He knows how to show off his body normally, of course. He’s flaunted his assets for Alhaitham plenty of times. He knows how to arch his back so that Alhaitham pays attention to his ass, how to place his hands on his hips so that Alhaitham grabs his waist, how to present his cock so that Alhaitham dives in and wraps his lips around it. 

But that’s the art of subtle, tasteful seduction. Kaveh doesn’t just wildly shake his ass and gyrate his hips like a drunken bird doing a mating dance, which is more along the lines of what Alhaitham currently wants him to do. 

And Kaveh is prone to feeling ungainly in his own skin, at times, after experiencing years of distress from all the ways his body used to be wrong. He’s still occasionally self-conscious about the way he moves, worrying that it won’t come across as attractive because it doesn’t feel attractive—so it’s no easy task to purposely dance in a tasteless and exaggerated way, becoming the very caricature that he fears his normal attempts at seduction will resemble. 

“Well?” Alhaitham says. He sets his book aside and crosses his legs. “I’m waiting.”

Kaveh hesitantly grabs at the bulge in his thong. “Um…could you instruct me?”

“Oh, so you need my help with choreography? I assumed you had a whole routine planned, given how confidently you made your request. Alright—start by circling your hips while you unbutton your shirt. Are those instructions simple enough for you, or do I need to dumb them down more?” 

Moving his hips in a circle, Kaveh slowly unbuttons his shirt. Undressing, at least, he knows how to do; he’s teased Alhaitham this way plenty of times, playfully exaggerating each movement to drag things out and drive him insane. Of course, Kaveh typically doesn’t move his hips as if he’s been hired to do a lap dance, but this isn’t too bad so far. 

All too soon, though, the shirt is unbuttoned, and Kaveh feels stranded as he waits for further instruction.

“Take off your shirt,” Alhaitham tells him. “And I assume your slutty body wants to be filled with cock, so let’s see you roll those hips like you’re riding me.”

Wetting his lips, Kaveh shimmies out of the shirt and tosses it aside, leaving just the eyesore of a thong. His whole body prickles with awkwardness as he tentatively grabs at the bulge and starts rocking his hips, then tries cupping a pectoral with his other hand—but, well, the flat planes of his chest aren’t the same as the fat muscle of Alhaitham’s, so Kaveh doesn’t have much to squeeze or grope. 

Alhaitham hums. “I’m not convinced you’re a desperate whore like you claim to be. I thought you were a needy little slut who wanted to sit on my lap? You’re moving like a stripper who’s getting paid a pittance on their last day before retirement.” 

Kaveh thrusts his hips a bit more forcefully, not sure what else to do. He’s too attached to the idea of making his body attractive; he can’t figure out how to let go of that compulsion and move in the unrestrained way Alhaitham wants him to. 

“What do you want to do once you’re sitting on my lap?” Alhaitham asks. “If that slutty body of yours could have anything it wanted, what would that be?” While Kaveh processes the question, Alhaitham adds, “And don’t tell me what you would do, Kaveh. Tell me what your body would do.”

“I’d—oh.” Kaveh clears his throat. “I mean, my…slutty body would…want your cock inside it.”

“Oh? Elaborate. Show me where.” 

Stuttering, Kaveh turns around and arches his back slightly. “Here,” he says, pressing both hands to the curve of his ass. “My body wants you inside its ass. Um, its slutty ass.”

“Hm. Is that really a slutty ass? It doesn’t look like one. Tell me, what makes it so slutty, Kaveh? I’m not interested in sticking my cock inside a chaste one.”

“It…” Kaveh uncertainly grabs at his ass and squeezes. “It’s…”

“Are you putting on a show, or just rubbing your sore backside?” Alhaitham sighs. “Shake your ass, Kaveh. Isn’t that what you said you were going to do? Shake it and tell me what makes it slutty.”

Kaveh plants his hands on his hips and wiggles his ass from side to side, feeling decidedly absurd and unsexy. “I…my—my body’s hole is…tight?”

“You’re thinking too much,” Alhaitham says. “I don’t want an academic thesis. I want a simple demonstration that your body is desperate to be fucked.” When Kaveh continues to stutter and falter, Alhaitham sighs again. “Grab the coffee table and bend over. Bounce your knees and jiggle your ass so I can see how it looks.”

Jiggle his ass? That—that’s absolutely vulgar, and tasteless, and crass. Groaning, Kaveh braces his hands on the coffee table and sticks out his ass, feet flat against the floor, then starts bouncing his knees as instructed, feeling the fat and muscle of his ass jiggle up and down from the motion. 

“Explain to me what I’m seeing,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh cringes. “My ass is—big, and bouncy, and—it wants to jiggle for your cock—ugh, please, I don’t…”

“Slightly more convincing. Thrust backward, now. Like there’s a thick, leaking cock right behind you, and you’re desperate to take it.” 

Kaveh imagines the fat wet tip of Alhaitham’s cock behind him, close enough to slip inside his ass, and bites back a moan. Curving his back, he starts bending his legs and scooping his hips backward with that picture in mind, humping the air between him and Alhaitham.

“Tell me about your slutty hole,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh groans. “M-my…my slutty hole is tight and warm—it wants to hug your cock—”

“Your hole wants to give my cock a hug? How sweet. That doesn’t sound very slutty of it, though.”

Kaveh’s face burns furiously. “My slutty hole wants to get rammed full of your cock, it wants to be pumped full of cum, it wants to swallow every drop until it’s leaking down my slutty thighs, it—it wants to bounce on your cock until it’s perfectly stretched to your size…” He hangs his head and whines, hair messily falling in his face. “It wants your cock. My slutty hole wants your cock.”

He trembles and continues to thrust his ass, hole twitching needily, until Alhaitham asks, “Are you a whore, Kaveh?”

And Kaveh knows that the answer should be yes, that this is meant to be another way for him to degrade himself—but the word feels awkward and inauthentic on his tongue. “I…yes?”

“Say it, then.” 

“I’m a whore?”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m a whore,” Kaveh mumbles.

“It seems a different approach is required. Can you moan for me, Kaveh? That’s what whores do, after all. Act like you’re faking an orgasm. Moan like a fake little slut.”

Fake little slut. Kaveh feels a strange thrill as he moans, quietly at first—and then louder, shameless and exaggerated, throwing his hips back as his desperate voice rings in the air. 

“Now,” Alhaitham says, “moan the word ‘whore’ for me.”

“Whore,” Kaveh moans, and feels a punch of arousal at the whiny, reedy sound of his own voice. “I—I’m a whore, fuck, I’m such a slut, oh—” 

Hearing himself whimper like that, it suddenly feels more natural to act the part, too. Kaveh whines and smacks his ass, then hooks his fingers under the thong and tugs, rubbing it over his hole and picturing a thick cock thrusting inside. The thought makes him moan even louder, and he almost convinces himself that there really is a fat flushed cock behind him, that if he moans enough like a whore he’ll finally get to feel it.

“You certainly are,” Alhaitham says. “What would prospective clients think, if they saw the genius architect acting this way?”

Fuck, fuck, what would people say? The genius light of Kshahrewar shaking his ass and whining for cock, dumb and debased, moaning out nonsense with no self-respect? 

They’d be appalled. They’d think that his reputation is ruined, that he should be ashamed—and what if he wasn’t? What if he just shook his perky ass and bounced on Alhaitham’s cock, moaned and drooled with a vacant smile, let the whole world think that he’s a brainless whore, and didn’t care what anyone thought?

Everyone would be mortified on his behalf. Everyone except Kaveh, who would just be a carefree slut getting filled with cock like he wants, happy and unbothered by what other people think of him.

He wants that. He wants to be that.

“I’m such a whore for your cock, sir,” Kaveh says, in a syrupy whine. “I—my slutty body wants your cock, my slutty hole wants to be full of your cum, my slutty face wants to be covered in it—”

He moans and rocks onto the balls of his feet, sticking his backside higher in the air, then starts bouncing up and down again, wildly jiggling his ass. It’s so demeaning, so degrading to move his body like a mindless sex object—and it feels so dizzyingly good to act stupid like this, humiliating himself more with each bounce of his ass, each whiny moan, each empty-headed word from his mouth. As if each dumb thing he does is a big cock thrusting inside him, giving him another hit of pleasure, and another, and another.

And being filled with cock is what a slut wants most, so Kaveh keeps acting like a witless one, lets his brain be battered by embarrassment until his thoughts are mushed-up mush, imagines what people would think of him and then imagines not caring. No caring, no thinking—just a desperate slut bouncing its ass, babbling about how much it loves cock, saying stupid things and moaning when its silly mouth can’t think of anything to say.

“Ah!” Kaveh bounces faster, his mouth hanging open as he pants for breath. “I’m a—I’m a slutty slut, I’m your stupid pet, I’m your stupid slut—” 

Fuck, he’s so hard, hot between the legs and leaking precum. All from shaking his ass and stuttering stupidly, begging to be bounced on Alhaitham’s cock. 

“My slutty ass wants your cock,” Kaveh says, and sticks out his tongue with drool hanging off it, dripping onto the table below. “My slutty body wants you to play with its pretty cock and stuff its hole full of cum, please—fuck my slutty hole, fuck my tight little hole, oh—want to be a messy slut, want you to cover my face with cum, come on my hair, stuff your cock in my stupid mouth and dump your big thick load down my—ah!”

He’s suddenly yanked backward by an arm around his waist, and lands on Alhaitham’s lap with a gasp. Alhaitham’s stiff cock presses against Kaveh’s ass, straining against his leggings, and Kaveh immediately starts rolling his hips, grinding against it and moaning.

“I’m a slut,” he says, “I’m a stupid slut, want your cock, want your cock, want your cock in my—mmph!”

Two of Alhaitham’s fingers are shoved into his mouth, and Kaveh’s eyes roll back with an ecstatic moan. He hums and licks and sucks, still wriggling on Alhaitham’s lap as an unholy heat burns in his veins.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham wheezes. “You can—you can stop. You’re sitting on my lap—”

Kaveh cuts him off with a loud moan, trying to form the word whore with his mouth muffled by Alhaitham’s fingers. He whines and keeps bouncing against Alhaitham’s thighs, desperately turned on from degrading himself on his junior’s lap, from acting like a cock-drunk airhead in front of the smartest man he knows. 

Alhaitham makes a choked sound and pulls his fingers free, allowing Kaveh’s rambling to resume: “I’m a whore, I’m a dumb stupid whore, give me your big fat—” 

He yelps, interrupted by Alhaitham wrestling him off his lap and onto the couch, firm hands pinning down his shoulders. Kaveh’s ass aches from colliding with the seat, but he barely even registers the pain, eagerly arching his back and bucking his hips, rubbing and squeezing his chest with a whine. 

“Fuck me,” Kaveh pleads, “please, fuck me, fill me up, come on my face, paint my pretty face…”

“Fuck,” Alhaitham breathes, tightening his hold on Kaveh’s shoulders . “Kaveh—Kaveh, you sat on my lap. You’re done. You need permission to do anything else.” 

