[FRENEMIES WITH BENEFITS REAL. The benefit right now being that Kaveh didn't beat Alhaitham over the head with his wrench because he's been halfway underneath the car since it limped back into the garage. Kaveh is often mindful of his language--he is just one member of a team, and it is their efforts that help Alhaitham seize victory time and again--but at times like this, he doesn't hesitate to tear into Alhaitham for the damage he does to his car, ruining his hard work and nearly sending his baby into early retirement.
Only a few minutes ago did he finally emerge, uncaring of the hair falling from his ponytail and the oil smeared on his face and arms. He's still not looking at Alhaitham; he's got his clipboard on the hood of the car, and he's furiously taking notes on it as they speak. Notes which are probably actually detailed information about repairs and not just ALHAITHAM IS THE WORST scribbled over and over. Probably. He is, however, gripping his pen very tightly, and his tone is certainly not a happy one.]
Nothing you do is ever just what was necessary. Do you have any idea what your control arm bushings look like? Your cut-off valves will have to be replaced, not to mention the rear wing is hanging on by a thread because of the way you clipped M194 on that last turn. [He doesn't even have to mention the damages to the side of the car, nor the tires, if only because he already yelled about it earlier.] You're lucky we were able to take care of your break pads on the track, or we wouldn't even be having this conversation.
[It's not about the car, really. It's never about the car. But Kaveh doesn't have the words to describe the way his heart had seemed to stop at the crunch of metal against metal, the way he's only able to stay calm and shout orders at the sight of flames because his mind wholly rejects thoughts of Alhaitham's mortality during a race.
(Alhaitham needs his focus, after all. Not his feelings.)
Only after, once all is quiet, does he allow his heart to take over. Once Alhaitham's standing on solid ground, more-or-less unscathed and almost always victorious--that's when Kaveh can give in to his emotions, when all that latent terror converts to fury and passion. He can't say I was worried, I didn't think you'd make it to us in time, I wish you wouldn't take such insane risks. That's not the relationship they have. So--it's about the car.]
[ Alhaitham has his mora, the fame he doesn't want, his pick of the litter in every facet of his life except this. Nevermind the thrill of victory—the thing he wins because he's the best there is, so they say. Once all is quiet, with his body buzzing from his brushes with danger, Alhaitham brings himself to Kaveh's workshop and drags Kaveh into the nearest shadow.
It's the adrenaline, Kaveh says once after they finish. Alhaitham doesn't refute it because it's not technically wrong. Adrenaline and hopeless, bestial attraction to everything Kaveh is. Only one of them gives Alhaitham the excuse he needs to take what should be his.
Right now, Alhaitham's body feels line it's on fire. Sweat pearls over his skin where he'd haphazardly wiped it with a rag. Alhaitham's eyes catch on the slip of skin between the lower crown of Kaveh's hair and the high collar of his shirt. He floats forward and circles his hands over the small ring of Kaveh's waist. Under Alhaitham's palms, the rayon is blessedly damp from the day's work. Alhaitham curls his fingertips in a little, feeling tight muscle resist underneath them.
HOW. How is Kaveh this shape. How can anyone in this shop even work with Kaveh around. (They know he's Alhaitham's. That's why.) ]
I'll pay for the repairs as usual. There's no point in dwelling on what might've happened.
[ Alhaitham tilts his head and closes a slow, open-mouthed kiss over the nape of Kaveh's neck, savoring the taste of salt and smoke under his tongue. If he'd been more careless, Alhaitham would've lost this for good. It shouldn't, but the thought heightens every one of his senses. He murmurs: ]
[It's not really a surprise--in fact, Kaveh would be hard-pressed to find anything more consistent than this. From the moment the door slams shut behind the last of his crew members and the two of them are left alone, Kaveh's blood begins to simmer, anticipation threading through his veins. He doesn't turn to look at the sound of Alhaitham's footsteps, but he doesn't have to. Every part of him is acutely attuned to Alhaitham's presence, so much that Kaveh could pinpoint his location from the shifts in the air alone.
Still, his hand stutters as Alhaitham's hands close around his waist, a line of ink blooming across the paper in the wake of his pen. At the hot press of Alhaitham's mouth, he sighs, forcing himself to sound irritated instead of breathless.]
Your so-called financial freedom can't save you from your own decisions, you lunatic. [His displeasure is wholly genuine--but he's muttering instead of yelling, now, and he jams the pen into its place on the clipboard, so his mood could be worse. He'd already discarded his shorter work glove earlier in order to write; now, he abandons his notes entirely and turns around in Alhaitham's hold, tugging his goggles off of his head and looping them over his arm. He's still glaring at Alhaitham through his lashes, but the flush on his face is too prominent to be from his work earlier.]
I'm still mad at you. [IN CASE THAT WASN'T OBVIOUS ENOUGH. But he reaches up to drag Alhaitham into a kiss, rough and urgent and an utter betrayal of the true depth of his emotions.]
[ Alhaitham gets a second-long glimpse at Kaveh blushing and pouting, legs spread over the hood. It would look less dignified on anyone else, but not on lean, oil-streaked, messy-haired Kaveh, who could be as dangerous as the racetrack itself if he put his mind to it. Alhaitham should be wary of Kaveh's temper; instead he relishes in it, just as he does when he competes. Their arguments are little competitions in themselves. Alhaitham doesn't win every one of them, but each time Kaveh yanks him down and desperately crushes their lips together, it feels like a victory.
Alhaitham catches himself on his hands before he falls against Kaveh's chest. A thrill shoots up his entire body, and for a moment he breaks the kiss in lieu of a smirk. He adores it too much when Kaveh is irritated with him.
Finally, Alhaitham cants his head and forces another kiss with the same roughness and urgency, pushing Kaveh's head back against the hood of the car. He climbs one knee against the metal and bears his hips down where they square against Kaveh's. Kaveh's coveralls are bunched heavily at his waist; it takes effort to rut through the layers of clothes, grinding Kaveh's cock towards his stomach. Thankfully Alhaitham's done this dance time and time again in the time that they've worked together.
Alhaitham works downwards, kissing his chin, his jaw. Kaveh's scent hangs like a halo around his skin. Alhaitham feels heady from it, laps it from his throat. ]
You look good. [ He pushes his fingers into Kaveh's messy hair, gathers it in a fist, and pulls back to bare more of his throat. Alhaitham? Being nice? It's more likely than you think. ] More than usual.
