The company had slept well into the night, and Hafa woke the next morning in a tangle of limbs sandwiched between Makarim, Rani and Ru'a. Careful not to wake them, Hafa extracted himself from the siblings and met with Najiya in the hall, who had woken earlier than anyone else. While the rest of their friends slept, Hafa and Najiya braved the city in disguise in order to buy supplies, clothes and food for the house. They even managed to locate Hafa's camel, who had been wandering outside the city waiting for his master's return. As there would be no feasible place to keep a camel that wouldn't draw attention, Hafa was forced to unload the bags that Makarim had packed and let the creature wander freely, hoping that when everything was over, the animal might return to him.
Three undisturbed days passed.
Despite the situation, they were relatively stress-free days; collectively the men were striving to keep the twins happy and healthy, most notably Makarim, who was smiling and laughing to cover up the fact that he didn't want to. It was paying off. Rani and Ru'a were keeping busy helping with duties around the communal buildings at the request of Asilah, who doted on the twins shamelessly and often showered them with love. The twins were very fond of her in return, and even helped cook dinner for everyone on the second night. Although Hafa wasn't very fond of human cooking, (he had lived on a steady diet of mackerel as a djinn, and while wandering the desert he had always died of dehydration before having to worry about finding food,) he found the meal to be delicious, and the twins were immensely proud of themselves.
When the twins weren't being distracted with chores, the men were keeping them occupied with games and stories. Hafa recognized immediately that Makarim was stretching himself too thin; he was so worried about the mental well-being of his siblings that he hadn't yet taken a single minute for himself. Every night Hafa waited for the twins to fall asleep so that he might address this, but Makarim would always succumb to exhaustion just after his siblings closed their eyes, and Hafa didn't have the heart to wake him.
It was on the third night that Hafa decided he would talk to Makarim. After dinner, Najiya, Reem, Makarim and the twins had disappeared upstairs while Hafa sought advice from Asilah about how to approach the subject. Asilah assured him that any way he chose to broach the topic would be fine, and that he just needed to be himself. Hafa wasn't sure the advice was useful. He had no idea who or what he was anymore, so being himself seemed like a daunting task.
Hafa returned upstairs to find their room empty. He checked Najiya and Reem's room to find the aforementioned asleep with the twins, all four of them sleeping around a wooden game board littered with pieces that Hafa didn't recognize. Makarim was not among them, and so Hafa quietly closed the door and began his search. He had a pretty good idea where he was heading.
The balcony on the third building was the most secluded. It directly faced the sloping dunes that used to be cultivated by ocean winds some time ago, but now the sand was shaped by time and dry sandstorms. The waning moon shone high in the sky, casting luminous light on Makarim's form as he leaned on the railing, watching the endless desert as a light breeze mussed his hair. He was dressed in a plain, off-white kurta and pants, matching Hafa's own in light-blue. Next to him was a basket of everyone's clothes- freshly cleaned, from the looks of it- and he had strategically hung some clothing on the railing to dry. Hafa stepped onto the balcony without a sound.
Makarim turned when he felt eyes on him. His mouth pulled into something like a smile, but it was weak and vaguely forced.
"Oh, Haru," he said, taking his weight off of the iron rail, "I was thinking of going to see where you'd gone. You were downstairs for so long, I wasn't sure if you needed help with anything or not."
"I was helping Asilah with some things." Hafa said. Half-truths. "Reem and Najiya fell asleep playing with the twins."
Makarim chuckled. "I know. I was gathering up the last of the laundry when I found them all in there. It's probably for the best, Ru'a is a horrible loser, and that's really not her best game."
Hafa walked to the railing, his hand sliding over the cool metal. "You could have asked for some help with the laundry," he said gently. "I would have been happy to help."
Makarim leveled him a suspicious look. "From what I recall, you hate doing chores, and laundry was your least favorite."
"Things are different now," Hafa answered with a frown that came off as more of a pout. "you can't go doing everything by yourself."
Makarim's smile faded, and he nodded, looking back out at the dunes. "I know," he said somberly. "I think I'm just keeping myself busy to distract myself."
"From everything else?"
"Yeah."
A stronger breeze billowed, rustling the laundry that was hanging on the rail and obscuring Hafa's vision as raven hair blew over his eyes. He raked his hair back, so accustomed to his keffiyeh keeping his face safe from wind and weather that it almost felt foreign to do so.
"Makarim," Hafa started, attempting to be himself against his better judgment, "are you… Okay? You've been so worried about the twins, that you..."
"I have to be worried about the twins, Haru," Makarim said seriously. "They're depending on me. I'm all they've got, now."
