Call Me Yours [BL]

Chapter 7

Kahili's stressed.

Valen sees it in his absence.

An overwhelming bright glint glares at Valen as he climbs the stairs to their second story. The early morning sunlight is refreshing against his skin. He can't smell its sunshine, but he can feel its warmth. It slows his steps and makes his journey just a little longer so he can bask in the beams. It shines through the grand windows in an invitation to start the day.

Kahili, seemingly, started it hours ago.

"Kahili," Valen calls softly, the overly tender tone blanketing his voice reserved solely for his husband.

Kahili doesn't look up from his work when Valen approaches but he hums lowly, distracted. "Yes, my love?"

Valen knows from the scattered papers and pinch in his eyebrows that Kahili's been at this for hours, long before the sun had risen. There's a dimmed expression on his face, but it does little to curb how effortlessly attractive he is. "Eat," Valen commands, setting a plate down on his work desk.

Breakfast potatoes and steak greet Kahili warmly. Giving in, he takes his glasses off and creates a space among the disastrous mess of designs to fit the plate. "Thank you," he smiles gratefully, but it's not as bright as it should be. It lacks his usual playfulness, and while nothing in this universe could turn his emotions as easily as Valen, he feels tired. Food is among the last things on his mind—his designs begging him to keep working, but he's a weak man.

A weak, weak man who would never turn away his husband.

"You're overworking yourself again," Valen utters. Subtle concern etches his features. Kahili recognizes it immediately. He recognized it as soon as he smelled Valen cooking breakfast. He's bad with words, his lovely husband. Valen clamps up and he struggles to say what he means, but it's there in his actions, so subtle and concerned, loving in ways that Kahili hardly thinks he deserves.

"I'm not," Kahili assures. He ignores the food in favor of reaching for Valen, hands finding their familiar place on his husband's waist to gently coax him forward. Kahili rolls back in his chair and Valen fits so naturally between his open legs, the edge of the desk a gentle pressure against his back.

His workspace is a mess.

The entirety of their second-floor loft is dedicated to Kahili's work.

Three different desks take up a small portion of the room, each grand and adjustable to any height. Papers and endless fabric litter each one in a cohesive mess only Kahili's able to understand. His sewing machine glares at him from a desk over, a palpable reminder he's behind.

His instincts tell him to work.

There are too many bare mannequins behind him, four to be exact. Three more are pushed off to the side, completed and adorned in fabric that he refuses to let himself keep messing with. They look stunning—magnificent—and yet he still finds something wrong. Something that could use more, use less. He stares so long that the entire piece suddenly seems unusable. He could never send that down the runway. He restarts.

It's a vicious cycle that grips him tight and unforgiving.

He suffocates in it until Valen pulls him out.

"They're coming along nicely," Valen compliments, words hummed in that soothing tone he oftentimes uses, soft and alluring.

Kahili doesn't look behind him at the bare mannequins, and certainly not the completed. He'll look too long and drive himself mad. There's one—a mannequin stuck in that neutral space of beginning and end. It's almost done, Kahili knows. The fabric is pinned to perfection and it's just as he envisioned, but he needs to sew it.

He needs to work.

"Trying to," Kahili nods. He smiles when he realizes it comes off too curt, too little for the effort his husband is making. His thumbs start slow circles on Valen's hips. "How're you, my love? Did you sleep well?"

"I would've slept better with you in bed."

"I slept," Kahili defends. Valen looks unconvinced. "I did. I got a full night's rest, I promise." He's running off four hours fairly well, he'd argue.

Kahili is a weak man. He can't lie to his husband, not when he's pinning him with such an expression. "I'm behind," he sighs, giving up. "Really f*****g behind. These designs were due yesterday and I have, what?" His hand gestures to the mannequins. "Three completed designs? Four if I spend the rest of the day sewing. And those are rough drafts at best. I need—"

"Can I help?" Valen asks.

Kahili's mouth closes, his words dying on his tongue.

"I'm not a great sewer, but I can help you pin or cut fabric. Whatever you need. We've done it enough in the past."

Yes, Kahili thinks, the memories coming to him.

Endless nights spent working till sunrise, fast approaching deadlines that had him overwhelmed in ways he couldn't put into words—for each time he tried his throat would close and he couldn't bring himself to admit he was scared of failing. Weeks, months, and years of working side by side with his passion. A love-hate relationship that consumed him in destructively creative ways.

And Valen through all of it.

