Y/n x Alhaitham

private "tutoring" lessons with Al Haitham

(Whatever Al haithams teaching you about isn't specified.)

God, he was attractive.

Your eyes wander to his chest, the emerald stuck there entrancing - the light it was emitting was beautiful. He didn't leave much for the imagination, his tight black bodysuit wrapping around his curves and abs gracefully. You play with your pen, swirling it around your fingers.

Can a human being look this beautiful?

Suddenly, you feel a smack atop your head. You get shocked back to reality, your hand reaching up to the area that was hit. It was definitely Al Haithams thick book that he just hit you on the head with. He sits back down in his seat, and you hear him sigh.

"Your attention should be on the lesson." He says, lightly scolding you for daydreaming. You roll your eyes, straightening your posture. He watched you like a hawk, and once he's convinced your focus is back on whatever he was talking about, he continues speaking.

You take this as an opportunity to look around the house. It was fairly big, and the two of you are sitting in the kitchen. The bright sun of Sumeru shines through the window, illuminating the place. You see neatly stacked cookbooks, as well as the big pot on the stove that was boiling.

He was making soup for you and Kaveh. You were going to be here all day with how Al Haitham teaches, and he seemed to know this too. So, he figured you could help yourself to dinner if you didn't get home by midnight.

Your thoughts get interrupted by Al Haitham's voice calling your name.

"Y/N."

Your head turns around, and you almost fall out of your chair when you realize he's sitting straight up and leaning toward you. And, oh my archons, you had a front-row view of his chest. You blush, flustered at how close he'd gotten, your hand letting go of your pen in shock.

"Seriously, is this the only way I can make you listen?" he says, getting even closer now. Words get stuck in your throat, unsure of what to say. Yes, you would like to have him in front of you like this all the time, but...

"Maybe I should try something else, hm? You seem to be staring a lot at me instead of your textbook, you know?"

Seems you got caught.

"I..." Your breath hitches, eyelashes fluttering up at him. Al Haitham quirks his brow, interested. You notice his lips forming into a small smirk.

"You what?" he gets up and walks behind you, grabbing your shoulder. You can't look at him right now - you don't want him to see how desperate you truly were. Your mouth opens up to say something, but it closes once you realize there's nothing you want to say.

"Well, how about we try what I had in mind?"

You have no idea what he was talking about, but you nod. He sits back on his chair and pats his lap. Your eyes widen and you point at yourself.

"Yes. Are you coming or not?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry," you mutter, taking a seat on his lap. Your heart is pounding so fast that you feel like it's about to thump out of your chest. Your thighs brush up against his, and you're enveloped by the heat of his body. He seems satisfied, picking up the thick book.

He opens it up, but the words seem like complete nonsense to you. Your head is swaying, his voice as smooth as honey. You want to grip something, anything, but you know you can't - you'd just embarrass yourself further.

You shift on his lap, and you swear you can hear Al Haitham's breath hitch as he talks.

Oh. Seems you can have fun, too.

Mischievous thoughts plague your mind, and you decide that for the next hour or so on his lap that you'd squirm around on his lap, too close for comfort to his crotch. Each time you shift - in a more comfortable position, you tell him - you can feel him tense up.

And then it happens. He slams the book down on the table and grips your cheeks to look at him. You bat your eyelashes innocently as if you were confused at why he was reacting like this. Deep inside, you knew this was just your revenge for his teasing.

"Stop moving." His tone is harsh, and you can't help but smile playfully.

"Why? This was your idea, Al Haitham."

Suddenly, you become aware of something poking downstairs.

"...Ah. Well, that isn't my fault."

He gives you a death stare, and you sigh, admitting your defeat,

"Maybe it is."

Then, his hand lets go of your cheeks. Pain courses through them, but it's quickly replaced by surprise and arousal. His hand was now reaching down to your thigh, too close to your genitals.

"It's only fair you solve the problem you caused, then."