"You still have to grieve." Hafa pointed out. "You're human. It's integral to the healing process, isn't it?"
Makarim looked away. "I don't…" He sighed deeply, leaning his forearms against the rail. "I don't know how."
Hafa watched him closely. He understood the sentiment. There were still so many things that were a complete mystery to him, so many emotions that he was constantly discovering. Grieving was something he'd observed in humans, but he'd never known what it truly felt like. Even now, the death of Makarim's father held no real emotion for him. It wasn't to say that he was unfeeling about the matter, but it was the effect that his death was having on his children that wrung Hafa's heart. Watching them suffer his loss was painful in many new ways.
"It still doesn't feel real," Makarim admitted, hanging his head. "I saw his body with my own eyes, but it feels like it was a dream. Like I was looking at him through someone elses eyes. No one spoke a prayer for him, we only just barely managed to give him a proper shroud-"
"There wasn't any time for that." Hafa said gently.
"There was no finality. No burial, no real time to mourn..." Makarim sighed heavily, and his shoulders swelled and sagged. "No goodbye." he finished, barely audibly.
Hafa was uncertain of what to say. Times like this were proof that he lacked the sensitivity to understand and reassure these sorts of emotions with any show of efficiency. What he felt and what came out of his mouth tended to be two different animals, and presently a memory had floated to the surface and was demanding attention.
"When you were much younger, a woman used to accompany you to the water with the other children," Hafa said. Makarim's head swiveled in his direction, listening avidly. "She was lovely. She never pressured you to get into the water, and she comforted you when the other children jeered."
"I can't believe you can remember something like that." Makarim said in amazement. "Your memory is outstanding."
Hafa shook his head. "Actually, I'm forgetting more and more every day," he admitted, "but I can remember you, for some reason. That woman was your mother, wasn't she?"
Makarim smiled warmly at the memories. "Yes. She passed away right after the twins were born."
"You had to be strong for your infant siblings, even back then," Hafa speculated. "No wonder you don't know how to grieve."
"So long as Rani and Ru'a are safe and happy, my needs aren't important," Makarim offered feebly.
Hafa flashed him a glare. "But they are," he said. He seized the sleeve of Makarim's kurta tightly in his hand. "they are to me. And Rani and Ru'a, too. They want you to be just as healthy and happy."
"Haru…" Makarim's face was dusted pink, eyes glinting with emotion.
"Tell me what you need," Hafa demanded resolutely. "Just tell me."
Makarim stared at Hafa in surprise for a long moment, as if he had never been asked something like that before, which perhaps he hadn't. He turned back to face the desert, his expression dissolving into something uncharacteristically listless.
"My grandfather used to tell me about an unseen world where djinn live, parallel to the mortal plane. He told me it was one of the Seven Heavens."
He spoke haltingly, his words almost strained, but Hafa listened attentively, not entirely certain where he was heading.
"What of it?" Hafa implored him to continue.
"Is it.. Is it real?" the man asked, his voice small. "Is something like that real, or is it just a story?"
The marid blinked steadily at Makarim, processing his question. These things were always difficult, and he never quite knew the best way to answer.
"It's real, I suppose," Hafa mused, releasing the sleeve and mirroring Makarim by staring out at the dunes. "I don't know about there being seven of them, though. It isn't exactly how the texts describe."
"What is it like? Is it nice?"
Hafa looked down, blue eyes focused on the gently fluttering laundry. "It's hard to explain…"
"Try." There was a desperation in Makarim's voice that took Hafa slightly off-guard. "Please."
It was difficult to recall something so surreal in a mortal body, with such a tragically limited mortal vocabulary. He felt that so much of his djinn existence had been lost he might not even be remembering it correctly, but he understood why Makarim wanted to know, and so he tried his best to piece together the confusing mess of memories. Figuring out how to convey them into words was just as trying.
"It comes with a certain weightlessness," Hafa started, Makarim staring above them at the sky, "it overlaps this world, but it isn't a piece of it. You become part of everything. All matter comes together, and you can travel anywhere you want in the blink of an eye. There is no confinement, no time to restrain you. Light and darkness exist in pockets, drawn together in tight clusters that you can touch and scatter. Everything is slowed down and sped up. All parts of your life are existing at once, and you can spread yourself so far that you might touch the other end of the sky."
A soft chuckle emanated from his left. "That's terribly poetic," Makarim mused.
Hafa frowned peevishly. "It's hard to describe in words."
"I think you did it beautifully." Makarim put in. He distractedly wrung his hands together. "Do you think… My father is somewhere like that, now? With my mother?"
This was a moment where Hafa was unsure whether or not to offer that false reassurance he knew humans were so fond of. He opted for being himself. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'd like to think so," he added, with equal honesty.
