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It’s been a day of frustration for Nanook, a major deal fallen through and careless slipups from his subordinates. But the little blue sedan in his driveway, nondescript and sedate, is enough to lift his mood. Because it’s his ex-husband Khaslana’s car.
They’ve been married and divorced, twice in the past three years, the most recent divorce eleven months ago, but this happens from time to time when Khaslana is between boyfriends. During the settlement, Khaslana didn’t want their house, refusing it with a sneer, but two months later, he came back to demand joint custody of the massive, luxurious bathtub with its 10 adjustable massage jets and 12 whirlpool bubble bath jets. That’s always Khaslana’s excuse for coming—that he misses the bathtub. Half the time it’s true. The other half of the time it’s because he misses Nanook’s cock.
Or so Khaslana says. For a long while, Nanook was smugly amused that Khaslana always ended up coming back to him for this, to be roughed up in bed. But he’s long since become dissatisfied with this…situation; the novelty wore off the first time around during that initial eight-month divorce.
Letting himself into the house, Nanook climbs the steps to the second-floor landing. The door to the bath is cracked open, the sound of soft music drifting out with the soothing scent of vetiver and sandalwood, a sweet hint of vanilla.
Khaslana has his eyes closed, head resting on the pillowed ledge, his spiky blonde locks damp. He looks tired, face slightly drawn and deep shadows under his eyes, and so fucking beautiful that Nanook wants to chain him to the bed and never let him leave. Nanook leans in the doorway, taking him in.
“Get out,” Khaslana says without opening his eyes. “You’re ruining my peace and relaxation.”
“This is my house.”
Khaslana grunts. “Our bath. I’m exercising my custody rights.”
Nanook saunters over, his smirk clashing with the snap of Khaslana’s irritated glare. “Are you going to evict me, Attorney Khaslana?” Khaslana even drew up a formal contract for the bathtub custody—not that it’s enforceable, but he wouldn’t put it past the petty bastard to try. Carelessly, Nanook drops his suit jacket to the floor, Khaslana’s gaze following the motion. The tie follows, then the shirt, languidly unbuttoned, gradually falling open to reveal a sculpted chest.
“You’re such a slob. When will you learn to pick up after yourself?” Khaslana belatedly remembers to complain. “Put your damn clothes back on.”
Nanook lets the shirt slip off, settling on the wide marble bath ledge, folding one leg under himself. “Because the only part of me that you want is my cock?” he mocks, and it only comes out a little bit bitter.
“A shame it’s attached to the rest of your asshole self. I told you to get the hell ou—hnghhh,” Khaslana’s words abruptly cut off with a low groan as Nanook puts his hands on Khaslana’s shoulders, and squeezes. The sound is as much pain as pleasure, the muscles under Nanook’s palms rock hard with tension.
“You were saying?”
“Fuck,” Khaslana says, with feeling, head tipping forward for Nanook to push his thumbs up the back of his neck, digging into the muscle with deep, even pressure. “Fine, mn, your hands can stay.”
Nanook’s preferred method of melting Khaslana into putty is to fuck him into incoherence but, barring that, this is the only surefire way to bypass the mutual bitching which, while entertaining in its own right, is also rife with landmines. He’s not going to chance his luck when he hasn’t seen Khaslana in six weeks during which he: one, contemplated putting a hit out on Khaslana’s boyfriend du jour; and two, when the boytoy got dumped, considered putting a hit on the plaintiff opposing the defendant Khaslana was representing, wasting his goddamn time. It should be counted as emotional growth that he didn’t go through with either.
**
Fifteen minutes later, he has Khaslana carried in his arms, back arched against Nanook’s chest as he lowers him onto his cock, going as deep as he can every time, slow enough to make Khaslana curse and squirm. Khaslana came to be savaged, because no one does rough like Nanook—and they’ll get to that—but Nanook is determined to savor him tonight, to take him to pieces and make him admit why he’s really here.
The same reason Nanook’s door is always open for him.
The muscles in Khaslana’s forearms flex as he grabs Nanook’s wrists, threatening to break his grip. “Move. If you’re not going to give it to me, then I’ll go find someone who will.”
Nanook barks a humorless laugh and slams up into that spot Khaslana can’t resist, making Khaslana’s voice break on a moan as water sloshes over the side of the tub. “If there was someone who could, you’d be there instead.”
“Damn straight. You’re the last person I want to see,” Khaslana snarls back, vicious, drawing blood both with his words and with the nails clawed into Nanook’s arms. Khaslana’s subsequent downward yank on Nanook’s wrists nearly gets him free to flip them and take what he wants, but Nanook nails him just right with three punishing thrusts, softening him up, and sinks his teeth into the inked sun on his neck.
There is blood on Nanook’s lips when he pulls Khaslana’s head back by the hair, slamming their mouths together in a brutal kiss. “But there isn’t anyone else, is there.”
To that, Khaslana has nothing more to say.
**
Spread out on their bed, cheeks flushed and chest heaving for breath, Khaslana is a vision. His legs are hooked over Nanook’s shoulders, hands braced against the headboard as he’s shoved up the bed, getting it as good as he was promised, pitched sounds punched out of him with every thrust.
Nanook’s hand closes over Khaslana’s throat. “I bet that little bitch Aiden couldn’t give it to you this good.” His grip tightens, driving into Khaslana, ratcheting him higher. “Admit it.”
“Not—Ah!—Not everything is about sex, bas—tard—fuck!”
Something about the smug triumph in Nanook’s expression sets Khaslana off, has him snarling with fury. Nanook has him pinned, but Khaslana twists his lower body, knowing Nanook won’t use his hold on his neck. Nanook releases him, jerking back so he isn’t taken out by Khaslana’s knee to his head (it’s happened before). Nanook blocks a strike, nearly takes a heel to his crotch, and then Khaslana somehow gets him by the throat and slams Nanook down onto the bed, eyes blazing.