He’s…done? He needs…?

“I need cock,” Kaveh says. “Need your cock, please—”

Alhaitham mutters a curse. “You need to be a good boy and hold still.” He reaches down and lightly pinches Kaveh’s lips shut with his fingers. “That means holding these still, too.” 

Kaveh blinks up at Alhaitham with wide eyes, panting for breath, unable to form a single thought. He can’t remember what he’s supposed to be doing right now, aside from holding still like Alhaitham said.

Alhaitham slowly lets go of Kaveh’s mouth, and Kaveh dutifully keeps it shut. “Thank fuck,” Alhaitham mutters, pressing a hand to his flushed forehead. He’s breathing heavily, too, air noisily hissing in and out of his nose. “Are you still with me?”

Kaveh squints, struggling to put a sentence together. “Hah…?”

“Come here.” Alhaitham sits back and carefully pulls Kaveh onto his lap, sitting him sideways across his legs. With one arm looped around Kaveh’s waist, he gently reaches up and brushes the sweaty bangs out of his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Oh, Kaveh is fantastic. His brain feels giddy and floaty and lighter than it’s ever been—but that’s too many words for his mouth to manage, so he answers with a slurred uh huh instead.

Alhaitham sighs. “I hate to deny you, but—”

Kaveh whines, his hips twitching. “Please.”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham warns. “You’re very tempting right now, but you know you aren’t allowed to come until tomorrow.”

“I won’t come!” Kaveh says. “I won’t come, I can be good, just fuck me, please.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Alhaitham mutters. “Even if you could—”

“I can,” Kaveh insists, “I can, I can, please—” 

“I already told you that your ass is staying empty until you’ve received all four punishments,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh groans. “And regardless, I’m saving my…‘big thick load’ for this evening. Even if I fucked you, neither one of us would be able to come, which means I wouldn’t be able to fill you like you keep begging me to, either.”

Kaveh’s forehead creases in concern. So, Alhaitham won’t put his cock inside him, and can’t fill him with cum? To a man whose sole desire at the moment is to be filled with cock and cum, that doesn’t sound very promising.

Alhaitham leans in and presses his lips to Kaveh’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Mm…” Kaveh contemplates the question—or tries to, anyway. “Empty?”

“Are you referring to your ass, or your emotional state? Your head?”

“My ass,” Kaveh says. “And my head, heh…” His lips twitch with a smile, and his eyes start to go a bit unfocused. “I…I’m…”

His brain automatically finishes that sentence for him: I’m a whore, I’m your stupid pet, I’m a slutty slut!

Kaveh’s eyes widen, and his face flushes prickly hot, his lungs momentarily failing to breathe. “Oh, gods,” he mumbles.

“Hm?” Alhaitham cups Kaveh’s cheek with a hand. “What is it?”

“I…I was…”

Kaveh glances at the coffee table, where he was just bouncing his ass and babbling stupid things a minute ago, and is suddenly struck by an overwhelming urge to crawl under that table and hide there until lunchtime. (Except he’d need to ask permission to do that, and he doubts that Alhaitham will let him.)

“You seemed like you were having fun,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh groans and covers his face with both hands. All the work he’s put into being attractive to both Alhaitham and himself—taking care of his hair and skin, designing a prosthetic that satisfied his aesthetic preferences, lightly toning the muscles of his arms and legs, commissioning tailor-made lingerie, practicing subtle seduction in front of a mirror—and he just scribbled over all those efforts with a few minutes of tasteless ass-shaking and ridiculous whining. That had to have been unattractive. Alhaitham must see him as an unsensuous fool, now, tacky and crude and unappealing.

“Kaveh?” Alhaitham prompts.

“Was that…unattractive?” Kaveh asks. “I mean, watching that must have been…”

“Kaveh.” Alhaitham lightly grasps Kaveh’s wrists and tugs his hands away from his face. “I only pushed you off my lap because I was about five seconds away from coming.”

“What? But why? What could possibly be arousing about that?”

“Hm, let’s see. My handsome senior, thrusting one of his best assets in my face, single-mindedly focused on begging for my cock, wanting it so badly that he’ll say or do any number of embarrassing things, all while he can’t even form a coherent thought because he’s so desperately turned on and attracted to me.” Alhaitham stares at him flatly. “I don’t know, Kaveh. What’s arousing about that?” 

Kaveh’s blush creeps up to his ears, and he purses his lips together, too flustered to respond. Well, sure, when Alhaitham puts it like that, it sounds attractive, but…

Alhaitham’s lips curve upwards, his thumbs reassuringly stroking Kaveh’s wrists. “We’ll discuss the specifics of our mutual arousal later. What do you need from me right now?” Kaveh opens his mouth, and Alhaitham swiftly adds, “Besides my cock, which isn’t an option.”

Kaveh huffs and crosses his arms, freeing his wrists from Alhaitham’s hold. “Well, I guess I won’t say no to another kiss, if that’s allowed.”

Alhaitham leans in and kisses Kaveh again, smoothing his hands down Kaveh’s sides to grip his waist. “I consider myself very fortunate,” he says, “to have such a gorgeous senior who adores me.” He presses his lips to Kaveh’s jaw, and Kaveh physically feels Alhaitham’s mouth form the shape of a smile, teeth pressing against Kaveh’s skin. “A clever, obstinate senior—” 

“Hey!” Kaveh says, swatting at Alhaitham’s shoulder. 

“—who stubbornly refuses to give his clever mind the rest it deserves.” He tucks a strand of hair behind Kaveh’s ear. “Don’t you think that brain of yours has earned itself a break, Kaveh?”

Alhaitham is probably right, since Kaveh has never been very good at doing nothing; he almost always feels restless whenever he tries, like there’s something he needs to be working on, and that tendency has certainly led to him burning himself out on more than one occasion. But that’s how Kaveh’s brain is wired, fundamentally. He can’t just snap his fingers and turn it off when someone tells him it’s time to take a break.

Well. Snapping his fingers, no—but apparently shaking his ass does the trick. 

“Of course,” Alhaitham says, “I’m not as wise and worldly as my brilliant senior, but I believe it’s perfectly fine for a person to mentally unwind using whatever methods work best for them. Whether that means wearing a collar and leash, or getting spanked, or…” Alhaitham wordlessly gestures at the coffee table, mercifully declining to recount Kaveh’s deeds. “I don’t see an issue. It’s not as if you’re mindlessly approaching work for a client—you’re spending time at home with me, doing things we both enjoy. But, again, I’m nowhere near as knowledgeable as you, senior, so perhaps I’m entirely mistaken.”

“What happened to your judgment being superior today?”

“Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me. In that case, I’m wiser and worldlier than you, and you’re required to listen to me.”

Kaveh laughs and kisses Alhaitham, and only realizes his mistake once it’s too late. “Wait, sorry, I—I didn’t ask, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine.” Alhaitham’s eyes are creased fondly, leaving no doubt that his stern discipline is just an act—and that if it weren’t for these shared kinks of theirs, he’d be hard-pressed to deny Kaveh pleasure of any sort. “You didn’t need to.” His gaze drifts downward, and he hums thoughtfully, hooking a finger beneath one of the brown ribbons on Kaveh’s thong. “You know, this really doesn’t look that bad on you.”

Kaveh scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I assure you that has nothing to do with aesthetics, and more to do with the fact that you’re hopelessly attracted to me.”

“Hm. Quite possible.” Alhaitham trails his fingertip down Kaveh’s thigh. “Maybe if you let me dress you sometime when I’m not punishing you, I’ll do a better job.”

Oh. Kaveh’s stomach flutters at the thought of being naked and helpless, not a single thought in his head, letting Alhaitham decorate him like a doll while he floats in a daze and dumbly waits to be filled with cock.

He likes being stupid, he’s realized. Usually when Kaveh submits or receives pleasure, he has to choose not to think, and deliberately set aside his thoughts—but if he’s stupid, if he’s just an empty-headed thing that literally can’t think, then that choice doesn’t need to be made. Kaveh can’t think, so he doesn’t. His brain doesn’t need to be turned off, because it doesn’t even have the ability to be powered on. 

Simple. No responsibilities, no expectations, no worries; just a drooling mouth and a tight hole to be filled. 

Alhaitham described a similar idea earlier, when he asked Kaveh to accept the premise that he was incapable of assisting with breakfast—the thought being that if Kaveh were a pet who couldn’t even fathom the concept of lifting a finger, then he wouldn’t feel guilty about his inability to do so. The same principle applies when Kaveh operates under the premise that he’s a stupid whore for cock: if he’s fundamentally incapable of thinking and his sole function is to take a dick in his ass or mouth, then he’s free to chase that pleasure without any reservations.

“I’d like that,” Kaveh says, looping his arms around Alhaitham neck. He idly toys with the short hairs at Alhaitham’s nape, and Alhaitham’s eyes start to drift shut in contentment. “Almost as much as I’d like having your cock inside me right now. Haven’t I been good enough to earn it?”

“You’ve been very good today,” Alhaitham says, “but you weren’t good earlier this week. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. If you continue to behave for your remaining punishments, though, I promise I’ll do my best to fill you up like you asked.” 

Kaveh sighs. If Alhaitham is abstaining from ejaculation altogether, that means Kaveh can’t even get the satisfaction of giving him a handjob. “You know, Alhaitham,” he says, “it’s rather cruel to convince a man that his sole purpose is to worship your dick, and then leave him entirely incapable of doing so.”

“Oh? Are you going to report me to the Mahamata for cruel and unusual punishment?”

“I don’t see the point,” Kaveh grumbles, “when my report would probably just find its way onto your desk, somehow.” Alhaitham snorts, and Kaveh tugs him close enough for their noses to brush. “But I have a hard time believing that my sweet junior could really be that cruel. Come on—can I do anything with your cock, Alhaitham? Or did you really rile me up for nothing?”

Alhaitham kisses him, which Kaveh suspects is a tactic to make him stop complaining—except then Alhaitham pulls back and says, “Hm, actually, I can think of one thing. In fact, I believe it would be an excellent use of your talents.”

“Really?” Kaveh moves to straddle Alhaitham’s lap, eagerly grabbing onto his shoulders. “What is it? I’ll take anything, as long as you aren’t going to be an ass and suggest something stupid.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Alhaitham says, with a hint of a smirk, “but also: you just asked permission, Kaveh, which means you don’t have a choice either way.”

“I meant anything sexual with your dick, Alhaitham!” Kaveh seethes over lunch, pointing a forkful of kuku at Alhaitham. “Not fucking sketching it!”

“Hm.” Alhaitham plucks a date from the bowl on their dining table and contemplates it, as if the wrinkly fruit is somehow more worthy of attention than his incensed senior. “Isn’t that arguably an erotic act, though? The task required you to closely study your lover’s intimate parts, observing every single detail so that you could accurately capture its likeness on paper. It certainly seemed like you were turned on by it, since you almost drooled on the page several times.”

“I’ve been turned on all morning! That means nothing!” Kaveh shoves the bite of food into his mouth and chews furiously. “At this point my balls are decisively blue!”