A time passed in silence. It was comfortable, as silence with Makarim often was. Although he had been trying his best to ignore it, Hafa was being steadily ground down by something he wanted to say, something he felt he needed to say, and he could feel it welling up impatiently at the back of his throat.
"I'm worried." Makarim's voice pulled Hafa from his thoughts. "The longer we stay here, the more likely it is we'll be found. We're putting these good people in danger…"
"Asilah is aware of our situation," Hafa answered. Makarim shot him a despondent look. "Well, most of our situation. She knows that you're wanted for arrest, anyway. She's willing to risk it."
"I can't allow her to." The man sighed pitiably. "I have to figure out what to do, but being here is so good for Rani and Ru'a right now. They feel safe here. We have some form of security, a place to lay our heads down. But we can't live here forever. Not with Sharik looking for this…" Makarim fondled the ring around his finger, frowning at it. Without thinking, Hafa grabbed his sleeve again, this time to turn him around to face him.
"Makarim." he said firmly, drawing a surprised look from the taller man, "We'll figure out what to do. I won't let him touch you, or Rani or Ru'a. Understand?" He touched Makarim's face, feather-light. A gasp-sob escaped Makarim's throat, broken from repression, then another, and then Hafa was grabbing fistfuls of Makarim's kurta and pulling him down to meet his lips. Makarim did nothing to resist; his own hands were getting tangled in Hafa's hair, leaning into the kiss desperately, breathing hard through his nose as he worked to draw the air from Hafa's lungs.
They parted, Makarim clenching his hands in Hafa's shirt, resting his forehead on his shoulder.
"I don't know what I need," Makarim mumbled into his shoulder, quiet and shaky, "but I know what I want. And I want you right now. So… Can we…?"
Hafa felt his mouth go dry. He could feel strands of silky brown hair brushing against his chin, and the heat radiating from Makarim's cheeks and ears.
"Are you sure?" Hafa asked him gently.
Makarim nodded, his fingers finding more leverage in the cloth of Hafa's kurta. "Please." he said softly. "Let's go somewhere."
.
.
.
The candle on the table was flickering violently with the threat of extinguishing, but neither man cared to replace it. It didn't matter, anyway. Light wasn't necessary, and the door to the room was secured. There was no need to bother themselves with anything else.
Hafa's fingers were curled around the back of Makarim's neck, keeping him close, kissing him hard and without reservation. The two of them were stumbling across the room, Hafa breaking the kiss only to pull his own shirt over his head and toss it aside, backing Makarim up toward the bed. Makarim's hands were carding aggressively through Hafa's hair, gripping him tightly, grunting in mild annoyance as he smacked the wooden bedframe with his heel. He allowed his knees to bend, and Hafa wasted no time pushing him gently onto the bed. Makarim fell easily, pulling Hafa along with him, their mouths never breaking contact.
Hands slid up Makarim's shirt, firmly pressing into warm skin and solid muscle. Hafa's lips left the wet warmth of Makarim's mouth to gently press kisses along his jaw, trailing his way to the man's neck, down to the dip below his throat. A sigh escaped Makarim's bruised lips, eyes fluttering closed.
"I'm… I'm kind of nervous," Makarim admitted softly, gasping as Hafa's teeth gently grazed his skin.
"Do you want to stop?" Hafa mumbled against his neck. Makarim shook his head avidly, fingers clutching at Hafa's back.
"I've just… Never done this sort of thing. And with a man- Oof- Haru-!"
Hafa was tugging Makarim's shirt up eagerly, and Makarim squirmed under him and raised his arms to allow the shirt's removal. Tossing the shirt behind them, Hafa glanced down at Makarim's figure. He had only seen him like this once before, in the palace oasis, but he hadn't been able to appreciate it then. His body was sculpted from years of hard work and heavy lifting, every defining line in his chest and stomach rolling and tensing with every breath he took. Although Hafa thought he still looked much better with water glistening over the toned muscle, he knew the image of Makarim beneath him as dying light quivered over his form was one befitting the Gods.
"You're staring," Makarim chided in embarrassment. Hafa nodded, running his hands down the length of Makarim's chest and torso, causing him to squirm again.
"I know."
Repositioning himself, Hafa leaned over to kiss Makarim's chest, his tongue dragging slowly over his left pectoral, flicking experimentally at his nipple. Makarim physically jerked, a surprised sound leaving his lips just before he covered his own mouth with his hand to stifle it. Hafa's head snapped up and he grabbed the hand, pulling it down and away from Makarim's face.
"H-Haru…?"