Valen by his side, helping him mold his passion for designing clothes.

There were nights, too many nights Kahili regrets, when Valen lost as much sleep as him. Where Kahili would wake up and Valen was already in the makeshift design area in their small garage, hair tied up so beautifully and cutting fabric for him. A pinch in his face and tired, hollowed eyes did nothing to deter his beauty as he worked for his boyfriend.

And then Kahili's breakthrough years later.

Kahili's pieces walking down the runway. The awards that followed. Each and every design dedicated to Valen, for my lovely husband.

"Whatever you need," Valen repeats, cutting through his thoughts. His hand reaches down and squeezes Kahili's hand, delicate in ways that suit him so well.

"Yeah." Kahili nods. Repeats, "Yeah." He looks around at his mess of a workspace and can't even begin to assess where he needs help first. "Can you—Can I pin them on you? I want to see what they look like moving around. And there's this one, it's missing something." He abruptly stands, and it sends some of his designs teetering off the desk. "f**k, I'm a mess."

He goes to pick them up but Valen catches his arm. Their eyes meet and Kahili only recognizes there's a tightness in his chest when it slowly starts to ease. "Eat," Valen says. He holds Kahili's gaze. "And then we'll work the rest of the day, okay? However long you need." His hand slides down and squeezes Kahili's hand. "I'm here."

Kahili swallows. He nods. "Yeah." He sits, then attempts a small smile at Valen. It's easier this time. "Yeah. Sorry, Val."

Valen positions himself against the desk and nods his head at the plate of food growing cold.

Kahili eats.

He talks as he does, about anything and everything that weighs his mind. His deadline, his ideas for the rest of his show, his annoyance with one of his employees. The tightness in his chest disappears and all he can focus on is how tenderly Valen watches him.

"I'm sorry," Kahili suddenly apologizes again, a sheepish realization dawning on him. "I've been the one talking this whole time."

"No," Valen says, and means it. "Keep going."

🍃🍂🍃

It's well past midnight when Valen laughs brightly and grows dizzy with affection. Kahili surges him by the waist and lifts him to spin him in circles. "You are a work of art!"

"Put me down," Valen all but whines, but it's hardly convincing with the smile hurting his cheeks and laughter spilling past his lips.

Kahili places him back on his feet and dips down to kiss him hard. It coaxes a surprised noise from Valen, but he all but melts in it. "Thank you," Kahili mumbles against his lips. He kisses him again, then pulls away to cup his face. "Really, Val. Thank you."

Valen swallows the surge of emotions in his throat. He opens his mouth, then settles with a shake of his head instead. Kahili's excitement overwhelms him. The sudden, unexpected touches. He can't think through the whiplash of Kahili's excitement, but he smiles.

Kahili has five designs done, and the beginnings of a sixth.

They spent all day cutting and pinning fabric—endless and endless pinning. The thrum of Kahili's sewing machine and the jazz music spilling past the speakers was often the only noise exchanged all day. They barely lifted their heads long enough to scarf down dinner, and even then Kahili was sewing, turning his head just long enough to accept the food Valen held out to him.

His designs aren't done but he's made more progress in this one day than he has this entire week, and it's all due to Valen.

Two days, he thinks. Two days and he'll be done.

"I owe you everything, Val," Kahili expresses earnestly.

It warms Valen, coaxes such a loving smile to his lips. "Does this call for celebration?" He's already padding to the kitchen to produce two wine glasses. They should sleep, he knows, the prospect of crawling into bed and just crashing is entirely too tempting, but he can see Kahili's emotions written all over him.

He'll never sleep like this.

So, as melodramatic as it is, they turn the fireplace on and relax into the couch cushions with their wine glasses.

Their phones chime at the same time.

A look passes between them before Valen slides his phone from his slacks. Kahili throws an arm behind the couch and leans over, his side brushing against Valen's smaller frame. "Who is it?"

"Ardyn," Valen muses.

It's a picture sent to their group chat, of the moon.

Kahili drawls a quiet noise, his dark eyes attentive to the picture. He glances up and looks out their windows, as if he couldn't comprehend that yes, it's the same moon. "We should invite him over soon," he says. He leans away and sets his half-full glass on the coffee table.

He's never been much of a drinker. Not like Valen.

Valen makes a noise of agreement and hearts the picture. He pockets his phone the next second.

Kahili grabs his own phone and texts something back. Valen's phone buzzes again but he leaves it, more content to drink his wine. "Ask him when he's free," Valen encourages.