“You say that as if you’re the only one suffering that predicament. Do you think it was easy for me to hold my dick right in front of your face for half an hour, knowing that your mouth wouldn’t be providing me with any sort of relief?” Alhaitham reaches across the table to press the date into Kaveh’s mouth, and Kaveh glares at him as he accepts the treat. “Oh, but your sketch was quite impressive. Should we hang it on the icebox to show off your artistic talents?”

“I’m well-aware of your affinity for terrible decor, and have graciously tolerated it over the years,” Kaveh says, “but Alhaitham, I draw the line at making eye contact with a rendering of your penis every single time I walk into the kitchen. If that happens, I swear to you, I will throw out the icebox along with everything in it.”

“Noted,” Alhaitham says, which is short for I’ve noted the exact wording of your demand so that I can find an obnoxious loophole in it later. “How are you feeling so far, aside from that? Any concerns I should know about?”

“Concerns, no. Nothing comes to mind at the moment. But as for complaints—” 

“Oh, I knew you’d have those, for certain.”

“You made me piss in a bucket—”

“That’s correct.”

“—and DUMPED IT IN THE TOILET IN FRONT OF ME!” 

“Well, it would have been unsanitary to leave a bucket of piss sitting there.”

Kaveh groans and runs a hand through his bangs. “Go fuck yourself,” he mutters under his breath.

“Hm, you think I should? Your opinion means quite a lot to me, senior Kaveh, so I’ll take your proposal into consideration.”

Kaveh squints at Alhaitham through his disheveled curtain of hair. “What?” 

“You recommended that I fuck myself. Since the suggestion is coming from you, I’ll consider it.”

“Wh—what do you mean, you’ll consider it?!”

“That was an honest suggestion, wasn’t it?” Alhaitham asks. “The only other reason you’d tell me to fuck myself would be if you wanted to insult me, which seems far less probable, since it would be rather inadvisable for you to insult the person who’s in charge of administering your punishments.”

“Uh, I—that is…I mean…”

“Regardless,” Alhaitham says, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that it was a legitimate suggestion. So, thank you for your input, Kaveh. I’ve been debating whether that’s something I should do this weekend, so it helps to know your stance on the issue. While we’re on the topic, do you think I should go fuck myself with our twelve-centimeter dildo, or the twenty-centimeter one?” 

Kaveh’s forehead thunks against the table in despair.

Chapter Text

Kaveh rolls onto his side and drapes one of his legs across Alhaitham’s, burrowing closer to him. The two of them had taken to the couch after finishing lunch, where Kaveh dozed while Alhaitham read a book—and now Alhaitham is the one who’s sleeping, dappled in green-gold light from the windows overhead, leaving Kaveh to sort through his thoughts alone with the afternoon sun.

Despite Alhaitham’s numerous reassurances, Kaveh hasn’t quite managed to shake off the embarrassment from earlier. He’d acted so carelessly, so crass…and he’d enjoyed it, too, which makes him wonder if he’s even doing this properly, since Alhaitham’s punishments only seem to be giving him pleasure.

He supposes that’s the point, though. Alhaitham isn’t trying to inflict suffering, after all; he’s trying to make Kaveh feel good.

And it’s working, but in a way Kaveh isn’t used to. Like taking a new route to reach a familiar location: while the destination is the same, the means of arrival has changed.

Kaveh can be submissive in the bedroom, after all. That’s nothing new—although it didn’t exactly come naturally to him, back when he and Alhaitham first started experimenting with power dynamics.

Kaveh has always had trouble delegating things and letting other people take charge, and initially that tendency extended to sex as well. He felt less awkward being the dominant one during sex, since that essentially meant he was responsible for fulfilling Alhaitham’s needs and ensuring that everything went smoothly. Even if he didn’t have experience taking care of Alhaitham in that specific context, he was comfortable enough with the type of responsibility it entailed, and he was reasonably confident in his ability to handle that duty.

But for Kaveh to do the opposite, to sit back and make someone else be responsible for his pleasure…that concept was much more daunting. And although he’s gotten better at it, to the point that he’s comfortable with submitting to Alhaitham and enjoys it, he still sometimes struggles a bit when it comes to letting go of the reins.

Being vulnerable in the bedroom is perpetually difficult for Kaveh. It’s not that he doesn’t like intimacy, or even that he closes himself off—in fact, he actually tries his best to be open with Alhaitham, these days. The issue is that for Kaveh, sex is entangled with so many irremovable sources of discomfort: problems for which there’s no perfect solution, and triggers that he can’t always pinpoint or predict.

And Kaveh’s sexual encounters before his relationship with Alhaitham…well, they didn’t help.

He doesn’t mention those experiences to Alhaitham very often, and on the rare occasions that he does, he tends to avoid going into detail. (Of course, Alhaitham has more or less managed to infer what happened, just from observing Kaveh’s reservations when it comes to sex—but, still, for the sake of his mental wellbeing, Kaveh tries not to relive those memories too vividly.) And to heal from that pain of the past, Kaveh has tried to tell himself that those people might not have known better, and that he shouldn’t put any stock in remarks and assumptions born of ignorance.

But that context can’t entirely ease the pain. It doesn’t undo the comments denigrating the effects of his medication and surgery—the very things that finally brought peace to his body—nor does it erase those people’s insistence that he should have been content with the components of himself that caused so much unease, as if it were some moral failing for him to perceive defects in those parts and consider them in need of repair.

As if he were hurting others, somehow, simply by trying to remedy the harm that his body kept inflicting on him.

Those experiences carved out an unpleasant space in Kaveh’s head. He felt like he was inconveniencing and disappointing the people he tried to sleep with, when he declined to use his body the way they’d expected him to—and then he felt guilty for accepting those people’s interest in the first place, and began to wonder if it was his fault that their expectations weren’t being met.

He questioned whether some flawed perspective was causing him to feel uncomfortable with the way others treated him, and the ways they wanted his body. Their responses to his boundaries broiled his brain, compelling him to scrutinize his discomfort in search of some prejudice that he could excise from his thinking, some erroneous belief that made him averse to certain things.

Was he incorrect in thinking that the source of his anguish was physical in nature? Was his persistent distress actually caused by some contemptible worldview, and therefore a problem of his own making? Did he simply need to learn how to see himself differently, for his pain and discomfort to go away?

Eventually Kaveh gave up on casual sex altogether, but those thoughts continued to trouble him up until he and Alhaitham initiated their current relationship.

Alhaitham is a blessing. He’s never made any assumptions, nor has he ever spoken callously or carelessly about Kaveh’s body. In fact, there have even been a few occasions when he forgot the minor differences between his anatomy and Kaveh’s, and was endearingly perplexed by Kaveh’s responses until the realization hit him.

(Once, staying at an inn during a research trip, Alhaitham climbed onto Kaveh’s lap and asked Kaveh to bury his dick deep inside him—not expecting Kaveh’s response to be I’d love to, Alhaitham, except the dick you’re requesting is currently in our bedroom on the other side of the country. Can I interest you in my hands instead?

And another time, Alhaitham had half-joked that the two of them should just perform prostate exams on each other once they reached that age, to avoid the inconvenience of a doctor doing it—to which Kaveh replied that, well, it certainly would be better for Alhaitham to handle Kaveh’s exam, since otherwise the doctors might find the results rather concerning. When that answer only caused Alhaitham to stare at him in confusion, Kaveh clarified that the doctor wouldn’t be able to find a prostate to examine…and then Alhaitham closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, muttering an unnecessary apology while Kaveh struggled to contain his laughter.)

Alhaitham is so mercifully patient with Kaveh, and because the two of them have learned to accept their differing outlooks on life, Kaveh knows there’s no need for Alhaitham to personally agree with his perspectives or entirely understand what it’s like to be in his shoes. Alhaitham simply needs to accept those struggles and support Kaveh as he weathers them—and over the years, Alhaitham has absolutely done just that. With his help, Kaveh has gained a good deal of confidence in the bedroom, and he’s learned to set aside some of his anxieties and accept that things might not always go perfectly.

But only sometimes. Only to an extent.

Kaveh still always feels like he has those reins in his hand, just slightly—his grip never quite slack enough to let them slip completely from his fingers, thanks to some muscle memory that insists on keeping them in his grasp.

He’s discussed the issue with Alhaitham a few times, in an effort to pinpoint the source of the problem. Logically, Kaveh knows that he shouldn’t feel bad about making Alhaitham take the reins during sex—but already there’s a problem in that way of thinking, because Kaveh shouldn’t feel like he’s making Alhaitham do anything. And yet, sometimes, in the back of Kaveh’s mind, having Alhaitham dominate him feels like an imposition, a burden…even though—as Alhaitham has pointed out, many times—Kaveh never feels burdened by Alhaitham’s submission to him. Kaveh enjoys pleasuring Alhaitham and taking care of him, so it should be easy for him to understand that Alhaitham feels the same about dominating him.

Kaveh knows that. He tells himself that. But the instinct of clinging to control remains.

He can’t know for certain where that compulsion stems from; all he knows is that it’s rather stubbornly embedded in his sense of self. (And Kaveh has never felt too inclined to change that part of himself, either, since his brain insists that staying in control will prevent bad things from happening, which in turn prevents the agonizing guilt that tends to accompany those things.)

Worse, throughout Kaveh’s previous sexual experiences, his mind learned to constantly brace itself for discomfort or distress. He found himself anxiously expecting partners to describe him with words that he’d never given them permission to use—because of course it never occurred to them that he could be treated the same as the other men they’d slept with—and once he was undressed, he always dreaded the inevitable assumption that his body would be used certain ways, even after he’d expressly stated that those things weren’t on the table.

Although Kaveh knew that Alhaitham would never, ever treat him like that, it wasn’t easy for him to unlearn that vigilance once they began experimenting with dominance and submission. Too many past encounters had conditioned Kaveh’s mind to anticipate bad things happening during sex, so he couldn’t just will himself to relax when he was vulnerable like that.

On one particular occasion, Kaveh declared to Alhaitham that the sum of his mental hurdles were insurmountable. As much as he wanted to be submissive during sex, too many things were holding him back, and it seemed like the two of them were wasting their time trying to accomplish this impossible task.

Alhaitham disagreed. I don’t see any evidence to support that claim, especially when we’ve barely attempted to address those hurdles. For your consideration: If a storm somehow damaged our home, would you declare that it’s impossible to fix our house on the basis that it can’t instantly be repaired all at once? Or would you assess the problem and start working on repairs, with the understanding that the building can’t be completely restored overnight?

He told Kaveh that if sexual submission was something he wanted to try, then the two of them would work toward that, however long it took. And although Kaveh had grumbled about having his sex life compared to a dilapidated house—which Alhaitham annoyingly refuted, arguing that the word “dilapidated” was a misnomer—Kaveh ultimately trusted Alhaitham and tried to be more patient with himself.

And it did take time. More than once, Kaveh miserably declared that their endeavor had failed and tried to write himself off as a lost cause. Thanks to Alhaitham’s stubborn persistence and support, though, the two of them eventually figured out how to inhabit those roles, and now Kaveh feels comfortable ceding control to Alhaitham and putting his pleasure in another person’s hands.