[Kaveh chose his outfit for his work, but it would be a lie to say he hadn't known, to some degree, the effect it would have. This is the last time, Kaveh's told himself over and over--and yet, this has happened enough that Kaveh's intimately familiar with what makes Alhaitham tick. Alhaitham's kisses are always a little more demanding when he puts his hair up, his hold always a little tighter when he ties his jacket around his hips. The high collar of his shirt is for protection, and he'll definitely complain when he walks out of here with marks he can't hide--but that won't stop him from choosing it again next time.
It helps that all throughout the race, no one could look at him and know how deeply affected he was. Between his clothes and his gear, he could hide his reactions to the way the fabric of Alhaitham's suit stretches over his body, to the easy grace with which he swings himself in and out of the driver's seat. No one could look at him and know that the satisfied curl of Alhaitham's mouth was burned into his mind, and he could, so long as he kept himself busy, happily maintain a conversation without revealing that his gaze was constantly pulled towards the gleam of silver in the distance.
...Without revealing it to others, anyway. To Alhaitham? Who knew. Kaveh's always had the impression that he could be a continent away, and Alhaitham would still be able to see right through him. But it doesn't matter. When Alhaitham is the one pressing him against the hood of the car, hungry and insistent, Kaveh can hold onto his lie of one last time and pretend he won't be just as ravenous for Alhaitham's attention tomorrow.
He hadn't bothered to take his long glove off, but he can't bring himself to care--they're both dirty anyway, and it's not about to get any better. He buries his hands in Alhaitham's hair and muffles a soft moan against his lips, grinding back against him as best he can.]
You can't--ngh--sweet-talk your way back into my good graces. [His grumbling is broken by a sharp inhale, and he immediately contradicts himself with the way he lets Alhaitham drag his head back, arching his neck and digging his nails into Alhaitham's nape. He feels feverish with want; every scrape of Alhaitham's teeth and flick of his tongue, every press of Alhaitham's hips to his serves as a reminder that Alhaitham is safe and well. After all--he'd never do this with anyone else.]
Alhaitham normally delivers these compliments prescriptively. Today, there is an edge of something behind it—the exhilaration from this last race, maybe. Whatever it is makes Alhaitham fold himself over Kaveh's body like they were made to fit together, filling all negative space.
In truth, winning competitions pales in comparison to bending Kaveh over the hood of a car or riding him in the driver's seat. (More likely, he'd let Kaveh take his waist and do the work for him.) It matters that Kaveh spreads oil and soot in his hair, that the nails of his bare hand dig crescents into the back of Alhaitham's neck. If it didn't, he wouldn't tear off his helmet and fuck Kaveh in the shop sooner than meet with the press or rest in his laurels. With both of them filthy from the day's work, it's that much easier to abandon propriety and give into his visceral needs.
That, and Kaveh looks so impossibly good like this. Kaveh knows that he does. Alhaitham's teased him about Kaveh's intentionality before, how he seems to continue doing the things that cause him grief. Kaveh will bypass the accusation somehow, maybe with an excuse or a bite or by pulling up his trousers. They still meet one another in the empty garage at the end of the day, all greedy hands and hungry mouths. Kaveh's hair will be perfectly imperfect, his jacket will be tied around his irresistible hips, and Alhaitham will still sink his teeth onto some unmarked spread of Kaveh's skin.
He does this now, nosing past the high collar of Kaveh's shirt to bite down onto the side of his neck. He breathes Kaveh in, tastes him with the tip of his tongue, and sucks until the skin is hot between his teeth. His free hand slides down Kaveh's chest and stomach until he can quickly and blindly open the seam of his pants.
Alhaitham smiles. Bridging himself on his arm, still grasping Kaveh's hair, he leans up until he can meet the deep reds of Kaveh's eyes, his face painted in black streaks and sweat. Gorgeous. ]
You're not mad enough if you're already like this. [ He roughly runs the length of his fingers over the length of Kaveh's cock, growing hard at the front of his boxers. Alhaitham's smile runs further up one edge of his mouth. ]
[The press of Alhaitham's teeth draws a hiss from him, as it always does. Knowing it's coming does nothing at all to cool his blood. It's the way Alhaitham strolls so casually over his lines, disrupting the sand they're drawn in--the easy disregard of boundaries he'd somehow known Kaveh wanted him to push.
It's almost funny, Kaveh thinks, how boldly possessive Alhaitham can get--as if Kaveh is the superstar between them, as if he garners any attention at all outside of the niche little world of his field. Alhaitham has so much already. He could have so much more, if ever he was in the mood to take it. But every time, he chooses to come here--to shamelessly disregard all the fame and fortune in the world in order to bury himself, body and soul, into Kaveh. It's like he can't ever get enough. Like he needs to make it abundantly clear that he has everything he wants already, and anyone looking to interfere with that should give up immediately.
It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. Kaveh can't stand him. Can't imagine life without him.
That sharp, bright gaze, the mussed hair, the knowing smirk--it's all too much, and Kaveh breaks first. He turns his head to the side, toes curling in his work boots at the pull of his hair. He doesn't tell Alhaitham to let go, twisting uselessly beneath him to chase the contact of his fingers.]
Shut up before I really get mad. [But Alhaitham's not wrong. Kaveh isn't even fussing about doing this on the car, an argument they've had a thousand times. He's too busy dragging his hands down Alhaitham's front, bypassing everything else to go for his waistband. The goggles banging against his arm are a little annoying, but even caught up in arousal, he's too much of a workaholic to drop them on the ground; the same can't be said for the clipboard, which definitely slid off and landed on the floor already.]
[ The clatter of the clipboard and the skittering of Kaveh's pen is as distant as the rest of the world. Because Alhaitham is terrible, he stops his hand briefly to slide the goggles from Kaveh's arm and lets those fall to the ground too. He shuts up any complaints with a hard, hungry kiss. ]
You say that every time. [ He murmurs, punctuating by squeezing Kaveh's length between his fingers. ] You need this as badly as I do.
[ Alhaitham will always say the hard truths out loud, even when Kaveh doesn't want to hear it. There's only one truth Alhaitham hasn't manifested into words despite thinking them at every brush with death. Alhaitham thought of it again at the end of this race, and he's thinking it now, heart hammering in his chest.