It's been two weeks since Ardyn came over. The days bled quickly, so caught up in balancing both of their careers that they hadn't found the time to have him over again. It's hung between them, though. That subdued anticipation of knowing it was going to happen again. Valen's thought about it more than he's willing to admit.

Ardyn's eyes flash in his mind. Dilated with pleasure from Valen's softly spoken praises.

Kahili drags his attention away with a pleased hum. "Tuesday," he says. "He has class but no work."

Valen knows.

Unconsciously, he's picked up Ardyn's schedule over the past two weeks. They text every day. Valen texted him to ask if he'd gotten home safely after their first night together, and then, well, they just never quite stopped. The texts came slowly at first, feigning something coy but unnecessary, until they came more consistently.

Ardyn only has Tuesdays off, Valen realized in the second week. His texts were most consistent that day. Delayed only by his 9 AM classes that lasted till 12.

He's a night owl, just like Kahili.

Valen often wakes to too many messages that he rarely bothers to scroll through. Kahili and him message about anything and everything. Things Valen finds pointless in trying to understand. He'll like a message here and there to show Ardyn he's interested, because he is—don't get him wrong. He just never knows how to reply.

Valen's phone chimes again. He checks it.

Ardyn 12:35 AM

just got off work !!

i'm starving

The phone weighs heavy in Valen's hand. His thumbs hover over the screen as he contemplates a response. Finally, he sends one off.

Valen 12:36 AM

Get yourself something nice, Pretty.

[50$ transaction]

He waits for a response, patient as he stares at the unmoving text screen. He doesn't expect the next one to be from Kahili.

Kahili 12:36 AM

[50$ transaction]

"Honey," Valen says, amusement lacing his tone. "He doesn't need a hundred dollars for one dinner."

"He has a roommate," Kahili defends.

Valen only hums in response.

Kahili spoils him. As fresh as their new agreement has been, Kahili will send him money for absolutely anything. Breakfast, groceries, a night out with his roommate—the occasion doesn't matter. Kahili will find a reason to send him some amount of money.

Ardyn tried sending it back at first, but quickly stopped when Kahili sent back double the amount. Let us spoil you, Kahili texted him, scolding.

but i haven't done anything, the response said.

Valen, for how little he texts in their group, responded on their behalf. I told you, Darling. You don't have to do a thing.

Valen's phone doesn't chime with a text this time, not when he's already on the screen and patiently waiting. It's Ardyn, a picture accompanying the text.

Ardyn 12:48 AM

u didn't have to do that but thank u sm !!

i really do appreciate it

[attached image]

It's a picture of his roommate, the blond hybrid Valen's seen always on shift with Ardyn. He's staring blankly at the camera, completely stoic besides the heart he's holding up with his hands. A large bag of takeout sits on the to-go counter behind him.

Kahili chuckles.

And well, it's not so bad that Kahili spoils him, Valen thinks.

"Bed, darling?" Valen asks, setting his wine beside Kahili's.

Kahili drawls a noise but makes no move to get up. He looks completely at ease with his arm slung behind the couch and legs spread comfortably. He's a sight, no doubt, but Valen is tired.

"No?" Valen smiles, then relaxes back against the couch, into Kahili's arm. He smells faintly of the cologne he put on this morning. It itches Valen's nose in addictive ways, so familiar and comforting. So utterly Kahili.

"I'm not tired yet," Kahili says. "I'll meet you in there?"

"Nonsense," Valen shakes his head. He sits closer to Kahili, sits in such an intentional way that brushes himself against his husband. And Kahili's arm wraps around Valen's shoulder like he knew it would. Slim fingers grab at his hair, a thoughtless habit he's done for years. Valen sets his hand on Kahili's thigh and squeezes gently. "You worked hard today."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

Valen smiles, then peers at him coyly. "It's attractive how absorbed you get into it all."

Kahili glances down at him, something small and curious from the corner of his eye. "Yeah?"

Valen hums softly. "You get so passionate about it. It's really attractive," he repeats, then licks his wine-stained lips. "I've never seen someone make something out of nothing so quickly."

Valen has to bite at his smile when he feels Kahili straighten a little, sits just the smallest bit taller. "It's not hard," he brushes off. "Just takes practice."

"Really," Valen insists, shaking his head. "It's amazing how quickly you made everything from scratch. And when I broke the needle and you helped me change it, how did you do that?"