"I want to hear you," Hafa said seriously, his expression stoic but his eyes blazing. "Don't cover your mouth."
"I don't want the twins hearing-"
"They're at the other end of the hall, asleep. They won't hear anything," Hafa reasoned, pinning Makarim's wrist to the bed. Makarim's face flushed and he rolled his head to the side, staring at the wall.
"It's… Embarrassing," he said quietly.
"It isn't," Hafa rebutted stubbornly. "It's you."
There was no time to ask what exactly that meant; Hafa's head had dropped again to Makarim's chest, where his tongue was swirling over his nipple, applying pressure when he felt the nub stiffen. His free hand found Makarim's other nipple and playfully pinched it, rubbing the rough skin of his thumb over the darkened flesh until it was equally stimulated. Makarim gasped, whimpering through gritted teeth as Hafa gently licked and nibbled, shimmering blue eyes flicking up to regard Makarim's face whenever he got the chance. The man was surprisingly sensitive. Hafa marveled at the idea of discovering other sensitive parts he could experiment with.
Makarim's hands found leverage on Hafa's shoulders, panting and gasping while muscles twitched at the sensations. Finally Hafa pulled away, his lips once again seeking Makarim's in another heady kiss. Makarim's arms wrapped around Hafa's neck, pulling him in, kissing him hard; Hafa's head felt light and feathery, and a stiffness in his pants was making it difficult to continue straddling Makarim's hips with any semblance of comfort.
Fingers gently slid down Makarim's stomach and tread under the hem of his pants, eliciting a surprised gasp from the other man. Hafa glanced up at him for permission; Makarim nodded his head, drawing his lower lip into his mouth, face burning. Swinging a leg over Makarim's waist, Hafa knelt on the bed beside him and peeled Makarim out of his pants, pacing himself with agonizing restraint. Makarim assisted by propping himself up on his elbows, pulling one of his legs free, and kicking the pants aside.
For many years, Hafa had been stuffed inside of a mortal body, forced to feel things as a mortal would, like the sun, wind and sand against his skin and the searing torture of mortal pain. He had never considered himself a mortal, not until meeting Makarim and experiencing a slew of new sensations and emotions that he had priorly assumed were wholly human. His human anatomy up until this point had been of little importance to him. He had never gotten to fully examine himself, as he'd never seen the need nor had the desire, but now that Makarim was exposed to him, he thought it a crime that he had never had the urge.
Without warning, he extended a hand and touched Makarim's length with an aroused curiosity; Makarim let out a shuddering groan, peering at Hafa through half-lidded eyes.
"You're still staring," he said meekly, but Hafa was too distracted to answer. The flesh of Makarim's cock was warm and flushed and slightly soft; he could feel it stiffening through his touches. Surely this was a very sensitive organ, as he'd always been so careful with his own, although he'd never speculated on its uses.
"Haru… Do you…?"
Hafa glanced at Makarim questioningly just as his fingers curled around the hot flesh, and Makarim gasped, halting Hafa in his actions.
"Do you know… Uhm… What to do? With… That," Makarim asked, his voice thick with arousal. Hafa re-focused his attention, slowly and experimentally stroking Makarim's cock once, twice, and on the third stroke Makarim moaned, moving to cover his mouth again before remembering what Hafa had said before.
"As long as I go slow, I should figure it out," Hafa offered. He pulled his hand away, earning a slightly confused look from Makarim in reply.
"Sit up." Hafa said, and Makarim complied without bothering to ask why. Hafa easily slipped behind him, letting the man settle between his thighs. He could feel his own arousal pressing hard into the base of Makarim's back, and he reckoned that Makarim could feel it as well judging by the way his breathing hitched. Hands slid over Makarim's sides and came to rest on his penis, gently palming the head before once again circling his fingers around the length and stroking, absently kissing the groove of the man's spine as he worked. Makarim gripped Hafa's knees tightly, whimpering in pleasure, sweet sounds that caused warmth to aggressively flood Hafa's lower stomach.
Rather quickly Hafa discovered a rhythm, paying close attention to the sounds that Makarim was making in response to his efforts. No soft flesh remained, which Hafa could only assume was a good thing, but it did make it more difficult to smooth his hand up the length without creating unnecessary friction. Moisture would be needed if he intended to take this further, and that was most definitely his intention.
He gave Makarim's back a farewell kiss and moved, leaving the bed and grabbing one of Makarim's knees to encourage him to turn and move to the edge of the bed. Unsteadily, Makarim followed his lead, his breathing irregular and his face tinged pink.
"Haru, what…?"
Hafa knelt between Makarim's thighs, hands gripping his ankles, and Makarim's eyes shot open and a hand flew forward to hold tight to Hafa's shoulder.