He leans back, supporting himself on his legs as he pulls Kaveh's pants and boxers to his knees. Alhaitham kisses Kaveh's collarbone, the center of his chest, and finally over one nipple standing beneath the fabric of his shirt. He would suck Kaveh off, but his patience is already wearing thin. ]
Do you have something? [ Lube, or a condom. He'd better. ]
[HIS GOGGLES!!! Alhaitham might muffle them, but Kaveh definitely makes indignant noises about it anyway, and he bites Alhaitham's lower lip when they break apart.
Unfortunately, Alhaitham's right about this, too. Kaveh should shove him off and check on his gear, but instead, he presses his forehead to Alhaitham's jaw, panting against his neck with every stroke of his long fingers. He should refuse to indulge Alhaitham, should put his foot down and force Alhaitham to listen to him--but instead, his hands find their way beneath that perfectly fitted uniform, confident in familiarity. It's probably embarrassing, the pleasure he derives just from taking Alhaitham in hand, but he's too keyed up to care. It's too easy to lose track of what he's supposed to be upset about when he's engulfed in Alhaitham like this.
That doesn't stop him from dropping his head back and pursing his lips in response to Alhaitham's question, though. It's not like he won't say the answer, but still... he hates proving Alhaitham right...]
I won't next time if you aren't more careful with my things. [TCH. Maybe he should leave them behind next time anyway, just to prove a point.] ...Behind you, in the red drawer. [The one labeled with his name, because Kaveh does technically share this space with other people, even if they all know it's basically his. He squeezes Alhaitham's cock--not meanly, but not too gently, either--and sinks his teeth into Alhaitham's collarbone for a moment, then withdraws with a groan and pushes him back.] Hurry.
[ He'll just get Kaveh new goggles? 🙄 And sure you will Kaveh
Hurry. The little betrayal of Kaveh's eagerness is worth the sharp pain in Alhaitham's lip, Kaveh's torturous hand squeezing over his cock. He staggers back at Kaveh's push, collarbone throbbing where Kaveh made his mark. Alhaitham catches himself on his feet, leaving Kaveh disheveled on the hood of the car. From his new vantage, he sees Kaveh in his entirety, flushed from kissing, caked in soot and oil, half-undressed and wanting.
The thought comes in a instant—of climbing back onto the hood of the car, of forgoing the opportunity to fuck to make Kaveh fall apart with Alhaitham's mouth and hands until he has nothing left to give. Kaveh's insistence is all that makes him abandon the impulse.
Later. He finally turns around and fishes out the familiar bottle of lube and a condom wrapped in purple plastic. He hesitated before the condom goes into his pocket, and Alhaitham begins to pour a generous amount of lube in his fingers before he joins Kaveh back on the car. He doesn't even close the drawer.
Alhaitham doesn't speak, instead surging his lips against Kaveh's with a sharp inhale as though he held his breath while they were apart. As Alhaitham bends one of Kaveh's thighs up against his side, a wet finger searches and prods at his entrance before slipping inside down to the knuckle. He lets it rest, lets Kaveh adjust, before he works it at a steadily growing pace.
He brushes his lips to Kaveh's cheek and murmurs: ]
I'm not doing this with anyone else.
[ It seems out of left field, but there's a point to it. Another finger slips inside, and Alhaitham lifts his head to watch Kaveh intently, even slows the pace of his fingers, stroking long, deep lines against Kaveh's prostate. ]
[YOU CAN JUST BUY YOUR WAY OUT OF TROUBLE, ALHAITHAM.
Fortunately, Alhaitham doesn't irritate him further. He doesn't go far enough for Kaveh to do anything but prop himself up on his elbows, but he does exactly that, catching his breath and letting his gaze rake over Alhaitham's tall frame. He could probably get his boots and pants all the way off if he really rushed, but they can't linger here, really--the chances of anyone barging in on them are low, but Alhaitham will be wanted sooner rather than later, and Kaveh's always turned him over to his work without mercy once their skin has cooled and their pulses have settled. He's not about to change that now, no matter how beautiful Alhaitham looks.
(He couldn't even if he wanted to. He won't allow himself that kind of sentimentality, especially not when he wants it so badly.)
He's rapidly losing his grip on his earlier anger, though. Alhaitham rejoins him with a breathless kiss, and Kaveh pulls him close with a complete lack of patience, letting himself fall back against the car and dragging Alhaitham down with him. It's not comfortable, but he doesn't care, far more concerned with sucking Alhaitham's lower lip into his mouth, with using Alhaitham's tongue to keep himself quiet as Alhaitham presses into him.
When Alhaitham breaks the kiss, Kaveh lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. He's too focused on steadying his breathing, on shifting his hips to help Alhaitham find that perfect angle, that the question catches him completely off guard.]
You--huh? [His eyes flutter back open in confusion, but he catches Alhaitham's intent gaze just as Alhaitham adds a second finger, and he can't stop himself from gasping at the combination. His hands had come to rest under Alhaitham's shirt, and they flex uselessly against his back now, as if Kaveh is trying to physically pull his focus back together.] What are you talking about?
[Alhaitham wants him to think coherently? In these conditions??]
The condom. Unless I have a reason for it, I'm not wearing it this time.
[ They'd spoken about their tests coming out clean, albeit after the first time they had sex, and since then they'd been safe when it came to penetration. Though the thought twisted his stomach into unrelenting knots, Alhaitham never assumed that he was Kaveh's only partner. Kaveh could be dense about the attention he receives from the rabble around him, but he could still find release in other people that won't just fuck him at work.
It isn't fair that Alhaitham acts like Kaveh is his. He shouldn't purposely leave so many marks on Kaveh's peach-soft skin where others can see it. He shouldn't close his hand over Kaveh's long and beautiful neck and make him gasp words that sound like love. He shouldn't delude himself into believing those words even for a moment. They shouldn't make him come as often as they do. Kaveh isn't his.
But after this close brush with death, Alhaitham needs him. He closes his lips over the ball of Kaveh's throat, feeling every syllable hum against his lips. He quickens the pace of his fingers, eventually adding a third. His half-hard cock drips precome in long threads over Kaveh's stomach. ]
[Of course Alhaitham would do this now, Kaveh would complain, if he had the breath for it. Of course he would wait until Kaveh is at his mercy, losing his mind with every pointed curl of Alhaitham's long fingers. Between the weight of his gaze and his relentless pace, Kaveh can barely catch his breath; he certainly isn't the mood to be having a conversation, especially not after the stunt Alhaitham pulled on the track.