"Well, it's just—" Valen listens with the right amount of mhm's and uh huh's, pretends he's absolutely enamored in how well Kahili knows how to change a needle. "—I'm glad you didn't hurt yourself. They can really do some damage."

"Yeah," Valen smiles and squeezes his thigh. "Good thing you were there."

It clicks something in Kahili like Valen knew it would. "I wouldn't have let anything hurt you," he nods.

He's too cute, Valen thinks, suppressing a grin.

"I know," Valen utters, affection blanketing his tone so soothingly. "You always take care of me, darling."

Kahili's hand twitches. He nods again. "I try to."

Valen peers at him, a tilt to his head, and Kahili tracks every little movement he makes, his dark eyes fixated on Valen. "Can I take care of you, too?"

"Take care of me, too..." Kahili's words die off as Valen gets on his knees, slotting himself so prettily between Kahili's open legs. His hands slide up Kahili's thighs and make work on unbuttoning his jeans, soaking in the pained noise Kahili makes. "Val..."

"Yes, my love?" Valen drawls.

Kahili's zipper goes down with a deafening zip.

He swallows and can't quite find the right words.

His protests die on his tongue when he feels that heat around his c**k, Valen swallowing him in one expert swoop. "f**k, Val," Kahili breathes out a sigh and reaches down to tuck Valen's hair behind his ear. "You planning this all day, baby?"

Valen hums around his c**k and Kahili sucks in a breath.

No, Valen mentally thinks. He knows his husband well, knows every fine and little detail there is to possibly know. So, he knows when Kahili is too worked up. A touch too excitable for it being so late. He would've been restless all night trying to sleep.

Valen works him down with his tongue.

He bobs his head nice and slowly, lets Kahili feel every drag and press of his tongue—wants him to enjoy this. Because he deserves it, working as hard as he did.

Kahili pulses in his mouth. His c**k is warm and heavy against Valen's tongue, dripping pre-c*m that Valen swallows with a gentle moan. He loves the way Kahili's thighs tense and his hand hovers on top of Valen's head, his fingers twitching to dig in Valen's hair and push his head down.

But, he knows better.

Valen swallows more of him and Kahili gives a throaty groan, so masculine and attractive. His head tips back and there's a gentle pressure on the back of Valen's head, more of a caress than a push.

Valen entertains him. He bobs his head a little faster, and lets it get a little sloppier because he knows what Kahili likes. He likes the sounds—the wet noises muffled around his c**k, just as he likes the drool that collects around Valen's mouth. Sloppy, messy, that's how his baby likes it.

Valen gags and it makes Kahili's stomach clench and his hips raise.

Yes, Valen thinks. He knows exactly what Kahili likes.

He plays it up, pretends it's a struggle to take all of Kahili in his mouth, and it is, but he loves the way Kahili groans and the pleasure written all over his face. He likes when Valen struggles, likes that he's so big and his little husband can hardly take it.

Kahili strokes his cheek with his thumb. Valen's eyes fall shut.

Kahili loves being Valen's big, macho man that he needs to take care of him, and Valen thinks it's absolutely adorable.

"Baby," Kahili sighs again. He sounds breathless, so worked up from Valen sucking him off. His thighs tense and he can't stop his hips from raising again, a groan falling from his lips when Valen moans on his c**k. "You're so pretty, huh," he utters. "You take it so well."

Valen makes a little, incoherent noise that spurs Kahili on.

Kahili strokes Valen's hair and lets his chest fall with a deep breath of pleasure. His half-lidded eyes take in his husband so beautifully. "You're gonna let me f**k you after this, yeah?" He holds the back of Valen's head and guides his head down further. "Right, baby? Gonna let me take you to bed and f**k you nice? Been so good to me all day, I wanna take care of you."

Valen only wanted to work him down, lead him with a gentle hand to calm down. But yes, Valen's hard and straining against his slacks. He's still tired, so he'll let Kahili do all the work, but something tells him his husband won't mind.

Kahili's head tips back with a hiss of pleasure when Valen sucks at his tip. "—m'gonna c*m if you do that, my love," he chuckles breathlessly. "I'd rather c*m inside you."

Valen comes off his c**k with a wet pop.

His chest rises and falls unsteadily, breathless. His hair is messy and his lips shine with spit.

He's beautiful, Kahili thinks.

"Carry me," Valen says.

Kahili carries him.

🍃🍂🍃

domestic smut will be the death of me, i love it sm