#i swear i’m working on a big al haitham post rn please bear with me

[tenderfxck]

al haitham would be such a sore loser.

he picks and chooses so carefully what battles he takes on to assure his victory.

until little unassuming you waltzes up to him one night in the bar, challenging him to a drinking game. the prize? whatever the victor wants to be fulfilled by the loser.

what’s the risk? he’s larger than you so al haitham knows he can process the liquor more efficiently than you can. he drinks wine often enough so he knows that he has some tolerance at least. it’s logical, is it not?

cut to him, face flushed, head slumped against the table top, head swimming from the alcohol rushing straight to his head and other parts of his body he’d rather not admit. he inhales deeply, picking the scent of your cologne out from the deep odor of alcohol pervading his senses. he leans closer, sensing the warmth of you so near to him.

"mr. scribe, you never answered my question."

oh archons. you were prattling on about art or composition or some inane thing you always talk too long about. how could he focus on your words when the lips they come from could be put to a better use?

you sensed his drunken mind had wandered from the conversation, so you decided to steer it back to your little competition.

“another round?” you asked clutching another shot glass, rosy-cheeked and smiling wide. you suspected this self-proclaimed “feeble scholar” couldn’t take another drop.

he groans. it’s not a yes or a no, but it’s definitely a sound of resignation.

“good effort.” you coo, pressing the bottle to your lips, emptying the last of its contents in one swift motion. “but i believe i win, mr. scribe.”

“fine.” he hiccups, barely able to piece together the words. “i-i secede.” he lifts his head, green eyes finally focusing on your face across the intimate table you had found yourselves at.

his gaze met with a look on your face he couldn’t quite place. Determined with dark eyes.

“i demand my winnings then.”

“archons. . .” he groans. what will it be? a ticket into the akademy’s private library? buying you drinks for the month? him to be your personal butler for the day?

“come with me.” you whisper, grasping him by the hand.

he follows with surprisingly little fuss until he ends up in a dim, secluded corner of the bar, somehow seated in a chair and looking up at you.

he had half a mind to question what inane scheme you were plotting until he suddenly felt you mount his lap, catching his lips in a deep kiss before he could make a noise of surprise.

archons. he swears that even the liquor on your tongue, can’t overpower the overwhelming taste of you.

it’s quick, it’s needy, it’s lewd the way your tongue swipes along his lips, soft thighs straddling his while your body moves so provocatively against him. he breaks the kiss moments later, puffing for air as he feels your hips shifting so purposefully against his.

fuck. he’s dreamed about something exactly like this before. finally having you sat on his lap, all to himself, grinding so sweetly against his now aching erection. you’d look so pretty out of those clothes, bouncing on his lap, cumming on his cock.

the parting of your lips didn’t last long before you found another expanse of skin to entertain yourself with. you dipped your head, laying a few kisses along the column of his throat as your fingers deftly peeled his collar from his neck. his adam’s apple bobbed in anticipation, breath ragged before catching all together. a surprised moan escaped him as you finally latched on to his neck, sucking a pretty little hickey onto the canvas of his pale skin.

his mind moved too quick, and the reactions from his body weren’t too far behind. he was trembling beneath you, pitifully bucking his hips up to meet yours. his hands which previously remained white knuckled to the side of seat finally moved, reaching up to cup your plush ass and give it a healthy squeeze.

“m-more. . .” is the only word he could form, a small trail of drool sliding from his panting mouth down his chin.

“oh, haitham, poor thing.”

you suddenly remove yourself, al haitham groaning as you stand, sent absolutely reeling from the loss of you.

“we can finish this little encounter somewhere a little more secluded tomorrow evening. I’ll cash out my prize in full.”

he sits disheveled in that chair, cock pressing hard against his pants, dumbly watching as you turn heel, pay your tab, and walk right out into the cool night.

. . .

after regaining enough composure to stand, al haitham returns home in a huff, not even acknowledging his roommate’s greeting before he locks himself in his room. he roughly shucks off his shirt and shoes before falling onto his bed, palming at the tent in his boxers that has been plaguing him since he got the hell out of that bar.

al haitham lets out a heaving sigh, dragging his pants and sash from his waist, indulging himself in desires a more sober version of himself would be too proud and oblivious to yield to in a bout of burning desire.

#sorry for being such a tease al haitham ;P #i swear i’m working on a big al haitham post rn please bear with me #tender thoughts #al haitham x y/n #alhaitham #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x you #alhaitham x you #al haitham smut #alhaitham smut