“He gave me what you never could.”
Khaslana’s lip curls into a contemptuous sneer as Nanook’s expression goes stonily blank. Gripping Nanook’s cock, he throws a leg over his hips and sinks down, trapping Nanook under him, daring him to do something.
A year and a half ago, Nanook might’ve taken him up on it, but he knows better now. Not when he’s struggling to control his temper. There’ve been… accidents, on both sides, and it’s always too late for remorse when the damage has already been done.
Nanook isn’t the only one who’s learned. Seeing Nanook under him, tense and refusing to engage, Khaslana sucks in a sharp breath. Jaw tight, he closes his eyes, getting a grip on himself. When he opens them, the golden fury has been tamed to a banked flame. “Stop talking if you want to fuck. All I want from you is your cock,” he spits, meaning it.
Those words should make Nanook laugh with contempt, the same as it did before. Instead, they sink their claws into him, tearing him up. “I know.” The curl of his lips is bitter, and he doesn’t know why it’s this that makes Khaslana flinch.
This is what they’re best at: hurting each other in ways no one else can.
The kiss that Khaslana takes from Nanook is filled with frustration and the many things unspoken between them.
**
If someone told Nanook two years ago that he’d one day be trying to fuck some honesty into someone, he would’ve laughed in that person’s face. But that’s exactly what he’s trying to do now.
He finally has Khaslana where he wants him, on his back, wrists pinned above his head in Nanook’s grip, limp and pliant beneath him.
Not that it stills that mouth of his.
“The—the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Khaslana gasps. The taut muscles of his stomach tremble, his thighs hanging weakly over Nanook’s hips.
It’s been a gradual progression to get Khaslana here, throwing Khaslana off by starting slow, then going at him hard until his entire body went soft and yielding. And now that Khaslana is too fucked out to fight, Nanook is making love to him, rocking into him, slow and deep. It’s this that Khaslana can’t stand, shuddering and trying to twist away, eyes starting to mist over. “I don’t want this,” he hisses, lies, his voice shaky as his body opens up to tenderness in a way no amount of rough handling can. When Nanook leans down for a kiss, he turns his face away. Undiscouraged, Nanook noses his cheek, trails kisses down his neck, leaving marks. “This isn’t what, ah, I came here for, Nanook.” Khaslana’s chest heaves. He tries to knee Nanook, tries to clench his pelvic muscles to make him move, but he doesn’t have the strength left to do either, unable to stem the devoted onslaught. “Fuck you, say something.” It comes out nearly a plea.
Khaslana wanted Nanook to shut up. He’s getting what he asked for. Since that moment, Nanook hasn’t said a single word, has barely made a sound even as he takes him so sweetly. Khaslana isn’t the only one who can be petty.
This was all you wanted from me, wasn’t it? Nanook thinks, vicious and unrelenting, his face an inch from Khaslana’s and Khaslana’s lips tremble, reading the accusation in his eyes.
“No,” Khaslana speaks in a hush, and says no more, stubborn, but he doesn’t turn away from the kiss this time, opening for him.
It takes longer before Nanook manages to break Khaslana down, even knowing how to do it now.
“Please,” Khaslana finally asks. His eyes shimmer, but his face is dry, holding back until the end.
“Was this all you wanted from me?” Nanook demands harshly, and refuses to acknowledge what it is in his voice that has Khaslana’s tears finally spilling over.
“No,” Khaslana says, breath hitching on a small sob. “No.” When Nanook releases his wrists, Khaslana reaches for him, holding him close, moving with him. “I wanted you.” Khaslana whispers the confession into the space between them, sharing breaths as they work together, slow pleasure gently building.
“Me too,” Nanook admits, eyes closing as he rests their foreheads together. “I just want you.”
**
After they’ve cleaned up, Khaslana lays on his side, facing away, but draws Nanook’s arm around his waist. Nanook curls against Khaslana’s back, pulling him in snug.
The number of times Nanook has spoken his native tongue in their years together can be counted on one hand. Those memories of the homeland are deeply interred and best left forgotten. He’s not sure what slips him up today. “You could just say you missed me, habibi.” He should try to make it teasing, but it just comes out tired.
“…Who would,” Khaslana mutters, but he keeps his face turned into the pillow.
Sliding his hand over, Nanook slips their fingers together. When there’s no objection, when Khaslana entwines his fingers with his own, Nanook realizes that he was right, that Khaslana does miss him.
They’re both exhausted enough to instantly drop off, one more than the other, but Nanook can tell from the rhythm of Khaslana’s breathing, his small unconscious movements, that he’s still awake. He waits a few minutes, so Khaslana can claim to be asleep.
“Just let me say this once. You can pretend you didn’t hear it,” Nanook says, soft and hoarse. “Come home already, habibi.” He rests his forehead on the back of Khaslana’s neck. “Inta omri,” he whispers into the dark. He feels Khaslana tense in his arms, trying to suppress a shudder, and his own breathing goes unsteady because of course Khaslana understood.
Khaslana’s eventual reply has him letting out a silent sigh of defeat.
“Go to sleep, Nanook.”
Nanook tells himself he doesn’t feel anything, that it’s just another manipulation in this game they play… except it hasn’t been a game to him for a long time now.
He’s already drifting off when he feels Khaslana bring Nanook’s palm to his lips, the few words he speaks enough to move Nanook’s jaded soul.
“Ba'di anta faqad ibtada't dilwa't akhaf la al-'omr yigri.”
(Only since you, have I begun to fear the passing of time.)