But Kaveh's mind is never truly silent. He's almost never fully lost in pleasure, even when he's keyed up beyond belief. He processes Alhaitham's words too quickly to pretend like he didn't, a flush spreading over his face at the clear implications.
It's just Alhaitham being selfish, he'll tell himself later. When his skin is cool and he's alone with his thoughts again, it'll be easy to brush this off as self-centered arrogance. Alhaitham taking what he wants, as usual, with only the barest of courtesies to keep them both safe. Later, he'll remind himself that they're not lovers--that they're barely even friends, despite the unshakeable trust they place in each other with every race. Right now, though...
There's something in Alhaitham's tone. Something about the way his mouth finds Kaveh's throat. Something in his words that sounds like--]
Shit--[A jerk of his hips brings him up against Alhaitham, and the brush of Alhaitham's cock against his drags a gasp out of him, scattering his thoughts like dewdrops kicked off of flower petals. Yanked violently back into himself, he shifts, sliding his hands out from Alhaitham's shirt and instead burying one in his hair, the other finding its way down between Alhaitham's legs. His thoughts are banished, and there's the barest hint of viciousness in his touch, like he's trying to shove them further away by being more aggressive with Alhaitham.]
I thought I told you to shut up. [He still has it in him to grumble even when his legs won't stay still, when the slightest shift of Alhaitham's wrist could have him seeing stars in an instant. Despite his words, his touch is gentle as he wraps his fingers around Alhaitham and strokes, just the way he knows Alhaitham likes it best. Muttered--] ...Yeah. It's fine.
[He can't bring himself to say any more than that. Can't make it sound like it means anything, like it's anything more than a convenient coincidence. He can't let Alhaitham realize that his clinging isn't just driven by the physical--he can barely confront the terror he feels at the thought of losing Alhaitham, even in a non-literal sense. He barely even lets himself think about his own feelings. If he shows too much and Alhaitham is repulsed (or worse, unmoved), Kaveh doesn't know what he'll do.
Alhaitham can't know how much of Kaveh's world is him. But even for pretenses, Kaveh won't deny him this indulgence. Not when he needs it too.]
[ Yeah. It's fine. Even if Kaveh's intention is different, Alhaitham reads the answer as noncommittal—definitely not what Alhaitham wants to hear. It's not I've only ever slept with you since we met. It's You can fuck me raw. The risk you take is up to you.
Kaveh maintains that separation between them and it hurts. There's only a brief flash of that disappointment on Alhaitham's face before it's overtaken; it twists and slackens as Kaveh works his cock in his hand. Kaveh's hands are one of Alhaitham's favorite parts about him—deft, expert, intentional, gentle or unrelenting when the situation calls for it. They've made a trembling, slick mess of Alhaitham before, shiny with sweat and smeared with grime, and now they quickly bring him to fullness.
But he doesn't want to come just yet. He finally draws his fingers out from Kaveh, lubricant dripping from his knuckles, and slides them underneath Kaveh's hand to quickly oil his cock. Alhaitham slides back from the car hood onto his feet, and after he finds his footing, he pulls off and haphazardly tosses Kaveh's somewhere on the floor, not caring where. Kaveh's pants are next, shoved down to Kaveh's ankles as Alhaitham presses open-mouthed kisses to his thigh, the inner corner of his knee. He only manages to yank Kaveh's clothes from one leg before he climbs up the hood once again, diving down to catch Kaveh in a heavy, hungry kiss as his hips bear down.
Throughout all of this, Alhaitham is different than usual. Where he would be somewhat arrogant, teasing, bringing Kaveh to his breaking point for his own pleasure, he instead reflects Kaveh's urgency, frustrated at how many barriers are still between their bodies. He slides one hand up Kaveh's back, arching him upward to meet their chests. The other cards in his hair, pulling again to tilt his head. He bites Kaveh's lip, pries open his mouth, and licks deeply inside, searching for his taste. His thoughts are fogged with impatience and greed.
Alhaitham isn't an insecure person wallowing in self-doubt and perceived inadequacy. He knows precisely what he wants and that his own value has little to do with taking it. There is evidence that Kaveh wants him back just as badly. They wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. Until now, Alhaitham held back on actively pursuing him only for Kaveh's own sake, knowing that his misfortune and toils and history made it difficult for him to accept anyone's affections.
But, again, Alhaitham could have lost everything. He isn't concerned with his legacy or belongings, and there's no one left alive who would mourn him. There's only Kaveh and what could have been and how foolish it is to remain dishonest and ignore what makes Alhaitham feel whole. ]
[Alhaitham doesn't speak, and despite the pleasure that still flows between them, Kaveh isn't oblivious to the shift in the air. Something makes his stomach curl in inexplicable guilt, but it's impossible to focus long enough to figure out what, exactly, it is. Alhaitham's fingers are too clever, and Kaveh is too desperate to feel him, unable to figure out the words he wants and unwilling to pull away long enough to try.
(It's for the best, anyway. It would only make a mess of things, and then they'd both be left unsatisfied, bitter, and angry. That's not what either of them need right now.)
It's easier to push his doubts away once Alhaitham withdraws. The air shifts again, but in a different way--it's charged, frenetic in a way that transcends their usual haste. Kaveh can barely keep up as Alhaitham strips him further, his hands falling back to the hood of the car to keep himself balanced. When Alhaitham rejoins him, it's all Kaveh can do to keep himself on his elbows, caught up in the tide of Alhaitham's lust as he molds their bodies together and drinks Kaveh's sounds directly from his lips.
Kaveh's never been passive, though. He isn't one to be overwhelmed by Alhaitham's force, and that's certainly isn't about to change now--not when it took so long for his heart rate to slow earlier, even after he'd seen Alhaitham emerging from the flames unscathed. He meets Alhaitham's fervor with his own, parting his lips and coaxing Alhaitham's tongue into his mouth with his own, uncaring of the trail of spit that slips down his chin. He hooks his hand around the back of Alhaitham's neck, using him for stability as he reaches for Alhaitham's cock again. He doesn't bother with any more teasing strokes. Instead, he simply shifts until there's no space left between them, urging Alhaitham inside of him.
One last time, he's always said, even though he doesn't need to look, because he knows exactly how they fit together. One last time, except Kaveh hasn't thought about anyone else like this for as long as he can remember. One last time, because they barely get along, because he's been burned too many times before, because Kaveh thought he would rather die than disrupt their flawless synergy on the track, the one good thing he's been able to cling to as he desperately tries to turn his life around--but that was before Alhaitham almost did die, and perspective is an ever-changing thing.