Still, giving up control isn’t Kaveh’s natural state of being. Even with all the progress he’s made, there are times when he feels like he’s a bit out of his depth.

Of course, factually speaking, Kaveh always maintains control via consent. But he’s hindered by feeling as if that control isn’t enough, as if he needs something more than that in order to feel secure. He clings to the types of control that are within his reach, to make up for the power that has always evaded him—that is, to compensate for the lack of control over his own body.

So, to use that body for sex—the body that he has never completely been able to control, the body that has hurt him in the absence of that control—and to entrust that body to someone besides himself, someone who would have even less control over it…

Obviously Kaveh trusts Alhaitham, entirely, with his life; it’s the body he doubts.

Kaveh does like his body, now that he’s amended most of the ways it used to torment him, but that doesn’t mean he can just blindly put his trust in it. His body has been working against him since birth—since before birth, really, when it disregarded the blueprint it was given and began building something that defied the mind’s instructions—and even now, it still has the ability to hurt him unexpectedly.

It’s happened even during sex with Alhaitham, despite preparations and precautions. For instance, when Kaveh first tried using a prosthetic—which was meant to make him feel good, enabling him to make love to Alhaitham the way his body thought it should—the arrangement had ended up feeling unexpectedly wrong instead, leaving Kaveh so disconnected from the the act that he nearly started crying after the first few thrusts. The attempt at penetrative sex ended almost as soon as it began, and rather than being pleasured, Alhaitham spent the next few hours comforting Kaveh and finding ways to keep him distracted from his grief. For weeks afterwards, Kaveh couldn’t bring himself to penetrate Alhaitham with anything besides his fingers, for fear of revisiting that dysfunctional sense of emptiness.

And months ago, when Kaveh first wore a lace bodysuit during sex, he’d feared that something similar would happen—which was why he’d abruptly halted Alhaitham’s attempt to whisk him away to the bedroom, and then retreated to the bathroom for a quiet moment alone. Kaveh knew that he’d felt fine when he tried on the lingerie earlier that week, and that he’d felt fine when he donned it before meeting up with Alhaitham at Lambad’s, too…but when Alhaitham picked him up and began carrying him down the hall with the intent of undressing him, Kaveh suddenly panicked, because he couldn’t be sure that he would still feel fine then, in that particular moment, being seen and touched by another person.

These matters aren’t completely predictable or consistent, meaning that past experience is only useful to an extent; just because things went well on one occasion, that doesn’t mean Kaveh can assume he’s completely immune to certain types of discomfort.

So, he tends to be on guard when it comes to sex.

Typically when he’s in a submissive headspace, Kaveh maintains the idea that he could be in control—that he could be in charge, he could be responsible for everything, and that he’s choosing to hand the reins over to Alhaitham. Which, there’s nothing wrong with that. That mindset doesn’t reduce Kaveh’s pleasure in any way. But it means there’s an underlying sense of responsibility that never quite disappears: an inescapable presumption that if something were to go wrong, it would be Kaveh’s fault for delegating a duty that he shouldn’t have relinquished.

Earlier today, though…that was different. In that headspace, Kaveh isn’t handing responsibility to Alhaitham when he has the option of handling things himself—rather, he’s relying on Alhaitham because that’s the only thing he’s capable of doing. Kaveh can’t be responsible, can’t do things alone, can’t be in control, and so there’s no other choice but to listen to Alhaitham and obey.

It’s incredibly freeing, to allow himself to think that way for a short while, in a safe space with his loving partner.

But, well, it’s also intimidating.

Sighing, Kaveh presses closer to Alhaitham on the couch and nuzzles his face against the bare junction of his shoulder and throat, leaning into that sturdy warmth. As he does, Alhaitham stirs and lets out a quiet yawn.

“Sorry,” Kaveh murmurs. “Did I wake you?”

Alhaitham hums vaguely. “Is something the matter?”

“What, I can’t just hug my partner while we cuddle on the couch?”

“It’s the manner in which you’re hugging me.”

“Huh?” Kaveh has no idea what Alhaitham means by that—but he supposes Alhaitham isn’t entirely wrong. “Ah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Hm. That seems like a bad sign.”

“Oh, hush.” Kaveh leans back to poke Alhaitham’s cheek, and the corner of Alhaitham’s mouth twitches in amusement. “It wasn’t anything too negative. I was just thinking about how I always struggle to give up control whenever I’m submitting to you. Like in the kitchen earlier, when I couldn’t quite relax at first…”

A crease appears in Alhaitham’s brow. “Do you think the punishments I’ve chosen are too much—”

“No, no! They’re good, I enjoy them—” Kaveh catches himself and clears his throat. “Or, uh, that is, I’m feeling…very deservedly disciplined, of course—incredibly punished—”

“Mm hm.” One of Alhaitham’s hands slides down to Kaveh’s ass and delivers a light slap, and Kaveh responds with an instinctive ow, even though it didn’t really hurt. “I’m starting to think it’s nearly impossible to punish you”—Alhaitham squeezes Kaveh’s clothed ass, fingers prodding the tender flesh—“when your dick gets hard from just about anything I do.”

“Wh—not anything,” Kaveh says. “I certainly don’t get hard whenever you clutter a table I’ve just cleaned off. Or when you spend money on absurd decorations—ugh! My dick almost shriveled to a husk when you told me how much you spent on that stupid thong. I mean, seriously, Alhaitham, you paid that much just to annoy me?”

“Hm. I suppose there are exceptions.” Alhaitham’s hand moves to Kaveh’s thigh, his thumb moving back and forth soothingly. “Would you like to talk about the safeword in the kitchen?”

“No, not unless you have something to say. I feel like you addressed my concerns already. In fact, that’s mostly what I was thinking about.” Kaveh settles his head on Alhaitham’s shoulder and drapes an arm across his chest, relaxing against him. “Typically I shy away from the sort of submission that involves being humiliated or degraded—especially because, you know, I…have certain sensitivities, and it’s difficult to predict if something might land me in a bad headspace.

“And in general, when I submit, there’s always a part of my mind that remembers I could be the one responsible for taking care of everything. As in, I feel like I’m capable of being in control…but, not in a comforting sense. It’s this mindset where it feels like—if I’m still capable of handling things, then I should be doing that, instead of abdicating responsibility to you.”

“That makes sense,” Alhaitham says, “based on past discussions.”

“Right.” Kaveh toys with the soft hairs at Alhaitham’s nape, considering. “But, so, today—when you treated me like a helpless pet, and then when I was acting like a…like an empty-headed slut for your cock…”

“You played that part very well.”

Kaveh’s cheeks flush. “It felt like I no longer had the option of being in control. In a good way. Like I could just submit to you and stop thinking—or, no, not stop thinking. It’s that thinking wasn’t even an option. It wasn’t something I could start or stop, so all I could do was…be your pet, or your plaything, or whatever you told me to be.”

He’d only meant to share his thoughts with Alhaitham—but as he says that last part, a tautness stirs between his legs, with the tingling of blood rushing downward. Your pet or your plaything. Oh, Kaveh wants to slip into that role and sink into stupidness. He craves more of that light, free feeling.

“Sounds like a good thing, then,” Alhaitham says.

“Very,” Kaveh confirms. “It’s just, ah—I know you’re used to submitting like this, but for me, it’s still new, so I suppose I’m a bit intimidated.”

“Do we need to slow down? If things are escalating too quickly for your comfort, we can experiment with these punishments another time.”

“No, you don’t need to do that. I like how these punishments affect me. That’s why I told you that I wasn’t thinking anything negative. It’s more that…I know what to expect, now, to an extent—but at the same time, I’m still not entirely sure what to expect.”

“I see. I think the punishment I’ve planned for this evening will help you clear the mental hurdle you’ve described, similar to this morning—but it will have the opposite effect if it goes too far, so I can scale back my original plans if necessary. Would you prefer to know the details ahead of time, or would that make things more overwhelming?”

“Mm…” Kaveh already knows the pool of punishments Alhaitham is drawing from, and he also knows that Alhaitham won’t try to trick him or catch him off-guard with anything—so a comprehensive outline doesn’t seem necessary. “Maybe just a hint, for now. You mentioned a collar, right?”

“I did, yes. I’m also planning to use a leash.”

Fuck. Kaveh shifts his legs and subtly slides his hand between his thighs to rub his dick, trying to satisfy the growing ache he feels. The rim of his ass twitches with the stimulation, and he bites his lip to hold back a groan.

“And as for a hint,” Alhaitham adds, “we’ll both be getting messy, one of us more than the other.”

Messy? Well, Alhaitham had mentioned saving his load, earlier, so that must be part of it—and with the collar and leash involved, Kaveh wouldn’t be surprised if some sort of food play is in store.

Will Alhaitham have him eat out of a bowl on the floor? Kaveh has never done that before, but he’d certainly be willing to try it. A pretty little pet on all fours, licking pudding from a bowl and then washing it down with Alhaitham’s cum…oh, isn’t that a nice thought. Kaveh rubs the side of his dick and closes his eyes, imagining all the ways he could be a good boy for Alhaitham.

Alhaitham taps Kaveh’s thigh. “Does that sound alright?”

“Hm?” Kaveh blinks open his eyes, still subtly massaging himself through his trousers. “Oh, that’s—hngh—!”

He freezes. Shit. An involuntary groan from squeezing the sensitive part of his cock just right, and now he’s given himself away.

Alhaitham’s hand shoots down to grab Kaveh’s wrist, firmly pulling it away from his groin—and while Kaveh can’t see Alhaitham’s face in this position, he can feel the reprimand radiating from his stern grip. “Kaveh. Were you trying to get yourself off?”

“Ah—I mean—” Kaveh wets his lips. “I wouldn’t have let myself come, obviously—”

“How can you say that for certain? You couldn’t even hold back your voice just now, and yet you’re confident that you could have held back an orgasm?”

Kaveh should probably try to act contrite now, but his stomach flutters in excitement at Alhaitham’s tone, and he nudges his hips forward, trying to grind against Alhaitham’s thigh. He loves when Alhaitham acts like this, so self-assured and capable of putting Kaveh in his place.

“Then again,” Alhaitham says, “perhaps I’m expecting too much from a mindless pet who’s desperate for my cock.”

A weak little whine slips from Kaveh’s mouth. “Can you punish me now?” he pleads, even though the answer is guaranteed to be no, and he’s only digging himself a deeper hole by acting excited for a punishment.

“Sure.”

Kaveh’s eyes widen, and he leans back to look up at Alhaitham. “Really?”

Alhaitham’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “It won’t count as one of your four punishments, obviously,” he says, and Kaveh groans, the fingers of his captive hand curling into a frustrated fist. “But if you really want to make your edging even worse—”

“No!” Kaveh huffs and snatches his hand back. “No, thanks, I’m good.”