"You d-don't have to, I haven't done a single thing for you yet, don't you want-"
"I want to do this," Hafa said seriously, staring at Makarim with such a calm, cool gaze that he might have assumed that Hafa was not on his knees in a very compromising position when he knew very well that wasn't the case.
"But… What about you?" Makarim asked sheepishly. "You need to feel good too…"
"I feel good when you feel good," Hafa answered easily. "We have plenty of time. I'm planning on keeping you in here for a while."
Makarim had the overwhelming urge to cover his face again, if only to hide the blush he felt blooming from cheek to cheek but he was sure that Hafa would only tell him not to. Instead he tossed his head back with a sharp cry when Hafa's wet, warm mouth closed around his cock, all thoughts of embarrassment and worry flying from his mind.
It felt much like Hafa expected it to feel, only much hotter and far more intruding in his mouth. Hafa willed his throat to relax and swallowed as much of the thickly swollen flesh as he could, hands sliding up to push Makarim's trembling thighs farther apart. He focused on doing things he assumed would be pleasurable- avoiding teeth, gliding his tongue up the length with every bob of his head and varying the suction- guided by Makarim's throaty groans and faltering breaths. Quickly he developed a technique, and Makarim was sputtering broken words and noises that sounded like he was reaching a peak. Hafa dragged his mouth upward and down with a heated wet suction that was coming close to choking him.
"H-Haru… Aaahh… S-sto- I'm going to-"
Hafa felt Makarim's cock twitch in his mouth and pulled away in alarm, unsure of what was happening. With a cry and a tilt of his back Makarim orgasmed, warm ropes of thick liquid hitting Hafa squarely on his neck and chest. Hafa was too intrigued to care about the mess; he surveyed Makarim's face through the darkness in awe, his brows drawn together, eyes half-open and bleary, lips parted in a silent scream as he shook and whimpered. Curiously, Hafa wrapped his fingers around Makarim's convulsing organ and gave it a pump; Makarim's eyes shot open and he yelped, body rocking forward, grabbing Hafa's shoulders for stability. Hafa stared at him wide-eyed.
"What happened? Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.
"S-sensitive," Makarim gasped, leaning to rest his forehead against Hafa's, eyes falling closed. His body still shook with tremors. "It's… Really sensitive, after that…"
Hafa removed his hand from Makarim's softening penis, fingers running soothingly through Makarim's hair. With his other hand, he experimentally swiped a finger over the cooling semen that was running down his neck and chest.
"I'm sorry," Makarim offered meekly. "It just sort of…"
"It's okay." Hafa licked his finger clean, the flavor leaving a bitter saltiness on his tongue; it wasn't altogether disagreeable.
"Haru…!" Makarim gasped, mortified. Hafa ignored his discomfort and repeated the action.
"I didn't realize humans could do this. Is this sperm? It's how you reproduce, right?"
Makarim sat up and covered his face with his hands, groaning. "You can't ask questions like that now…!"
The candle on the table finally depleted, throwing the room into darkness. The window adjacent to the bed was open, letting in the smallest of breezes, spilling moonlight onto the bed and floor. Hafa decided that he might like Makarim's body covered in luminescence almost as much as water, and was thankful that the candle had snuffed out to show him this sight. He pulled Makarim's hands away from his face and kissed him, slow and deep, Makarim clawing blindly at Hafa's pants. Together they haphazardly discarded his pants on the floor.
Makarim yanked Hafa ontop of him, sucking his tongue into his mouth and licking Hafa's lower lip. Hafa broke away with an aroused gasp, his fingertips finding Makarim's mouth and gently treading over his flushed lips. Unexpectedly, Makarim licked one of the fingers and dragged it into his mouth, sucking on the digit with a low rumbling moan. Hafa watched, frozen, pupils blown wide from over-stimulation.
The finger left Makarim's mouth with a wet sound. Makarim's eyes met Hafa's for what felt like the first time since they'd entered the bedroom, and they held each other's gaze in wordless conversation.
"You can… Put it in. If you want." Makarim spoke softly. Despite his eagerness to follow through with this request immediately, Hafa hesitated.
"You mean you don't want to…?"
"I… I don't mind either way, but…" Their eye-contact was broken when Makarim had to look away, his face burning. Hafa's throat felt dry again.
"Okay. How should I…?" Hafa quickly mulled over what he knew about male human anatomy. "I don't want to hurt you."
Makarim glanced to the pile of items and bags across the room that Hafa had reclaimed from his camel a few days prior. "There's sandalwood oil in my bag. It's a healing oil, so… It must be safe to use, even for something like this."