Kaveh doesn't want to think about that, though. He doesn't want to think anymore at all, at least for a little bit. So he sucks Alhaitham's lip into his mouth and bears his hips down, his nerves alight with anticipation at the promise of skin on slick, warm skin.]
[ This, at least, is a language they can speak well. They show their desperation through bites, tongues, scraping nails and fingertips. Kaveh takes hold of his cock and the obvious impatience makes Alhaitham shudder, feeling himself swell as Kaveh presses Alhaitham against his entrance. When Kaveh bears down, Alhaitham's hips tilt upward to meet it until he pushes deeply inside.
Alhaitham abruptly ends their kisses in thin strings of spit, barely managing to swallow. His eyes screw shut as he groans, reaching to grasp Kaveh's thigh as their hips pull flush together. He wants desperately to fuck him, make Kaveh see stars and beg him to slow down. It takes most of his willpower not to.
It helps that when he finally opens his eyes, brows still furrowed, Kaveh is there. His hair is loose and fanned out around him. His skin is shiny with sweat, slicked with oil, and it makes his eyes shine like clear, clean rubies. His throat bobs with every breath. His neck is spotted with bites and bruises. He looks gorgeous, all of him, so much that it aches.
Alhaitham wants this to be his. Hearts don't work this way, acquiescing to other people's fervent desires, but he can't help it.
With the tips of his fingers, Alhaitham lifts Kaveh's head from the hood of the car. He slips his hand through Kaveh's hair, shielding the back of his head from the metal behind it. He mouths kisses against the side of Kaveh's neck, dragging his lips upward until they reach his ear. He still smells the smoke, tastes the sweat and ash against his lips. ]
Kaveh.
[ He mutters between labored breaths. Kaveh's name spins in his head, over and over. His knees ache against the hood, taking on all of his weight as he rolls his hips, steady and slow. He savors the tightness as it sucks him in, pushing until he's completely sheathed in Kaveh's body before pulling back out to the head. ]
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I don't even drive so I apologize in advance for the nonsense in this tag
Only a few minutes ago did he finally emerge, uncaring of the hair falling from his ponytail and the oil smeared on his face and arms. He's still not looking at Alhaitham; he's got his clipboard on the hood of the car, and he's furiously taking notes on it as they speak. Notes which are probably actually detailed information about repairs and not just ALHAITHAM IS THE WORST scribbled over and over. Probably. He is, however, gripping his pen very tightly, and his tone is certainly not a happy one.]
Nothing you do is ever just what was necessary. Do you have any idea what your control arm bushings look like? Your cut-off valves will have to be replaced, not to mention the rear wing is hanging on by a thread because of the way you clipped M194 on that last turn. [He doesn't even have to mention the damages to the side of the car, nor the tires, if only because he already yelled about it earlier.] You're lucky we were able to take care of your break pads on the track, or we wouldn't even be having this conversation.
[It's not about the car, really. It's never about the car. But Kaveh doesn't have the words to describe the way his heart had seemed to stop at the crunch of metal against metal, the way he's only able to stay calm and shout orders at the sight of flames because his mind wholly rejects thoughts of Alhaitham's mortality during a race.
(Alhaitham needs his focus, after all. Not his feelings.)
Only after, once all is quiet, does he allow his heart to take over. Once Alhaitham's standing on solid ground, more-or-less unscathed and almost always victorious--that's when Kaveh can give in to his emotions, when all that latent terror converts to fury and passion. He can't say I was worried, I didn't think you'd make it to us in time, I wish you wouldn't take such insane risks. That's not the relationship they have. So--it's about the car.]
i drive and i still barely know what a car is dw
It's the adrenaline, Kaveh says once after they finish. Alhaitham doesn't refute it because it's not technically wrong. Adrenaline and hopeless, bestial attraction to everything Kaveh is. Only one of them gives Alhaitham the excuse he needs to take what should be his.
Right now, Alhaitham's body feels line it's on fire. Sweat pearls over his skin where he'd haphazardly wiped it with a rag. Alhaitham's eyes catch on the slip of skin between the lower crown of Kaveh's hair and the high collar of his shirt. He floats forward and circles his hands over the small ring of Kaveh's waist. Under Alhaitham's palms, the rayon is blessedly damp from the day's work. Alhaitham curls his fingertips in a little, feeling tight muscle resist underneath them.
HOW. How is Kaveh this shape. How can anyone in this shop even work with Kaveh around. (They know he's Alhaitham's. That's why.) ]
I'll pay for the repairs as usual. There's no point in dwelling on what might've happened.
[ Alhaitham tilts his head and closes a slow, open-mouthed kiss over the nape of Kaveh's neck, savoring the taste of salt and smoke under his tongue. If he'd been more careless, Alhaitham would've lost this for good. It shouldn't, but the thought heightens every one of his senses. He murmurs: ]
Not right now.
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Still, his hand stutters as Alhaitham's hands close around his waist, a line of ink blooming across the paper in the wake of his pen. At the hot press of Alhaitham's mouth, he sighs, forcing himself to sound irritated instead of breathless.]
Your so-called financial freedom can't save you from your own decisions, you lunatic. [His displeasure is wholly genuine--but he's muttering instead of yelling, now, and he jams the pen into its place on the clipboard, so his mood could be worse. He'd already discarded his shorter work glove earlier in order to write; now, he abandons his notes entirely and turns around in Alhaitham's hold, tugging his goggles off of his head and looping them over his arm. He's still glaring at Alhaitham through his lashes, but the flush on his face is too prominent to be from his work earlier.]
I'm still mad at you. [IN CASE THAT WASN'T OBVIOUS ENOUGH. But he reaches up to drag Alhaitham into a kiss, rough and urgent and an utter betrayal of the true depth of his emotions.]
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Alhaitham catches himself on his hands before he falls against Kaveh's chest. A thrill shoots up his entire body, and for a moment he breaks the kiss in lieu of a smirk. He adores it too much when Kaveh is irritated with him.
Finally, Alhaitham cants his head and forces another kiss with the same roughness and urgency, pushing Kaveh's head back against the hood of the car. He climbs one knee against the metal and bears his hips down where they square against Kaveh's. Kaveh's coveralls are bunched heavily at his waist; it takes effort to rut through the layers of clothes, grinding Kaveh's cock towards his stomach. Thankfully Alhaitham's done this dance time and time again in the time that they've worked together.