Alhaitham snorts. Then, with a thoughtful hum, he lowers his head to brush his lips against Kaveh’s ear. “Are you, though? Good? A good boy wouldn’t touch himself without permission.” His hands snake down Kaveh’s forearms, and he lightly grasps both of Kaveh’s wrists. “Do I need to tie these behind your back so that you won’t touch yourself?” Kaveh whimpers pathetically, and Alhaitham clicks his tongue. “Except being restrained makes your foolish dick hard, too. What can I even do, to make you behave? Even if you were hogtied and hanging from the ceiling—blindfolded, ears plugged, all by yourself—you’d still find a way to get turned on.”

Kaveh sucks in a breath, his dick throbbing desperately. “Alhaitham, please—if you keep talking like that…”

“A perfect demonstration of my point,” Alhaitham says. “All I’m doing is talking, and you’re about to come just from the sound of my voice.”

Ugh! Bullshit. Alhaitham isn’t just talking. He’s painting incredibly filthy pictures with his words, purposely conjuring fantasies that will rile Kaveh up. “You—”

“You haven’t even made it halfway through your punishments. How are you going to last through all four? Judging by the look on your face, your disobedient dick is leaking everywhere right now.”

Kaveh shifts his weight, lips pressed tight as he sharply inhales through his nose. Alhaitham is right: his dick is maddeningly sensitive against his underwear, wet and taut with a need for release.

“If I keep talking,” Alhaitham continues, “I doubt you’ll last thirty seconds before that dick becomes a twitching little mess and proves that you can’t behave.” He firmly cups Kaveh’s chin in a hand. “And bad pets get bad punishments, Kaveh.”

Kaveh shudders, feeling a bit like he might faint. He wants so badly to slip under, and let Alhaitham’s careful words guide him to satisfaction—except he isn’t allowed to have that, because he’s not supposed to come, and everything Alhaitham is doing right now is solely for the purpose of teasing him.

Alhaitham lets go of one wrist and reaches down, lightly pressing his hand against Kaveh’s crotch. “Is this what you want, then?” He rubs up and down, the movement deliciously slow and deliberate, and Kaveh struggles not to buck his hips. “You want me to touch you and talk to you like this, despite knowing that you aren’t allowed to come until tomorrow?”

Kaveh is so close to crying from a good kind of frustration, his whole body ringing with a need to be fucked. “Haitham,” he whines. “Stop talking, you—ugh, you—!”

“Oh? Would you prefer for me to be gagged? Hm, maybe I could wear one while implementing your suggestion that I fuck myself, and you could watch me bounce on a dildo and drool all over my chest. Is that better?”

“Argh! Don’t torture me! I promise I won’t touch myself without permission, alright? Are you happy now?”

An amused breath hisses from Alhaitham’s nose. He lets go of Kaveh’s wrist and removes his hand from Kaveh’s groin, his fingers instead drifting toward the triangle of skin exposed by Kaveh’s neckline. “Mm…” Lying on his side, Alhaitham rests an elbow against the couch and lazily props himself up, head resting on his other hand.

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “Now what are you thinking?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond right away, eyes narrowed slightly as he weighs his words. Finally, he brushes his fingertips against Kaveh’s sternum and says, “You have more hair here.”

“I—huh?” It takes Kaveh a moment to realize that Alhaitham has moved on from teasing him, and then he glances down at his chest. “I do?” He pinches the collar of his shirt and pulls it away from his skin, peering underneath as if the alleged hair somehow hid itself away there. “It looks as hairy as ever, to me.”

Which is to say, not particularly so. Kaveh has some noticeable hair on his chest, yes—but not enough that he’d describe himself as hairy, and that’s consistently been the case for years, at this point.

“There are new ones…here,” Alhaitham says, tapping a spot on Kaveh’s chest, “and here, and here…” He taps a few more spots, and Kaveh nearly goes cross-eyed trying to look. “Also here.”

“Are you sure you aren’t imagining things?” Kaveh says—although, now that he’s looking, he thinks Alhaitham might be right. As far as he can remember, there weren’t noticeable hairs in those particular spots, before.

Alhaitham arches an eyebrow. “With the amount of time I’ve spent studying your body? Do you doubt my memory when it comes to that?”

“No, I believe you,” Kaveh says, smiling. “But, that’s odd. Why would I suddenly be getting hairier now? My body has been the same for years, and my medication hasn’t changed at all.”

“I’ve heard of some men suddenly growing more body hair in their thirties or forties.”

“Really? Huh. Interesting.” Kaveh runs a fingertip across one of the (allegedly) new hairs above his left pectoral. “And how will you feel if my torso is suddenly covered in hair, one day?”

“I suspect I’ll be incredibly attracted to you,” Alhaitham says, smoothing his hand down Kaveh’s chest, “just as I am now. How will you feel?”

“Hm? How will…I feel? About more chest hair?” Kaveh regards his chest, considering. “I suppose that’s fine by me. I’m not certain whether I’d like how it looks or feels with some of my lingerie, but…aesthetically, I don’t think I’d be opposed.”

Alhaitham nods. “Of course, if you keep misbehaving, you won’t have to worry about how the chest hair looks with your outfits. I’ll just take away your privilege of wearing clothes and keep you naked around the house for a while.”

“Better than wearing that hideous thong,” Kaveh mutters.

“Hm? What’s that? You want me to buy more hideous thongs for you to wear?”

Kaveh groans. “I told you I’d be good,” he says. “You don’t have to threaten me with ugly underwear.”

“You did tell me that, yes. After lying to me all week about your spending.” Alhaitham raises his eyebrows, the slight curve of his lips daring Kaveh to disagree. “I suppose we’ll see this evening if you really meant it.”

Ugh. Kaveh only lied about his spending because he wanted to see how Alhaitham would punish him for misbehaving—but now he wants to see how Alhaitham will praise him for being good, so obviously he’s going to behave himself. And Alhaitham absolutely knows that, so he could just acknowledge that Kaveh is telling the truth, rather than acting as if Kaveh still needs to prove his obedience.

Kaveh sourly burrows against Alhaitham’s chest, glad that Alhaitham can’t see his pouting and tease him for it. “You know I’ll be a good boy,” he grumbles.

Alhaitham merely shakes with quiet laughter beneath him.

“I don’t think pets typically wear clothes,” Alhaitham says, pinching the collar of Kaveh’s shirt. He stands behind Kaveh in the middle of the living room, both of them facing a small collection of accessories laid out on the coffee table. “We’ll take these off.”

Kaveh wets his lips and nods, staring at the items in front of him. While the sleek black leather of the collar and leash are familiar—he’s worn them plenty of times before—the small pair of gloves sitting next to them is a new addition.

Reaching around Kaveh’s front, Alhaitham swiftly undoes the buttons of his shirt and slips it off his arms, then tosses it onto the floor in front of him. Kaveh’s trousers and underwear are the next to go, brusquely yanked down his legs and tossed into a pile with the shirt, and then Kaveh stands completely naked, unclothed the way a pet should be.

Alhaitham hums and runs his hands down Kaveh’s sides, bringing his palms to rest against Kaveh’s hips. “But pets do wear collars. Are you ready for yours?”

Kaveh nods, and Alhaitham’s hands release his hips. A moment later, Alhaitham’s fingers slip under Kaveh’s hair to loop the collar around his neck, delicately fastening it so that the soft leather comfortably hugs Kaveh’s throat.

“Does that feel alright?” Alhaitham asks, and Kaveh nods again. “Hm…let’s have you face this way.”

Staying behind Kaveh, he turns both of them around so that they’re facing the front door of the house, where the last drops of evening light seep through stained glass. Then Alhaitham reaches around and hooks a finger in the collar’s metal loop, tugging just enough that Kaveh can feel the faint pressure of his pull.

“There are probably people walking past our front door, right now,” Alhaitham says. “Some student rushing home late after studying for hours in the House of Daena—maybe one who was reading a book with annotations by Kaveh of Kshahrewar, and thinking how insightful and intelligent that writer is…” Alhaitham’s lips graze Kaveh’s ear. “Having no idea that the genius architect is a disobedient pet who’s being disciplined, standing naked and collared just a few meters away from that door.”

Kaveh’s pulse pounds between his legs, and he swallows, staring at the front door.

“No idea,” Alhaitham repeats, “unless I opened the door. Then you’d be on display for everyone to see.” His hands come to rest on Kaveh’s shoulders, firm enough to hold him in place—and Kaveh imagines having no choice but to stand here for passerby to see, a naughty pet being shamed by its owner, unable to retreat from curious stares. “Hm, maybe you’ve been disobeying me because you’re restless from sitting around for work so much. Should I take you out on a walk, so you can release all that pent-up energy? Do you want to go say hello to everyone outside?”

Oh, god. Crawling around naked for all the city to see—being paraded around as an overactive pet, with Alhaitham introducing him to any strangers they come across…

Alhaitham hums. “You haven’t earned that. Maybe another time.” His hands slip from Kaveh’s shoulders, and Kaveh hears the leash drag along the table as Alhaitham picks it up. “I’m still putting you on a leash, though. Otherwise you might run wild around the house and tear up the furniture.”

Kaveh’s pulse speeds in anticipation. He craves the feeling of that tether being pulled, the slight tension whenever Alhaitham beckons him closer with a slight tug of his hand, sometimes accompanied by a rich deep murmur of here, boy. He loves when Alhaitham has him crawl onto his lap like that, too—petting his hair and reminding him that he can’t go anywhere by himself, limited to the length of his leash.

Alhaitham reaches around and clips the leash to Kaveh’s collar, then moves to stand in front of him. The end of the leather rope is now looped around Alhaitham’s thumb, and he’s holding the pair of gloves in his other hand. “Down,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh blinks in confusion. Down…? “Down, Kaveh. On your knees.”

Oh. Right. Kaveh lowers himself onto the living room rug, acutely aware of the slack leash swinging between him and Alhaitham, signalling that Kaveh is now tethered to his side.

“I’m surprised you’re behaving,” Alhaitham says, staring down at Kaveh. “Sitting so still—I thought you’d be squirming by now.” He lowers himself into a crouch, and with the hand holding the leash, he reaches between Kaveh’s legs to run a fingertip along his cock. Kaveh’s thighs tense, resisting the urge to squirm, and Alhaitham responds with a quiet huff of laughter. “Are you still comfortable with wearing these gloves?”

Kaveh nods. A few weeks ago, he and Alhaitham had discussed different bondage ideas for his hands, to accompany the collar and leash. Kaveh had been a bit averse to the idea of completely trapping his fists in mitts—though not entirely opposed—so they’d temporarily tabled the idea for a short time, until Alhaitham serendipitously found these gloves while shopping.

The gloves cover the back of the hand while leaving Kaveh’s thumbs free, with one band of fabric that wraps around the top of his palm and another that fastens around his wrist. Above the top band are connected loops for his fingers, which somewhat restrict his ability to spread them apart—but he can still use his thumbs and uncurl his fingers, and the exposed palms allow him to feel his surroundings.

(Naturally, Alhaitham had bought a pair of these gloves for himself, too.)

Alhaitham gently takes one of Kaveh’s hands and slips his fingers through the band and loops, then tightens the wrist band and fastens it. “Does this feel alright?”