Before he'd even finished his sentence Hafa was across the room, rummaging through the leather bag he'd seen Makarim packing medical supplies during their afternoon in the sand tent. He located a vial of thick, clear liquid, raising it up questioningly. Makarim nodded, propped up on his elbows in order to see.
Hafa returned to the bed, vial of oil between his teeth and his hands smoothing over Makarim's hips, helping him to scoot father to the center of the bed. Hafa settled between his thighs, pulling the cork from the vial and emptying several drops of oil into his hand.
"Tell me if I hurt you, and I'll stop." Hafa said, and Makarim nodded again, bending his knees and watching Hafa coat oil on his fingers. Makarim held his breath when the first digit gently pressed itself against his entrance, prodding the soft skin and slicking the outside with the warm oil. Steadily, Hafa slid his finger inside, penetrating the first tight ring of pulsing muscle.
Makarim exhaled deeply as a hiss through his teeth. "I'm okay," Makarim was quick to reassure, "It's just… New."
Hafa leaned over Makarim and kissed him, gentle and sweet, finger working into him until he was able to push in another, then a third, and Makarim was panting and gripping the blankets tight in his fists, squirming as Hafa prepared him. Hafa was about to pull out when his first finger slid over a small mound of soft skin, causing Makarim's back to arch and a strangled cry to tumble from his lips. Hafa carefully ran over the spot again, a small smile pulling at his lips as Makarim gasped and thrashed his head to the side.
"There?"
"Y-yes… I- It's good..." Makarim sputtered, his cock twitching back to life, his hips jerking with every internal prod.
Extracting his fingers, Hafa poured more oil into his hand and coated his own length generously. He angled himself over Makarim, pressing the head of his cock against Makarim's slick entrance. Makarim wrapped his arms around Hafa's neck and let out a shaky breath as Hafa eased himself in, both men groaning in time from the sensation, the impossibly tight warmth squeezing around Hafa and wiping his mind completely blank. He could feel his thoughts and clarity melting away with the rhythm of Makarim's breaths and the sensation of pleasure tinged with pain as he worked himself deeper, taking care to be gentle but dangerously close to losing himself in the feeling.
Hands slid from Makarim's inner thighs to the bend of his knees, tilting his hips up. With a new angle to work with, Hafa pulled out and sunk back in. Makarim's voice rose, punctuated with gasps and moans that counterpointed Hafa's low, breathless grunts as the two of them developed a satisfying tempo. Sweat beaded at Hafa's brow and chest and felt like ice on his smouldering skin. Ever-observing, Hafa was fixated on Makarim's form, albeit hazily: he was focused on the way his lips parted as he uttered incoherent sounds, the wrinkle between his brows that was a mixture of ecstasy and pain, the pulsing of his stomach muscles as he began rocking his hips to meet Hafa's thrusts.
"H-har...u… H-haru- Aaah..." Makarim whimpered in broken moans, and Hafa lowered his head, resting on Makarim's shoulder as the arms around his neck tightened their hold. Makarim's skin smelled sweet and sweaty, and Hafa kissed Makarim's neck, moist with sweat at the hairline.
"Hafa'ma," Hafa breathed into Makarim's ear, and for a second, Makarim's body froze up and Hafa could almost hear the silent sound of bewilderment. With the next thrust Makarim was brought back, hips eagerly pushing into the motion, a yearning cry catching in his throat. Makarim loosened his arms enough for Hafa to pull himself up, their eyes meeting again, Makarim's wide and shining.
"My name is Hafa'ma. I want you to know." Hafa's voice was not as clear or steady as he would have liked, but it didn't matter. If there was one person in the world who knew his true name, he wanted it to be Makarim. He wasn't merely swept up in the moment, he hadn't lost himself in passion; He was giving himself to Makarim the only way he knew how. Whether he was to be forever trapped as a mortal or somehow regain his lost form, he wanted Makarim alone to know his name- by extension, his soul.
Perhaps it was poor judgment concocted in a human mind, but Hafa was beyond the point of caring. He trusted Makarim. He wanted him. Follies of the past were no longer any concern of his, there was only this, the feeling of bliss and friction and the soft sounds of sharp breaths accompanied by the gentle thump of the bedstead against the wall.
Makarim pulled him in again, his legs squeezing Hafa's hips, hooking his ankles behind him firmly. Mouths met in a feverish variant of kissing, wet and amorous as the pressure began to mount, coiling tightly in Hafa's stomach. They broke apart, focused on the movement, consumed by the pleasure they were giving each other. Makarim was gasping his name, his real name, every syllable sending tremors of excitement and warmth through his body and causing the pressure to intensify ten-fold.