Alhaitham works downwards, kissing his chin, his jaw. Kaveh's scent hangs like a halo around his skin. Alhaitham feels heady from it, laps it from his throat. ]
You look good. [ He pushes his fingers into Kaveh's messy hair, gathers it in a fist, and pulls back to bare more of his throat. Alhaitham? Being nice? It's more likely than you think. ] More than usual.
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It helps that all throughout the race, no one could look at him and know how deeply affected he was. Between his clothes and his gear, he could hide his reactions to the way the fabric of Alhaitham's suit stretches over his body, to the easy grace with which he swings himself in and out of the driver's seat. No one could look at him and know that the satisfied curl of Alhaitham's mouth was burned into his mind, and he could, so long as he kept himself busy, happily maintain a conversation without revealing that his gaze was constantly pulled towards the gleam of silver in the distance.
...Without revealing it to others, anyway. To Alhaitham? Who knew. Kaveh's always had the impression that he could be a continent away, and Alhaitham would still be able to see right through him. But it doesn't matter. When Alhaitham is the one pressing him against the hood of the car, hungry and insistent, Kaveh can hold onto his lie of one last time and pretend he won't be just as ravenous for Alhaitham's attention tomorrow.
He hadn't bothered to take his long glove off, but he can't bring himself to care--they're both dirty anyway, and it's not about to get any better. He buries his hands in Alhaitham's hair and muffles a soft moan against his lips, grinding back against him as best he can.]
You can't--ngh--sweet-talk your way back into my good graces. [His grumbling is broken by a sharp inhale, and he immediately contradicts himself with the way he lets Alhaitham drag his head back, arching his neck and digging his nails into Alhaitham's nape. He feels feverish with want; every scrape of Alhaitham's teeth and flick of his tongue, every press of Alhaitham's hips to his serves as a reminder that Alhaitham is safe and well. After all--he'd never do this with anyone else.]
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[ Stay mad!
Alhaitham normally delivers these compliments prescriptively. Today, there is an edge of something behind it—the exhilaration from this last race, maybe. Whatever it is makes Alhaitham fold himself over Kaveh's body like they were made to fit together, filling all negative space.
In truth, winning competitions pales in comparison to bending Kaveh over the hood of a car or riding him in the driver's seat. (More likely, he'd let Kaveh take his waist and do the work for him.) It matters that Kaveh spreads oil and soot in his hair, that the nails of his bare hand dig crescents into the back of Alhaitham's neck. If it didn't, he wouldn't tear off his helmet and fuck Kaveh in the shop sooner than meet with the press or rest in his laurels. With both of them filthy from the day's work, it's that much easier to abandon propriety and give into his visceral needs.
That, and Kaveh looks so impossibly good like this. Kaveh knows that he does. Alhaitham's teased him about Kaveh's intentionality before, how he seems to continue doing the things that cause him grief. Kaveh will bypass the accusation somehow, maybe with an excuse or a bite or by pulling up his trousers. They still meet one another in the empty garage at the end of the day, all greedy hands and hungry mouths. Kaveh's hair will be perfectly imperfect, his jacket will be tied around his irresistible hips, and Alhaitham will still sink his teeth onto some unmarked spread of Kaveh's skin.
He does this now, nosing past the high collar of Kaveh's shirt to bite down onto the side of his neck. He breathes Kaveh in, tastes him with the tip of his tongue, and sucks until the skin is hot between his teeth. His free hand slides down Kaveh's chest and stomach until he can quickly and blindly open the seam of his pants.
Alhaitham smiles. Bridging himself on his arm, still grasping Kaveh's hair, he leans up until he can meet the deep reds of Kaveh's eyes, his face painted in black streaks and sweat. Gorgeous. ]
You're not mad enough if you're already like this. [ He roughly runs the length of his fingers over the length of Kaveh's cock, growing hard at the front of his boxers. Alhaitham's smile runs further up one edge of his mouth. ]
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It's almost funny, Kaveh thinks, how boldly possessive Alhaitham can get--as if Kaveh is the superstar between them, as if he garners any attention at all outside of the niche little world of his field. Alhaitham has so much already. He could have so much more, if ever he was in the mood to take it. But every time, he chooses to come here--to shamelessly disregard all the fame and fortune in the world in order to bury himself, body and soul, into Kaveh. It's like he can't ever get enough. Like he needs to make it abundantly clear that he has everything he wants already, and anyone looking to interfere with that should give up immediately.
It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. Kaveh can't stand him. Can't imagine life without him.
That sharp, bright gaze, the mussed hair, the knowing smirk--it's all too much, and Kaveh breaks first. He turns his head to the side, toes curling in his work boots at the pull of his hair. He doesn't tell Alhaitham to let go, twisting uselessly beneath him to chase the contact of his fingers.]
Shut up before I really get mad. [But Alhaitham's not wrong. Kaveh isn't even fussing about doing this on the car, an argument they've had a thousand times. He's too busy dragging his hands down Alhaitham's front, bypassing everything else to go for his waistband. The goggles banging against his arm are a little annoying, but even caught up in arousal, he's too much of a workaholic to drop them on the ground; the same can't be said for the clipboard, which definitely slid off and landed on the floor already.]
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You say that every time. [ He murmurs, punctuating by squeezing Kaveh's length between his fingers. ] You need this as badly as I do.
[ Alhaitham will always say the hard truths out loud, even when Kaveh doesn't want to hear it. There's only one truth Alhaitham hasn't manifested into words despite thinking them at every brush with death. Alhaitham thought of it again at the end of this race, and he's thinking it now, heart hammering in his chest.
He leans back, supporting himself on his legs as he pulls Kaveh's pants and boxers to his knees. Alhaitham kisses Kaveh's collarbone, the center of his chest, and finally over one nipple standing beneath the fabric of his shirt. He would suck Kaveh off, but his patience is already wearing thin. ]
Do you have something? [ Lube, or a condom. He'd better. ]
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Unfortunately, Alhaitham's right about this, too. Kaveh should shove him off and check on his gear, but instead, he presses his forehead to Alhaitham's jaw, panting against his neck with every stroke of his long fingers. He should refuse to indulge Alhaitham, should put his foot down and force Alhaitham to listen to him--but instead, his hands find their way beneath that perfectly fitted uniform, confident in familiarity. It's probably embarrassing, the pleasure he derives just from taking Alhaitham in hand, but he's too keyed up to care. It's too easy to lose track of what he's supposed to be upset about when he's engulfed in Alhaitham like this.