Kaveh flexes his hand, testing his mobility, and nods. Satisfied, Alhaitham slips Kaveh’s other hand into the remaining glove, and then Kaveh shifts his weight forward onto his palms, kneeling on all fours like a proper pet. He peers up at Alhaitham and wiggles his ass instinctively, craving the tail plug that they typically use—but sadly Alhaitham is keeping his word that Kaveh isn’t allowed to have anything in his ass tonight, at the expense of giving his cute pet a tail.

Alhaitham stands, and Kaveh cranes his neck back to keep Alhaitham’s face in sight. “I’ll only give you a few rules,” Alhaitham says, “because I don’t want you to think too much. First, you aren’t allowed to speak—unless you feel inclined to bark, in which case, feel free.”

Kaveh’s face burns. He’s never barked or meowed for Alhaitham, whenever they partake in this sort of thing—but he did tell Alhaitham last night that he’s willing to try, as part of a punishment. (Silently, though, he hopes that Alhaitham won’t ask him to do that; the thought is too awkward and embarrassing.)

“Obviously you can speak in order to say a safeword,” Alhaitham adds. “But I’ll also give you the clicker, in case you have trouble finding your words.” Kaveh nods. “Second, no standing up or walking on your hind legs. That’s not how pets are supposed to walk, and you could end up hurting yourself.”

Hind legs. A shiver goes through Kaveh. He really is just a powerless pet, leashed and crawling on his hands and knees, stuck with a foolish tongue that can only bark.

“And third, of course,” Alhaitham says, “you need to follow all of my commands. Otherwise I’ll assume that my pet isn’t learning his lesson, and I’ll add more punishments accordingly. Am I understood?”

Kaveh nods again.

“Good,” Alhaitham says. And only good—because Kaveh hasn’t been a good boy, and Alhaitham isn’t going to lie and call him something that he’s not.

But Kaveh wants to be a good boy. He wants Alhaitham to stroke his hair and praise him for being a perfect pet. He wants to make amends for his naughty trick, and prove that he can be a well-behaved little plaything.

“I’m going to get myself a glass of wine,” Alhaitham announces. He takes a few steps toward the hall, then lightly tugs on the leash, prompting Kaveh to crawl across the floor and sit at his feet. “Do your knees feel alright?”

Kaveh nods. He knows that knee pads are an option, if needed—but it sounds like they’re just making a quick stop at the wine cabinet before going to the bedroom, so he doesn’t think those will be necessary.

“Hm,” Alhaitham says. “My pet is surprisingly quiet this evening. Can you speak, Kaveh?”

Kaveh squints up at him in confusion. Wasn’t one of Alhaitham’s rules that Kaveh isn’t allowed to speak? Is this some sort of test?

“What’s the matter?” Alhaitham asks. “Don’t all dogs know how to bark?”

He stares down at Kaveh expectantly, and humiliation courses through Kaveh, a shameful heat rushing to settle between his legs. He ducks his head and responds with a mumbled ruff, so quiet that it’s nearly inaudible.

Alhaitham hums, sounding dissatisfied. “At least I know your voice works. Come on.”

He leads Kaveh to the wine cabinet, where he pauses to grab a bottle and glass before continuing to the bedroom. Upon entering the room, Kaveh notes that there isn’t much in the way of toys or equipment—except for two large towels spread out on the floor by the foot of the bed, and a nondescript box sitting on the mattress.

Kaveh stops in his tracks, staring at the towels and wondering what they’re for. He assumes he’ll be kneeling on the floor while Alhaitham sits in bed to drink his glass of wine, so…are the towels a callback to their conversation this morning, maybe? Is Alhaitham trying to imply that he expects Kaveh to piss on the floor like an untrained mutt?

Alhaitham sighs. “Why does my pet always look like he’s thinking so much?” He leans down and cups Kaveh’s chin in a hand. “All of those thoughts are what get you into trouble. Just focus on doing what I say—this shouldn’t require you to think at all. Can you do that?”

Kaveh nods, and tries to bring himself to bark in response—but that still feels too silly, so the sound dies in his throat.

Alhaitham crosses the room to stand on the towels, with Kaveh following at his heels. “Sit,” Alhaitham commands, and Kaveh settles into a kneeling position, paws flat against the floor between his thighs. “Good.” Alhaitham sets the wine bottle and glass on the towels, then crouches in front of Kaveh and reaches into the pocket of his trousers to pull out a clicker. “Paw?” He crooks a finger toward himself, and Kaveh lifts one paw to let Alhaitham loop the clicker around his wrist. “Can you hold it like this?” Alhaitham asks, pressing the clicker between Kaveh’s thumb and forefinger.

Kaveh clicks once for yes. With a satisfied nod, Alhaitham stands and loosely ties the leash around a bedpost, then grabs the hem of his shirt and begins stripping.

There’s no seduction or indulgence in his movements, because of course there isn’t. Why would Alhaitham put on a show right now, when there aren’t any people around to see? The only creature watching him undress is his sweet little pet—but, oh, that pet nearly salivates as Alhaitham bares his body, unveiling thick muscles and tantalizing trails of hair.

Once he’s fully naked, Alhaitham sits on the floor with his back against the bed, and curls a finger to beckon Kaveh closer. “Come here.”

Kaveh crawls over to Alhaitham and kneels beside him, watching curiously as he pours himself a glass of wine.

“Don’t worry,” Alhaitham says. “I’m willing to share.” He takes a sip and swirls the wine around the glass, almost splashing it over the rim. “But you aren’t able to drink out of a glass like a person, so…” He holds the glass just above his sternum, then carefully tips it to let a trickle of burgundy roll down his chest. “Go on. Lick.”

Oh. That’s why the towels are here.

Kaveh crawls between Alhaitham’s legs and leans in close, dragging his tongue over the tart droplets of wine on Alhaitham’s chest.

Mm. He likes this kind—a variety made by a small vineyard near Caravan Ribat, with a smooth sweetness beneath its bright fruity tang. Though Kaveh rarely drinks wine these days, this is one that he’ll happily sip from time to time, just to enjoy the flavor.

Alhaitham takes a second sip for himself, then pours another stream of wine down his torso. The drops temptingly slide toward the hair on his stomach, and Kaveh doesn’t need to be told twice—before the trickle even stops, he presses his face to Alhaitham’s abdomen and starts licking the wine from his skin.

“There you go,” Alhaitham says, petting Kaveh’s hair. A warm, tight tingling stirs between Kaveh’s legs, and he holds back a moan. “Here, have some more.”

Alhaitham pours wine over one of his nipples, and Kaveh hungrily moves his mouth to suck on it, feeling the firm bud stiffen beneath his eager lips. With an appreciative groan, Alhaitham loosely tangles his fingers in Kaveh’s hair, encouraging him to continue—and once Kaveh is finished, Alhaitham drips wine onto the other half of his chest for Kaveh to happily lick and suck.

Before Kaveh can get too carried away, Alhaitham pours more wine onto his abdomen, and Kaveh follows that trail down to his stomach, dutifully lapping up every drop. The next stream of wine after that snakes even lower, coming to a stop at the patch of hair above Alhaitham’s cock.

His thick, dripping cock, flushed and fully hard.

Kaveh swallows a whine and focuses on licking up his drink, trying to ignore the fat treat bobbing in the corner of his eye. It’s close enough that he could rub his cheek against it, if he tilted his head slightly—but he won’t dare touch his owner’s cock without permission. He needs to be good tonight.

They continue sharing the glass of wine—with Alhaitham sipping from the cup, and Kaveh licking his body—until it’s completely drained, and Kaveh sits back in relief, waiting for Alhaitham’s next instructions.

Only for Alhaitham to grab the bottle and pour himself a second glass, this one even fuller than the first. He drips the refilled cup of wine onto his chest, then looks at Kaveh expectantly.

Kaveh hesitates. He isn’t in the mood for a second glass…but he isn’t allowed to disobey Alhaitham’s commands, either. His eyes dart between Alhaitham’s face and the wine, and he gives a small shake of his head.

“You don’t want anymore?” Alhaitham asks. Kaveh shakes his head again, avoiding Alhaitham’s eyes. “Are you sure?” Kaveh nods. “Alright.” Alhaitham takes a sip from the glass and gets to his feet, his fat cock bobbing in Kaveh’s face. “Come over here.”

He directs Kaveh to a different part of the floor, still on the towels but not as close to the bed. While there’s still a bit of give to Kaveh’s leash, here, he can feel that it will be pulled taut if he moves any farther away, the tether restricting him so that he can’t wander off.

“Sit,” Alhaitham orders. Kaveh resumes kneeling like before, and Alhaitham pats a thigh with his free hand. “Up—so you can reach this.”

Alhaitham loosely grips his cock, and Kaveh’s eyes widen. He eagerly sits up on his heels, boosting his height so that his mouth can reach the treat being offered. He doesn’t try to taste it, though; he knows that he needs permission for that.

Alhaitham laughs. “Cute. Since you finished your wine, it’s time for your treat. Make sure you get every drop.”

Oh, god, yes. Kaveh has been waiting all day for this. He happily wraps his lips around the tip of Alhaitham’s cock and slowly takes the length down, down, down his throat, until his nose is buried in coarse dark curls of hair.

Kaveh inhales the scent of wine, musk, Alhaitham—and suddenly everything else turns blurry, the world narrowing to the thick cock in his mouth.

“There you go,” Alhaitham says, gently stroking Kaveh’s hair. “Just like that. Take your time.”

Kaveh carefully starts bobbing his head, his lips sliding up and down the length of Alhaitham’s cock, tongue working the shaft. Alhaitham groans with satisfaction, and Kaveh silently preens at the sound, pleased that he’s doing such a good job.

He pops his mouth off and takes a moment to admire the big flushed head, then swirls his tongue around and licks up all of the precum he can find. Suckling sweetly on the tip, Kaveh stares up at Alhaitham with big eyes, pleading for a bit of praise.

Alhaitham looks down at him with a subtle smile. “Good,” he says, and then takes a sip of wine from the glass in his hand. “Hm. I don’t feel like finishing this glass, either.” He tugs lightly at Kaveh’s hair. “Kaveh, close your eyes.”

Still suckling, Kaveh hums and obediently shuts his eyes, wondering what—

SPLAT.

Liquid splashes against Kaveh’s head, and he gasps in shock, feeling wine drip from his hair and trickle down his face and back. He splutters and pulls away from Alhaitham’s cock, eyes squeezed shut, pawing at his damp hair as a droplet of wine rolls down his cheek like a tear.

Alhaitham just dumped the entire glass of wine on his head.

Arousal blooms in Kaveh’s body, fed by the dizzying thrill of being degraded. He’s covered in wine, dripping wet, nose itching with the tart scent—and Alhaitham did that without a second thought, with no explanation, no preamble, no apology.

