"General? What are yo—mph..."
These were the only words the Scribe was able to utter before he got interrupted in a rather sudden and, as some would probably say, very inappropriate way.
Alhaitham had been quietly reading one of the many reports about their missions from earlier that day when the door to the guest room he was staying in had burst open. As soon as none other than General Mahamatra Cyno had stepped inside, he’d closed it again behind him with just as much force. And before Alhaitham had the chance to even assess the situation, the shorter man had crossed the room with long and determined strides towards him.
Cyno had only stopped right in front of the Scribe, eyes practically glowing with fury and… something else.
Something red-hot.
Something akin to a brightly burning fire.
Passion.
That was the only thing Alhaitham could think of in the short moment before one of Cyno’s hands grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward.
He needed a moment longer to process what exactly was going on as he released the reports and the pages went fluttering to the floor.
Considering everything that had already happened that day, it shouldn’t surprise Alhaitham much but it was certainly an outcome he hadn’t foreseen. Not even in his wildest predictions would he have thought of such a situation.
And the longer it went on, the more ridiculous it became, seeing it from a logical perspective. But that aside, he was only slightly perplexed by the fact that he wasn’t opposed to it.
Not in the slightest.
On the contrary.
He even deemed it… greatly pleasant.
The feeling of soft, plush lips pressing against his own suddenly felt so completely new and overwhelming that all he could do was tense and watch the General’s face intently. His eyes were clenched shut, his nose crinkled in a most adorable manner, and his hair was charmingly tousled. Just then, Alhaitham realized that Cyno wasn’t wearing his headpiece.
The more time passed, the more Alhaitham relaxed, muscles slowly loosening as his hands hovered awkwardly mid-air. He’d lifted them earlier in defense but seeing that it was completely unnecessary, he didn’t know anymore what to do with them. So he did the only thing that seemed the right one to do at that moment.
Deliberately slow, he moved them towards Cyno’s body, one settling on the small of the General’s back and the other cupping his face. Alhaitham tilted his head just a bit until their lips slotted together, like perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, and they naturally deepened the kiss.
Cyno tensed for a brief moment but soon enough relaxed until he eventually stepped even closer. He let go of Alhaitham’s collar, instead gently placing his hand flat against the Scribe’s chest.
An almost overwhelming, tingling sensation spread from there into every fiber of Alhaitham’s body. He wondered what might have caused this, considering that no one else’s touch had ever provoked such a strong reaction. But before he could dwell on it for too long, Cyno shifted slightly as he started to back away. Instinctively, Alhaitham’s grip tightened around the General’s back as he tried to keep him from retreating.
Defying all logic, he simply didn’t want this to end yet. But Cyno broke their kiss as he pulled back a fraction before leaning back in, forehead pressing against Alhaitham’s.
Cyno sighed, his warm breath softly fanning against Alhaitham’s lips as the General spoke up, his voice deep and slightly hoarse.
“You’re insufferable…”
His words were merely above a whisper, yet easily intelligible as Alhaitham blinked a few times in confusion. He looked up at Cyno, trying to get behind what he’d meant, trying to read anything in his beautiful ruby eyes but they were still closed.
Seeing that he wouldn’t come to any conclusion with the little facts he had, Alhaitham decided to simply ask.
“Gener—” he interrupted himself, deeming honorifics as unnecessary in consideration of their current situation. “Cyno… What’s the meaning of this?”
A few moments passed in which neither Cyno nor Alhaitham said a word; they simply reveled in their shared closeness, in the comforting silence between them. One could think that it must feel awkward for both, uncomfortable even, but Alhaitham actually thought it was quite soothing.
“I was so mad at you,” Cyno stated. “You were so cocky, almost arrogant even… It was infuriating!”
Cyno clenched his right hand and punched it against where it had been resting flat against Alhaitham’s chest with less force than one would have expected; it was merely a gentle bump.
Alhaitham was still utterly confused as to how what Cyno had felt that day would have led to their current situation.
“And that made you want to kiss me?” the Scribe asked.
Cyno jerked back, eyes once again ablaze with the same fervor from when he’d barged into the room. He walked a few steps back.
“Yes! …No— ugh! I don’t know…”
Cyno’s gaze softened right before he let his head hang low, body visibly slumping at his last words.
Alhaitham knitted his eyebrows, the gears in his head turning in an attempt to make sense of everything.
“So, my behavior today riled you up, right?”
A sigh.
“Yes.”
“And you felt agitated— enraged even?”
“Yes.”
“Then your thoughts and emotions were in disarray and boiled over, confusing you, so that your instincts took over,” Alhaitham stated, matter-of-factly.
Cyno, who was now looking at Alhaitham again, crossed his arms over his chest and simply nodded this time.
“Hm, I just still don’t understand how that would make you want to kiss me…?” Alhaitham mused. “Wouldn’t it rather lead to you wanting to punch me?”
“Sometimes, the line between punching and kissing is very thin,” Cyno mumbled, visibly annoyed, before stating much louder. “I’ve felt the ridiculous need to do this ever since our first encounter a few days ago alr—”
Cyno cut himself off, realizing what he’d just said as his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of red. He scowled, lips almost on the verge of a pout as he turned his head to the side. It was probably an attempt to hide his blush.
‘Cute’
This thought, accompanied by the sudden need to repeat their kiss from a few moments ago, crossed the Scribe’s mind before he could even grasp the situation.
“Ah,” he said instead, eyes never leaving Cyno’s as he slowly got up from the sofa he was still sitting on and took the few steps Cyno had backed away earlier.
“So, these emotions, this… urge to kiss me had been weighing on you ever since our first fight?”
Cyno’s head snapped back to the Scribe. His gaze was fierce, ruby red eyes shining brilliantly in the dim candlelight of the room.
“Not necessarily. But the way you acted the days after it, surely caused the line to blur between wanting to punch or kiss you. And that was even more infuriating.”
Alhaitham kept silent as his gaze roamed over Cyno’s face and body. He was simply standing there, facing him head-on, with arms crossed over his chest, and that endearing, almost pouty expression. A warm feeling spread from the center of Alhaitham’s chest through his whole body at that sight.
The Scribe took yet another step closer, dismissing all logic as he simply gave into the feeling that drove him to his next actions.
“Then I’m glad kissing won over punching,” he muttered before closing the last distance between them and capturing Cyno’s lips in a gentle, passionate kiss.
30 notes
·
View notes