That doesn't stop him from dropping his head back and pursing his lips in response to Alhaitham's question, though. It's not like he won't say the answer, but still... he hates proving Alhaitham right...]
I won't next time if you aren't more careful with my things. [TCH. Maybe he should leave them behind next time anyway, just to prove a point.] ...Behind you, in the red drawer. [The one labeled with his name, because Kaveh does technically share this space with other people, even if they all know it's basically his. He squeezes Alhaitham's cock--not meanly, but not too gently, either--and sinks his teeth into Alhaitham's collarbone for a moment, then withdraws with a groan and pushes him back.] Hurry.
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Hurry. The little betrayal of Kaveh's eagerness is worth the sharp pain in Alhaitham's lip, Kaveh's torturous hand squeezing over his cock. He staggers back at Kaveh's push, collarbone throbbing where Kaveh made his mark. Alhaitham catches himself on his feet, leaving Kaveh disheveled on the hood of the car. From his new vantage, he sees Kaveh in his entirety, flushed from kissing, caked in soot and oil, half-undressed and wanting.
The thought comes in a instant—of climbing back onto the hood of the car, of forgoing the opportunity to fuck to make Kaveh fall apart with Alhaitham's mouth and hands until he has nothing left to give. Kaveh's insistence is all that makes him abandon the impulse.
Later. He finally turns around and fishes out the familiar bottle of lube and a condom wrapped in purple plastic. He hesitated before the condom goes into his pocket, and Alhaitham begins to pour a generous amount of lube in his fingers before he joins Kaveh back on the car. He doesn't even close the drawer.
Alhaitham doesn't speak, instead surging his lips against Kaveh's with a sharp inhale as though he held his breath while they were apart. As Alhaitham bends one of Kaveh's thighs up against his side, a wet finger searches and prods at his entrance before slipping inside down to the knuckle. He lets it rest, lets Kaveh adjust, before he works it at a steadily growing pace.
He brushes his lips to Kaveh's cheek and murmurs: ]
I'm not doing this with anyone else.
[ It seems out of left field, but there's a point to it. Another finger slips inside, and Alhaitham lifts his head to watch Kaveh intently, even slows the pace of his fingers, stroking long, deep lines against Kaveh's prostate. ]
Are you?
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Fortunately, Alhaitham doesn't irritate him further. He doesn't go far enough for Kaveh to do anything but prop himself up on his elbows, but he does exactly that, catching his breath and letting his gaze rake over Alhaitham's tall frame. He could probably get his boots and pants all the way off if he really rushed, but they can't linger here, really--the chances of anyone barging in on them are low, but Alhaitham will be wanted sooner rather than later, and Kaveh's always turned him over to his work without mercy once their skin has cooled and their pulses have settled. He's not about to change that now, no matter how beautiful Alhaitham looks.
(He couldn't even if he wanted to. He won't allow himself that kind of sentimentality, especially not when he wants it so badly.)
He's rapidly losing his grip on his earlier anger, though. Alhaitham rejoins him with a breathless kiss, and Kaveh pulls him close with a complete lack of patience, letting himself fall back against the car and dragging Alhaitham down with him. It's not comfortable, but he doesn't care, far more concerned with sucking Alhaitham's lower lip into his mouth, with using Alhaitham's tongue to keep himself quiet as Alhaitham presses into him.
When Alhaitham breaks the kiss, Kaveh lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. He's too focused on steadying his breathing, on shifting his hips to help Alhaitham find that perfect angle, that the question catches him completely off guard.]
You--huh? [His eyes flutter back open in confusion, but he catches Alhaitham's intent gaze just as Alhaitham adds a second finger, and he can't stop himself from gasping at the combination. His hands had come to rest under Alhaitham's shirt, and they flex uselessly against his back now, as if Kaveh is trying to physically pull his focus back together.] What are you talking about?
[Alhaitham wants him to think coherently? In these conditions??]
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The condom. Unless I have a reason for it, I'm not wearing it this time.
[ They'd spoken about their tests coming out clean, albeit after the first time they had sex, and since then they'd been safe when it came to penetration. Though the thought twisted his stomach into unrelenting knots, Alhaitham never assumed that he was Kaveh's only partner. Kaveh could be dense about the attention he receives from the rabble around him, but he could still find release in other people that won't just fuck him at work.
It isn't fair that Alhaitham acts like Kaveh is his. He shouldn't purposely leave so many marks on Kaveh's peach-soft skin where others can see it. He shouldn't close his hand over Kaveh's long and beautiful neck and make him gasp words that sound like love. He shouldn't delude himself into believing those words even for a moment. They shouldn't make him come as often as they do. Kaveh isn't his.
But after this close brush with death, Alhaitham needs him. He closes his lips over the ball of Kaveh's throat, feeling every syllable hum against his lips. He quickens the pace of his fingers, eventually adding a third. His half-hard cock drips precome in long threads over Kaveh's stomach. ]
I want to know how you feel.
can't* buy wow imagine proofreading tags
But Kaveh's mind is never truly silent. He's almost never fully lost in pleasure, even when he's keyed up beyond belief. He processes Alhaitham's words too quickly to pretend like he didn't, a flush spreading over his face at the clear implications.
It's just Alhaitham being selfish, he'll tell himself later. When his skin is cool and he's alone with his thoughts again, it'll be easy to brush this off as self-centered arrogance. Alhaitham taking what he wants, as usual, with only the barest of courtesies to keep them both safe. Later, he'll remind himself that they're not lovers--that they're barely even friends, despite the unshakeable trust they place in each other with every race. Right now, though...
There's something in Alhaitham's tone. Something about the way his mouth finds Kaveh's throat. Something in his words that sounds like--]
Shit--[A jerk of his hips brings him up against Alhaitham, and the brush of Alhaitham's cock against his drags a gasp out of him, scattering his thoughts like dewdrops kicked off of flower petals. Yanked violently back into himself, he shifts, sliding his hands out from Alhaitham's shirt and instead burying one in his hair, the other finding its way down between Alhaitham's legs. His thoughts are banished, and there's the barest hint of viciousness in his touch, like he's trying to shove them further away by being more aggressive with Alhaitham.]