“Mm…” Alhaitham’s hands gently brush the remaining hair out of Kaveh’s face, and then Kaveh feels a damp cloth dab at his skin, wiping the wine away from his eyes. “This shade of red really is your color, Kaveh.” The cloth disappears, and Alhaitham adds, “You can open your eyes. And keep your paws on the floor, from now on. I don’t want you to get them dirty.”

Kaveh obediently opens his eyes and looks up at Alhaitham, who no longer has the glass in his hand; instead his strong fingers are wrapped around the shaft of his leaking cock, idly stroking it.

“Now,” Alhaitham says, “what were the other two colors we discussed? Hm…oh, right. Ivory was one, wasn’t it?”

His hand moves faster, furiously jerking his cock, and within seconds it shoots a thick load of cum at Kaveh, spurting white streaks onto his face and hair.

And, oh, there’s so much. Kaveh rarely ends up covered like this—but Alhaitham’s orgasm has been pent-up for days, and this is the result.

Finally, though, Alhaitham lets go of his twitching empty cock, his fingers glistening with white streaks…only to run those same fingers through Kaveh’s hair, combing cum through the strands.

Ugh. Kaveh cringes and burns with arousal, face twisting in a repulsed grimace, chest fluttering with excitement. He feels the impulse to reach up with a paw and stop Alhaitham, or at least try to wipe himself clean—but he remembers Alhaitham’s orders and keeps his paws firmly on the ground, fingers curled in the towel beneath him.

“Beautiful,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh’s nose wrinkles. How can he be pretty, when he feels like such a mess? “Oh, but I almost forgot—you look good in gold, too. Hold on.”

Kaveh squints at Alhaitham’s cock in confusion. He knows Alhaitham doesn’t mean…well, that, so what exactly…?

Alhaitham sighs. “I told you to stop thinking.” He reaches down and grabs Kaveh’s chin, thumb lightly digging into his cheek. “Open,” he says, and Kaveh does. “Tongue against your bottom lip. I want you to drool out all the rest of your thoughts while I go and get the rest of your treats. Understood?”

Kaveh nods, drool slipping from his lips and crawling down his chest.

“Good,” Alhaitham says.

He moves toward the bed, and Kaveh stares blankly ahead with spit pooling on his lip, telling his thoughts to drip and dribble out of his head. He’s just a mindless pet—a dumb and messy little thing—no thoughts, not one—nothing more than an eager mouth with a drooling tongue, silly and messy and dumb.

A few moments later, Alhaitham returns with a spoon and an opened jar of honey. Kaveh stares up at him, dazed and drooling, and dimly recognizes that…mm, that honey isn’t going in his mouth, is it…

“Gold accents,” Alhaitham says, dipping the spoon into the jar. “Those are a necessary component of the aesthetic, aren’t they?”

He drizzles honey onto Kaveh’s shoulder, and Kaveh’s nose wrinkles as the viscous sugar crawls down his skin, slow and thick. Honey on his skin, fine—but not his hair, please not his hair—

Alhaitham lifts the entire jar above Kaveh’s head, and…ugh, ugh, ugh. He’s pouring the honey right onto Kaveh’s hair.

This isn’t how treats should work. Treats should go in Kaveh’s mouth. But even with his tongue dumbly hanging out, not a single sweet drop of honey reaches it.

Alhaitham presses the sticky spoon to Kaveh’s nose, and Kaveh snaps his mouth shut, scowling. He wants to paw the honey off his face, but Alhaitham told him not to touch, so he can’t.

Then more honey, smeared onto his throat and legs and thighs—and Alhaitham drags the spoon over each limb to spread it, slathering Kaveh’s body as if it’s a piece of bread. His skin prickles and tingles with a dirty feeling, and all he can do is sit there while Alhaitham makes him even dirtier.

Eugh. His hair and skin, sticky and stained, covered in wine and honey and cum.

And Kaveh is turned on. Helplessly dirtied and dumb, covered in treats like an eager pet that doesn’t know how to properly eat its food.

Alhaitham returns to the box and exchanges the jar of honey for a small bowl with something red in it. “You liked the preserves this morning, didn’t you?” Alhaitham asks, scooping shiny cherries onto his spoon. “Let’s see…I think you could use some red…” He spoons the sticky preserves onto Kaveh’s chest, and Kaveh yelps. Cold, the cherries are cold. “Here, and…” Cherry on Kaveh’s arms. “Here…” A smear on Kaveh’s cheek. “And here.”

And then his thighs. His stomach. His groin. Thick sticky cherries and tart ruby syrup, staining his skin until the bowl is empty.

“Hm.” Alhaitham sets the bowl aside and regards Kaveh. “I think you need more red, still.”

He grabs the bottle of wine off the ground and tips it over Kaveh’s head, pouring more of the drink onto him. Kaveh flinches and squeezes his eyes shut as he’s doused once again, wine streaming onto his lips and dripping from his nose and chin, stray droplets tickling his skin.

The damp cloth returns, wiping Kaveh’s eyes clean. “One more thing,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh tentatively opens his eyes, watching as Alhaitham retrieves a third bowl from the bed. “My naughty pet likes cream, too, doesn’t he?”

Globs of leftover sarsheer join the mess on Kaveh’s hair and skin, filling in the few spaces that were somehow still clean. Kaveh cringes and forces himself to sit still, even though he fervently wants to squirm away from the sticky mess on his skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Alhaitham says, setting down the bowl and spoon. “I thought you liked getting yourself into messes.” He leans down and cups Kaveh’s chin in a hand, smearing his thumb through the stickiness on his cheek. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before misbehaving.”

Alhaitham pulls away from Kaveh, briefly disappearing from his line of sight, and returns a moment later with a standing mirror held between his hands.

“Do you see that?” Alhaitham asks, setting the mirror down so that Kaveh can see his reflection. “This is what you look like when you get yourself into trouble.” He moves to stand behind Kaveh, who still kneels dutifully with his paws between his thighs, silently staring at himself in the mirror. “This is what I see when you disobey—a messy little pet that can’t behave itself.”

Messy little pet.

Kaveh feels like a mess, and he looks exactly how he feels, too: face dripping with food and cum, burgundy trails of wine on his body, honey shining on his skin, hair ruined by all of the above. There’s no artful arrangement of ingredients: everything is just splattered and splashed all over him, the mess of a meal painting his body in shades of crimson and ivory and gold.

He can’t go out like this, can’t go anywhere like this. Dirty pets have to stay at home—and with the leash clipped to Kaveh’s collar, he can only sit here surrounded by this mess, the perfect picture of a disobedient thing.

Messy little pet. Silly little thing.

Kaveh parts his lips and sticks out his tongue, letting drool fall from his dumb pretty mouth. He feels a familiar feeling building inside him, again—the swell of a wave that will carry him away, if he just swims with the current a bit longer.

Alhaitham gently cards his fingers through Kaveh’s hair, spreading honey and cream and cum. “But I wouldn’t be a good owner if I cleaned up all of your messes for you,” he says. “So, lick yourself clean, Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s eyes widen, and he stares at his own shocked reflection. Lick…?

“I don’t want you dripping this mess all over my floor,” Alhaitham says. “Clean as much of it as you can with your tongue, and then I’ll let you in the shower.”

Hesitant, Kaveh lifts his arm to his mouth and drags his tongue over a piece of cherry.

Alhaitham sighs. “You’ll be here for hours, if you do it like that.” Kaveh freezes, tongue sticking out, unsure of what to do. “You’re thinking too much again,” Alhaitham continues. “You still don’t understand that you’re a mindless pet, do you? Alright. Put your paw down.”

Kaveh lowers his paw to the floor, still confused.

“Now bark, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says.

Embarrassment seizes Kaveh’s tongue, and he ducks his head, reluctantly mumbling a woof.

“Louder,” Alhaitham commands. “Like you’re a dumb little dog going for a walk, and you want all the other dogs to hear you. Stop thinking, and bark like a yappy mutt that loves being messy and loud.”

“RUFF, RUFF, RUFF!” Kaveh barks with his full voice resonating in his chest, tongue hanging out as he breathes noisily through his mouth. A yappy little mutt, barking and panting, messy and loud. “Ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff!”

“Good boy,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh’s head flutters pleasantly. “Now lick yourself clean.”

Kaveh enthusiastically begins licking his arm, tongue fast and eager, hastily lapping up the mess on his skin. He fills the quiet room with audible panting and the wet flicking of his tongue, sounding just like a little dog that’s cleaning itself.

So many flavors muddled together—not bad, not good—and it doesn’t matter, because Alhaitham’s dirty pet needs to lick himself clean. He isn’t supposed to savor these treats.

“Bark,” Alhaitham orders, and Kaveh pauses in his grooming.

“RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF!”

“Good.” Alhaitham’s reflection in the mirror begins stroking his hard cock behind Kaveh, teasingly rubbing the leaking tip against his disheveled hair. “What a cute, messy little thing.”

Kaveh moves his busy mouth higher up his arm, sinking deeper and deeper with each flick of his tongue. He needs to get clean—needs to clean his messy self, lick lick lick lick lick—

With a deep groan, Alhaitham moves to stand between Kaveh and the mirror. “Sorry,” he says. “I can’t help myself.”

His cock looms in Kaveh’s vision, and Kaveh looks up just in time to watch Alhaitham shoot another load onto him, leaving a fresh coat of cum dripping from his hair and cheeks and chest.

Kaveh splutters and scrunches his face. He isn’t even done cleaning one arm, and now he’s even more of a mess.

He nearly goes cross-eyed at the thought. Messy. He’s a messy little thing. And the messy little thing needs to lick itself clean, needs to—“RUFF RUFF RUFF!”

“Oh?” Alhaitham rubs his wet cockhead against Kaveh’s panting tongue, giving him a tiny taste of cum. “You’re quite talkative this evening. Good boy, Kaveh.”

Kaveh looks up at him with hopeful eyes and barks again. Yes, yes—he’s a good boy, a good messy boy—

“Hm,” Alhaitham says. “You aren’t making much progress with cleaning yourself up, though.”

Kaveh peers down at himself, and…oh. He’s still covered in everything.

“So you even need help with this, too?” Alhaitham asks. “Alright, then. Hold still.”

He kneels in front of Kaveh and clasps his face in both hands, then leans in and starts licking him clean.

Kaveh shivers, and his eyes start to drift shut, hazy and unfocused. Alhaitham is cleaning him with slow, precise drags of his tongue—so much more coordinated than Kaveh’s messy licking, so much smarter and better.

“Lie down on your back,” Alhaitham murmurs, pressing lightly against Kaveh’s shoulder.

Kaveh obeys, all four paws in the air as he flops back onto the towel beneath him. “Ruff, ruff!” He wiggles his hips eagerly, staring up at Alhaitham as he waits for his next command.

He’s decided that he likes barking. Barking makes his head feel nice, makes his cock get hard—

Alhaitham laughs quietly and brushes Kaveh’s tacky bangs out of his face. “Good boy,” he says.

—and barking makes Alhaitham call him a good boy.

Kaveh loves barking.

He barks some more, tongue lolling out as he pants noisily, and Alhaitham snorts. “Alright, save some of that energy for cleaning yourself. You can’t bark and use your tongue at the same time.”