Something was about to happen, he was so very close to some kind of release that was obscuring his vision and driving him to frenzy; Makarim's nails were digging into his shoulder blades, his cries closer together and changing in pitch. Hafa could feel that mound again, the soft pleasure center inside of Makarim that had caused him such delight before, and he strove to hit it over and over again until Makarim was tossing his head and wailing mindlessly, tears gathered at his bottom lashes, coming for the second time over his own heaving stomach and chest.
Lights exploded behind Hafa's eyes and his mouth opened in both ecstasy and surprise but no sound emerged; the pressure had hit its limit and he had exploded, he was dying, dying but it felt so good he wasn't even sure he was still in his body anymore. His hands clawed at the blankets for support, his breath shallow and coming out in desperate whines. Makarim still had his arms firmly around his neck, his body still convulsing, whispering encouraging things into his ear that he could only half-hear, "...you're okay, you're okay, I've got you, I'm here".
Hafa felt his muscles dissolve into nothing. He slid out of Makarim before collapsing onto the other man, eyes falling closed as Makarim wrapped him up in his arms, running a hand through his sweaty hair.
"Hafa'ma," Makarim hummed after a time had passed in silence, both of them working to gain back control of their limbs and normalize their breathing. Hafa didn't have the energy to respond, so he merely nodded his head against Makarim's chest. Makarim chuckled lazily. "It's beautiful," he mused. "I can see how your name emcompasses your soul. I can't think of a more fitting description for you." He exhaled a calm breath. "I'll call you that when we're alone together like this. It's your secret name, so I want to preserve it."
"Idiot," Hafa mumbled, cheeks tinted at the prospect, "I just wanted you to be the one who knew. Don't worry so much about it being a secret."
"Shouldn't I?" Makarim asked, pressing a kiss to Hafa's forehead.
"You will anyway," Hafa replied, his tone vaguely teasing.
Slow kissing followed this, mild in comparison to their earlier pace but welcome in an entirely different way. When they broke apart, Makarim offered Hafa a weak smile.
"We're going to have to clean up." He looked around for added emphasis, noting the piles of clothes haphazardly strewn over the floor and the state of the bed. Not to mention the sticky mess that had gotten all over their skin and the blankets. "The twins will probably wake up at some point and want to come in here, and when they do I don't want the room…" he trailed off awkwardly.
"...Smelling like sex and oil?" Hafa finished. Makarim groaned.
"I just finished the laundry, too." he lamented.
Hafa kissed his mouth again. "I can help with the laundry."
.
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Vivid blue eyes snapped open, and Hafa was wide awake.
He wasn't sure what had woken him. Makarim's head was resting on his shoulder, and on his other side Ru'a was clinging to Hafa's arm, snoring softly, her brother curled up behind her. All in all this was the most serene night that Hafa had experienced in this room; Makarim was sleeping soundly, having been so exhausted after their lovemaking and the second load of laundry that he'd fallen asleep straight away. The four of them slept on the floor, the bed too small to hold all of them. Although Makarim had initially tried to convince the twins to use the bed, they refused every night and preferred to sleep with the men on the floor. Makarim did nothing to dissuade them.
The blissful calm of the night was part of the problem. What had woken him? His exploits with Makarim earlier had successfully fatigued him, he had been positive that he could sleep an entire eight hours and then some; so why was he now awake in the middle of the night, every bone in his body buzzing?
An answer came to him in the form of hurried whispers coming from the end of the hall. Hafa sat up so quickly that Ru'a toppled over and Makarim's head hit the bedding so abruptly that he groaned and opened his eyes.
"Haru, what-"
"Shh." Hafa cut in harshly. All three of the other bed occupants were now awake, listening, bodies rigid as unease settled into the atmosphere. Something was wrong.
"Get dressed, quickly," Hafa urged everyone in a hushed voice, grabbing his own freshly cleaned clothes as he stood and made for the door. Behind him, Rani and Ru'a were throwing on their clothes with impressive speed, both of them mute and terrified; Makarim pulled his green thawb over his head hastily, joining Hafa at the door to listen.
The voices were closer, but then tension had lessened slightly when they realized who it was. Hafa opened the door as quietly as he could manage, greeting Najiya and Reem who also looked like they'd just thrown their clothes on in a hurry. Najiya's hair was mussed, his eyes wide in alarm.
"What's wrong?" Hafa asked them.
"Good, you're dressed," Reem said in a whisper. "It's time to go. I think they're here."
"Who?" Makarim felt cold panic shoot into his chest and neck.
"The Holy Guard, we're pretty sure," Najiya said. "We heard noises coming from the next building over, banging and yelling. Asilah is talking to someone, really loudly… I think she's trying to warn us."