I thought I told you to shut up. [He still has it in him to grumble even when his legs won't stay still, when the slightest shift of Alhaitham's wrist could have him seeing stars in an instant. Despite his words, his touch is gentle as he wraps his fingers around Alhaitham and strokes, just the way he knows Alhaitham likes it best. Muttered--] ...Yeah. It's fine.
[He can't bring himself to say any more than that. Can't make it sound like it means anything, like it's anything more than a convenient coincidence. He can't let Alhaitham realize that his clinging isn't just driven by the physical--he can barely confront the terror he feels at the thought of losing Alhaitham, even in a non-literal sense. He barely even lets himself think about his own feelings. If he shows too much and Alhaitham is repulsed (or worse, unmoved), Kaveh doesn't know what he'll do.
Alhaitham can't know how much of Kaveh's world is him. But even for pretenses, Kaveh won't deny him this indulgence. Not when he needs it too.]
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Kaveh maintains that separation between them and it hurts. There's only a brief flash of that disappointment on Alhaitham's face before it's overtaken; it twists and slackens as Kaveh works his cock in his hand. Kaveh's hands are one of Alhaitham's favorite parts about him—deft, expert, intentional, gentle or unrelenting when the situation calls for it. They've made a trembling, slick mess of Alhaitham before, shiny with sweat and smeared with grime, and now they quickly bring him to fullness.
But he doesn't want to come just yet. He finally draws his fingers out from Kaveh, lubricant dripping from his knuckles, and slides them underneath Kaveh's hand to quickly oil his cock. Alhaitham slides back from the car hood onto his feet, and after he finds his footing, he pulls off and haphazardly tosses Kaveh's somewhere on the floor, not caring where. Kaveh's pants are next, shoved down to Kaveh's ankles as Alhaitham presses open-mouthed kisses to his thigh, the inner corner of his knee. He only manages to yank Kaveh's clothes from one leg before he climbs up the hood once again, diving down to catch Kaveh in a heavy, hungry kiss as his hips bear down.
Throughout all of this, Alhaitham is different than usual. Where he would be somewhat arrogant, teasing, bringing Kaveh to his breaking point for his own pleasure, he instead reflects Kaveh's urgency, frustrated at how many barriers are still between their bodies. He slides one hand up Kaveh's back, arching him upward to meet their chests. The other cards in his hair, pulling again to tilt his head. He bites Kaveh's lip, pries open his mouth, and licks deeply inside, searching for his taste. His thoughts are fogged with impatience and greed.
Alhaitham isn't an insecure person wallowing in self-doubt and perceived inadequacy. He knows precisely what he wants and that his own value has little to do with taking it. There is evidence that Kaveh wants him back just as badly. They wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. Until now, Alhaitham held back on actively pursuing him only for Kaveh's own sake, knowing that his misfortune and toils and history made it difficult for him to accept anyone's affections.
But, again, Alhaitham could have lost everything. He isn't concerned with his legacy or belongings, and there's no one left alive who would mourn him. There's only Kaveh and what could have been and how foolish it is to remain dishonest and ignore what makes Alhaitham feel whole. ]
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(It's for the best, anyway. It would only make a mess of things, and then they'd both be left unsatisfied, bitter, and angry. That's not what either of them need right now.)
It's easier to push his doubts away once Alhaitham withdraws. The air shifts again, but in a different way--it's charged, frenetic in a way that transcends their usual haste. Kaveh can barely keep up as Alhaitham strips him further, his hands falling back to the hood of the car to keep himself balanced. When Alhaitham rejoins him, it's all Kaveh can do to keep himself on his elbows, caught up in the tide of Alhaitham's lust as he molds their bodies together and drinks Kaveh's sounds directly from his lips.
Kaveh's never been passive, though. He isn't one to be overwhelmed by Alhaitham's force, and that's certainly isn't about to change now--not when it took so long for his heart rate to slow earlier, even after he'd seen Alhaitham emerging from the flames unscathed. He meets Alhaitham's fervor with his own, parting his lips and coaxing Alhaitham's tongue into his mouth with his own, uncaring of the trail of spit that slips down his chin. He hooks his hand around the back of Alhaitham's neck, using him for stability as he reaches for Alhaitham's cock again. He doesn't bother with any more teasing strokes. Instead, he simply shifts until there's no space left between them, urging Alhaitham inside of him.
One last time, he's always said, even though he doesn't need to look, because he knows exactly how they fit together. One last time, except Kaveh hasn't thought about anyone else like this for as long as he can remember. One last time, because they barely get along, because he's been burned too many times before, because Kaveh thought he would rather die than disrupt their flawless synergy on the track, the one good thing he's been able to cling to as he desperately tries to turn his life around--but that was before Alhaitham almost did die, and perspective is an ever-changing thing.
Kaveh doesn't want to think about that, though. He doesn't want to think anymore at all, at least for a little bit. So he sucks Alhaitham's lip into his mouth and bears his hips down, his nerves alight with anticipation at the promise of skin on slick, warm skin.]
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Alhaitham abruptly ends their kisses in thin strings of spit, barely managing to swallow. His eyes screw shut as he groans, reaching to grasp Kaveh's thigh as their hips pull flush together. He wants desperately to fuck him, make Kaveh see stars and beg him to slow down. It takes most of his willpower not to.
It helps that when he finally opens his eyes, brows still furrowed, Kaveh is there. His hair is loose and fanned out around him. His skin is shiny with sweat, slicked with oil, and it makes his eyes shine like clear, clean rubies. His throat bobs with every breath. His neck is spotted with bites and bruises. He looks gorgeous, all of him, so much that it aches.
Alhaitham wants this to be his. Hearts don't work this way, acquiescing to other people's fervent desires, but he can't help it.
With the tips of his fingers, Alhaitham lifts Kaveh's head from the hood of the car. He slips his hand through Kaveh's hair, shielding the back of his head from the metal behind it. He mouths kisses against the side of Kaveh's neck, dragging his lips upward until they reach his ear. He still smells the smoke, tastes the sweat and ash against his lips. ]
Kaveh.
[ He mutters between labored breaths. Kaveh's name spins in his head, over and over. His knees ache against the hood, taking on all of his weight as he rolls his hips, steady and slow. He savors the tightness as it sucks him in, pushing until he's completely sheathed in Kaveh's body before pulling back out to the head. ]
You're perfect. You feel so good.