Frowning, Kaveh tries to do just that, and ends up making silly noises in his throat instead. Shaking with silent laughter, Alhaitham gently takes Kaveh’s wrist and presses the dangling clicker firmly under Kaveh’s thumb. “Remember that you have this.”

Oh, right. Kaveh can click to speak, too. He clicks once with the clicker, then looks up at Alhaitham expectantly.

“Good boy,” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh bucks his hips excitedly. “Now keep licking. You aren’t done yet.”

Kaveh goes back to lapping at his arm while Alhaitham carefully climbs on top of him, dragging his tongue from Kaveh’s chest up to his neck. Alhaitham languidly kisses and sucks at Kaveh’s throat with playful nips of his teeth, and Kaveh shivers, struggling to focus.

“Good boy,” Alhaitham murmurs again, and Kaveh whines quietly, feeling a surge of arousal at the words. “Such a good boy, Kaveh.” Alhaitham reaches down and splays a hand against Kaveh’s stomach, then drags that hand lower and presses lightly, putting pressure so close, so close to where Kaveh wants his touch.

Hovering over Kaveh, Alhaitham slides down to kiss his stomach, then moves lower to lick up a cherry just above his groin. His lips unexpectedly graze Kaveh’s cock next, and a surprised moan slips from Kaveh’s mouth, along with a pleading jerk of his hips.

He barks eagerly, begging for more, and Alhaitham laughs, finally kissing and sucking Kaveh’s cock. Heat flares between Kaveh’s legs, and he stops licking to let out another moan, breath hitching as Alhaitham’s lips tug and tease.

Then Alhaitham presses one last kiss to his cock and pulls away, leaving Kaveh dazed and wanting. With firm hands, Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s ankles and forces his legs wide, spreading them apart so that he can swirl his tongue along the sensitive skin of Kaveh’s inner thighs.

Kaveh whimpers and tries to keep licking his arm, to clean himself like a good boy—but it’s so hard when Alhaitham’s warm wet mouth keeps distracting him, kissing and sucking close to Kaveh’s needy cock.

“Roll over,” Alhaitham says, tapping Kaveh’s hip, and Kaveh clumsily flips onto his hands and knees, instinctively thrusting his ass up. “Good boy.”

With a pleased wiggle of his hips, Kaveh switches to his other arm, holding it up to his mouth and eagerly lapping at the mess—and then Alhaitham’s mouth abruptly presses against his upper back, licking the same way Kaveh does, sloppy and fast like a mindless animal.

Kaveh shivers and squirms at the relentless sensation, feeling utterly filthy and dumb. With the weight of Alhaitham’s frame draped over him like that, this would be the perfect position for him to mount Kaveh and fuck him on the floor like the dirty pet he is, filling his hole until it’s dripping and stretched, a complete mess like the rest of him…

Kaveh bites back another whimper and desperately licks his arm, his cock swollen and hard, rim twitching and fluttering needily.

Suddenly Alhaitham grabs Kaveh’s ass with both hands, peeling it apart to eagerly lap at his hole. Kaveh wails in surprise, abruptly overwhelmed, and frantically wonders if he’ll accidentally come from being touched there. Stop, stop that, he thinks, whining stupidly. There aren’t any treats there!

He sighs in relief when Alhaitham’s tongue finally travels lower, dipping beneath the curves of his ass and tasting the backs of his thighs instead.

After a few minutes, Kaveh’s arms are cleaner than before, at least—but his tongue is tired and sore, and the remaining mess is too much for a silly mutt’s mouth. As much as he wants to be a good boy, he doesn’t think he can keep going.

Kaveh clicks twice, his tongue fumbling for human words. “Haitham,” he mumbles, slumping onto his forearms.

Alhaitham stops and rests a hand on Kaveh’s hip. “Are you alright?”

Kaveh nods. “Y-yes, just…too much, can’t…”

Now he’s fast crashing down from the peaks of that dizzy high, desperately searching for somewhere to land as a pent-up sob bubbles in his lungs. It’s a good release, an exit for all the stress he’s been carrying—but it’s an overpowering feeling, and he needs Alhaitham to catch him before he collides with the earth.

“Okay.” Alhaitham gently rolls Kaveh onto his back, smoothing sticky bangs out of his face. “Good boy.” He kisses Kaveh’s cheek and softly shushes him. “You did well.” He grabs one of the towels from the floor and quickly wipes Kaveh’s skin, then unhooks the collar along with the leash. Scooping Kaveh into his arms, Alhaitham stands and hefts him up off the ground. “Let’s rinse you off.”

Kaveh wraps his sticky arms around Alhaitham’s neck and nuzzles against him, eyes drifting shut as Alhaitham carries him to the bathroom. A moment later, Alhaitham carefully sets him on the counter and dims the bathroom lights, then presses kisses to Kaveh’s cheeks and lips with soft murmurs of praise.

Kaveh idly toys with his clicker while Alhaitham dabs his skin clean with a damp cloth, and when that’s done, he lets Alhaitham slip the clicker off his wrist and remove the gloves. Once the water is warm enough, Alhaitham carefully guides Kaveh into the shower, and Kaveh sighs in relief as the soothing stream rinses most of the remaining gunk off his body.

Alhaitham steps into the shower behind him, gently scrubbing a few stubborn spots on Kaveh’s skin. “I’ll wash your hair next,” he says. “Do you want a bath, too?”

A bath…mm, yes. Kaveh would like to soak and let his mind blissfully float a bit longer. “Yes,” he mumbles, leaning back against Alhaitham, and Alhaitham pauses his task to wind his arms around Kaveh and kiss his shoulder.

A short while later, Kaveh relaxes in the bath while Alhaitham’s fingers carefully untangle and comb through his hair. Kaveh is fairly certain that most of the mess is gone, now—but he still feels a bit sticky, and regardless of that, he likes feeling Alhaitham stroke his hair and gently scratch his scalp.

“Ugh.” Kaveh sighs and tilts his head back into Alhaitham’s hands. “Did you have to get honey all over my hair like that?”

“Hm.” Alhaitham’s fingers move to knead Kaveh’s shoulders. “Isn’t that an ingredient in one of your hair products?”

“Yes, but with other things,” Kaveh says, “and in case it wasn’t obvious, those other things aren’t wine and semen.”

Alhaitham snorts and resumes running his fingers through Kaveh’s hair, the strands now free of knots and stickiness. The two of them spend the next few minutes in comfortable silence, until Kaveh’s ambling mind lands on a forgotten thought from earlier.

“You know,” Kaveh says, “for half a second, when you were holding your dick and mentioned ‘gold’ during that scene, I almost thought you were referring to piss.”

Alhaitham’s hands halt. “We didn’t discuss that,” he says, with a tinge of alarm in his voice. “I wouldn’t—”

“No, no!” Kaveh interrupts. “Obviously not. That’s just the connection my brain briefly made. I didn’t actually think you would do that. I know you’d never try something without running it by me first.”

Alhaitham hums, his fingers tracing swirls and shapes on Kaveh’s back. “Is that something you’d want me to do?”

“Wh—” Kaveh jolts and twists around to face Alhaitham, who regards him placidly. There’s no gleam of amusement in his eyes, and his demeanor seems entirely sincere. “Well, no, I mean, obviously we’ve never…”

He trails off, eyes darting away as he considers. It’s true that they’ve never done that sort of thing before—but until this weekend, Kaveh had never called himself a stupid slut or let Alhaitham dump wine on him, either. The two of them are no strangers to broadening their horizons.

“We haven’t, no,” Alhaitham says, “but I’m open to exploring something like that, if you ever want to try.”

If Kaveh ever wants to try…

Could he ever want to try…?

“Um, let’s…we can revisit this once the weekend’s over,” Kaveh says. He appreciates Alhaitham’s willingness to try new things, certainly—but that offer is a bit too much for his muddled brain to think about, right now.

“Fine by me.” Alhaitham tucks a wet strand of hair behind Kaveh’s ear. “When you’re done with the bath, we should have something to eat. Is a light dinner alright, or do you want a bigger meal?”

“Mm, a small meal is fine. I’m not too hungry right now.” Kaveh scoffs. “I feel like I licked an entire dinner off myself, earlier.”

“Did that bother you?” Alhaitham asks, and Kaveh hums in confusion. “Were there any parts you didn’t like? For instance, eating all those foods at once, or licking wine off my skin?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Kaveh says. “I didn’t even register it, honestly. I was pretty deep in a submissive headspace at that point. And it helped that the foods went decently well together.” His presses his lips into a thin line, considering. “Uh, were you okay? I didn’t realize you’d be consuming the food, too.”

It occurs to him that the combination of textures might have been unpleasant for Alhaitham—and because Alhaitham specifically licked Kaveh’s face, the flavors of those foods would have been mixed with the taste and consistency of cum.

“I didn’t mind,” Alhaitham says, with a shrug. “I wouldn’t want to do that to myself, but in the context of dominating you, it was bearable.”

Kaveh hums and cranes his neck toward Alhaitham, meeting his lips in a languid kiss. “God, Alhaitham,” he murmurs, “that was filthy.” Alhaitham raises his eyebrows at the praise, and Kaveh adds, “Ah, in the future, I’d like you to…treat me like a stupid pet more often, the way you did tonight. If you don’t mind.”

“I can do that.” Alhaitham drags a fingertip down Kaveh’s lips and slowly traces the lower one, his touch tickling Kaveh’s mouth. “You’re cute when you bark, by the way.”

Instantly Kaveh stiffens with embarrassment, and he jerks back with his cheeks puffed indignantly. “Oh, shut up!” he says, splashing water at Alhaitham. “Ugh, I’m done with my bath! Give me a towel. And—and see if I ever bark for you again! Hmph.”

He stands and steps out of the tub with water streaming from his body, and even without looking at Alhaitham’s face, he can feel the amusement radiating off the man. That stupid, smug bastard—and he’s entirely right to be smug, because they both know that if Alhaitham ever tells Kaveh to bark, he will. Despite acting like a brat sometimes, he ultimately can’t resist the urge to be a good boy.

Alhaitham moves behind Kaveh to drape a towel over his shoulders, and Kaveh twists his head in Alhaitham’s direction with a performative glare. “I should have spent twice as much at the tavern,” he hisses.

To his delight, Alhaitham’s demeanor instantly shifts. His hands grip Kaveh’s shoulders with intimidating strength, and the warmth of his breath grazes Kaveh’s ear like a flame threatening to sting. “If you ever spend a single coin without my permission again, I’ll bring out the cane,” Alhaitham says, his low voice sending a shiver through Kaveh. “And then you can spend a week leashed and muzzled at my side, stuffed with a plug while you forget what it feels like to come.”

Kaveh whimpers, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. This is one of the things he loves about this dynamic: how the push and pull always ends with the thrill of Alhaitham taking control, firmly putting Kaveh in his place.

Damn it. He’s impossibly more turned on, now—and he still isn’t allowed to come.

One more day, Kaveh tells himself.

Just one more day of punishments, and then he’ll get the relief he desperately craves.