Ru'a and Rani were gripping Makarim's arms. "Those men dressed in black are here?" Ru'a whispered, her face alight with terror.
"We'll be gone before they even find a way into this building," Makarim said soothingly. He interchanged a telling look with Hafa. The fact that they had found their way into the building in the first place was a horrifying event.
"Let's go. Right now." Hafa ordered as Makarim ducked into the room to grab one of the bags that held the medical supplies and water. He slung it over his shoulder and ushered the twins out of the room, quietly closing it behind them.
In the event that something like this were to happen, the men had previously scoured their floor for possible escape routes. Reem had located a room that was largely unused due to structural problems and a broken, drafty window that had a twelve-foot drop to the roof of the first floor. They headed there now, spurred on by the sound of heavy boots on the balcony. The men simultaneously realized that the guards had found their floor.
Echoing voices reached their ears, accompanied by the pounding of boots coming from the other end of the corridor. The group tore down the hall, no longer concerning themselves with being quiet, only stopping once they'd reached the door to the vacant room. Najiya pulled it open and everyone piled inside, Reem securing the door with a thick brass deadbolt.
The room was an unfortunate mess of boxes and supplies for repairing damages and furniture. The escape window leading to the rooftop below was open with no means of shutting it, letting in the night air and a chilly breeze. A tall, tattered wooden wardrobe sat against the wall beside it, casting an ominous shadow over the rest of the clutter.
"How do we know they aren't down there waiting for us, too?" Ru'a asked fearfully, eyeing the window.
"Or that we won't get hurt jumping down?" Rani added.
"I'm going down first to make sure it's safe," Hafa answered, hands on the window sill, looking down below. He couldn't see anyone below them, the night was calm and the streets were unoccupied, but he knew that could change at any moment. "I'll catch you to make sure you don't get hurt."
A sudden pound at the door made Ru'a squeak in fear, and Makarim grabbed her small shoulders protectively.
"Shit," Najiya gasped, and Reem drew his sword, pointing it evenly at the door.
"Get a move on!" Reem barked, with all the authoritative impatience of his rank. "The door is thick but I doubt it will hold for too much longer."
Hafa needed no other incentive. He scanned the dark rooftop for only a split second before making the leap, landing hard on his heels, pain shooting up his calves. The roof was much more decayed than he'd expected but thankfully it held him.
Makarim was watching him from above with concern, but Hafa waved him off and motioned for him to send down one of the children.
"Big brother, are you sure about this?" Rani asked, when suddenly the door was pounded on so violently that splinters of wood flung from the cracking frame. He started, and Ru'a backed toward the window.
"Quickly," Makarim urged, helping Ru'a to climb up onto the sill. He kissed her hair encouragingly, and Hafa held out his arms for her.
Ru'a shut her eyes and jumped. Hafa caught her easily, and was rewarded with wide, blinking eyes and a look of relief on her rosy face. He gently set her down and prepared to catch Rani, who seemed much more at ease now that he'd seen Ru'a land unharmed.
"Come on," Najiya said, hands circled around Reem's arm as the shouts from the other side of the door were getting more intense, "let's go, before-"
"You and Makarim first," Reem said, sword still pointed to the door. "I'll follow."
Knowing there was little point in arguing, Najiya reluctantly went to the window and hoisted himself up, waiting for those below to clear the way before making his jump. He fell awkwardly, his left side taking most of the blow. Hafa helped him stagger to his feet.
Makarim watched nervously. When he saw that Najiya was alright and subsequently that the door to the room was dangerously close to breaking open, he stared worriedly at Reem.
"I'm jumping, so get ready to follow," Makarim said warningly.
"I'm behind you," Reem assured, but his voice sounded strained and hollow.
Makarim jumped. His landing was somehow less graceful than Najiya's, but altogether he was unharmed. Hafa and Rani helped him to his feet, and then all eyes moved to the window to await Reem's descent.
No one had expected the dresser next to the window to be painstakingly pushed into view, or to hear the muted splintering of a breaking door and the unmistakable resonance of weapons clashing in a desperate, one-sided fight.
.
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Author's Note:
I'm so sorry this whole chapter is practically 99% smut I am so sorry (or I'm not sorry? aT aLL?)
I also sincerely apologize for yet another cliff-hanging ending, I swear I'm not doing it on purpose! uwu Poor Reem! Things just never seem to go well for these guys.
Edit: omg I fixed so many typos and re-worded so many things so hopefully the chapter makes more sense now (If it didn't before? idk some of that sounded so confusing when I did a quick read-through) TT_TT