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Post by turkey on Oct 28, 2009 18:31:54 GMT -5
He felt like a kid in a candy shop... no, even that was too mild! A child-like excitement for a momentary satisfaction couldn't explain the surging levels of malintended excitement coursing through Sadiq's veins. Perhaps he felt more like an army general, standing before his troops with an assured notion that victory was in his grasp--that he had waited so long for such a moment as this, and only a few moments more would see it fulfilled.
His first day at his job was beginning; yet the menial labor of working in a library was the farthest thing from his mind. As he hovered near the library counter, scarcely listening to what the head librarian was lecturing him on, Sadiq's mind was on one thought only: Herakles. It'd been eight years since he'd seen the boy he'd once called "little brother". Words couldn't be placed to explain the sheer rush of adreneline that came from the knowledge that, somewhere within this expansive library, the man was working...he was in the same room as Herakles, and about to come face to face with him. Though, as always, face to face couldn't be quite the correct term--face to mask, more correctly.
Had he any less will-power, he was almost certain that he might's actually been bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. He could already picture Herakles' face. Oh, how shocked he would be! And how he'd put on a mask until that old woman left, and pretend that he didn't know Sadiq! It was all the coated man could do to stop from shaking in anticipation.
His eyes glanced hither and thither across the library, as if expecting at any point that Herakles might round any given corner--any given book-case.
Yet all he met with were children--too many children for his taste. Not that that was much of a statement...one child was too much for Sadiq's taste. He'd had enough of children. No, all he cared about was seeing the man who he had last seen as a child. Man? Hardly. As intelligent as Herakles was, and had always been, he would still be childish--painfully naive in so many regards. But, on second thought, was that not what had pulled him to the Greecian in the first place?
He noticed the woman moving out of the corner of his eyes, and caught the last two words of a sentence, ending in "Follow me." Sadiq wasn't eager to follow orders, but the quicker he could end this woman's blathering, the quicker he could walk throug the rest of the library and find his prey.
The woman looked back at him, smiling professionally and apologizing for speaking for so long. When Sadiq returned the smile, and truly took time to look at her, she appeared, at first sight, very ordinary. Her short, neat hair was the same palish shade as her skin, and her eyes were bland mixture of grey and blue. It was less the absence of color than a lack of expression that made her plain, however. With some warmth of emotion in them, her eyes could have gleamed with life. A question flashed in Sadiq's mind--had this place done this to her? Had it sapped her of the life within those eyes? And for one moment, he worried that the same fate had met Herakles. He scorned himself immediately for such a thought--assuring himself that even though he hated the kid, it wouldn't be any fun to bother a lifeless drone. "If you don't mind," She said to him, stopping as she came to a door, "I'll be having our other librarian teach you everything else. I'm afriad I'm a tad busy..."
Sadiq often wondered what it was that allowed him to see through other's pretending. For he understood quite clearly in that moment that she was anxious. Perhaps emotions have a taste or smell; perhaps they are transmitted unknowingly by vibrations in the air. Whater the means, he knew just as surely that it was nothing about him in particular that alarmed her, but only the fact that he was a stranger she knew nothing about.
She opened the door, and ushered Sadiq inside. Standing in the room as she lingered in the doorway, calling out to the only other occupant in the room. His heart slammed in his chest, a smile of self-pleasure and victory illuminated on his face. "Herakles, this is the new librarian I was telling you about. Could you show him around?" The door closed behind her as she left. Just like that, she was gone--like a gust of wind, out of sight and mind.
Sadiq briefly looked around the room--the resource material, he was certain. A dull room, from a man who was used to ornate tapestries and over-stuffed sofas.
Finally, his eyes came to rest upon Herakles. Alone with the one person in the world he fought the most with...the one who's mere appearance could instantly ruin his mood. Yet he couldn't stop smiling--for their fights always relied on one principle. Who was on the offensive, and who was on the defensive; and there was little more Sadiq enjoyed that being on the offensive, and irritating Herakles. "Tsk tsk, How the mighty have fallen." He said after a moment's pause, the snarky humor running thick through his voice. He laughed, crossing his arms as he watched the male. "Not that i was expecting much, actually." His mouth was wide in a smile, one hand raised and rubbing against the bottom-edge of his mask.
If there was one thing Sadiq enjoyed above all else...belittling Herakles was certainly it.
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Post by hera on Nov 3, 2009 16:41:16 GMT -5
Herakles was happy. He had woken up in a good mood, eaten breakfast in a good mood, went off to work in a good mood and was still in said mood as he began to sort the returned books back to their shelves. The menial tasks that occupied his time didn't seem as terribly boring today. The incessant wave of annoying self absorbed children didn't bother him in the slightest. It was almost odd, that one should be so happy for such an idiotic reason as his. Herakles had caught wind a couple of days ago that the library would be getting a new employee today, a man from the Mediterranean. Tall dark and handsome...said male sounded...very appealing to the Grecians ears. Not just because his bed was gathering dust, either. The fact that the new employee was from the piece of earth Herakles called his home was the main reason the man whistled briskly in the rather dull and quiet atmosphere.
He had finished setting books, printing letters and helped just about every person in the library before his shift was even halfway through. Herakles was anxious. Too anxious for his own good. He recognized the fact that he would most likely be let down...but for once his all too realistic and cynical side was undermined by his hope that the man would become his comrade.
As he sat by himself his mind began to wander. He hadn't seen his homeland in many years. Of course he missed it, but there were certain people that inhibited him from buying the next plane ticket to Greece. Herakles closed his eyes for a moment, dismissing the thought of the ghost of his past. He ran his fingers through his hair, then sighed. Not a day passed that he didn't think about his brothers. It was ironic how one was thought of so fondly, while the other... He stood, straightened his shirt for no good reason at all, then sat back down. Damn him...plaguing my thoughts, fowling my mood. Sadiq. You haunt me. [/color][/b] He sighed once more, in aggravation. Deep olive eyes lingered to the nearest clock, following the little steps of the second hand for only a moment. A student walked up to him, asking where some book was located. Herakles answered in a sort of mumble, trying to cover up the accent he still carried heavily. It was damned annoying when one had to repeat themselves. Seeming just a little aggravated while answering any question often worked in his advantage. Once in a while Herakles would just pretend he simply did not hear what the little brats were saying. He chuckled at the wording... little brat... The student walked away, Herakles smiled to himself. He would always call me that. Old geezer.[/color][/b] He chuckled once more. Herakles was never the type to dishonor his elders, he held them in the highest regard, but Sadiq was an exception. They tormented one another. Always. Stating the fact that the man was much older than him was a cheap jab, but it always got the job done of ruffling his feathers. Of course they would have their little intellectual spats, but Sadiq would usually cut it short. Herakles often presumed it was because he simply couldn't hold his own for too long. Immature physical and verbal abuse were his finer points, the Grecian could only reciprocate such actions to the Turk. He ran his fingers through his hair once more, realizing he was becoming much too nostalgic for his own good. Such memories often depressed the boy, and he was done with sadness. The idea of this mysterious man brought a little smirk back to his face. He wondered where exactly in the Mediterranean he came from. Herakles was familiar with the surrounding lands of Greece intimately, so he didn't worry that he wouldn't know. As he stood, he looked around. The head librarian was off doing something or another, he really didn't care, and there weren't many students about. He walked to the front desk, thumbed through some old files, then decided to just wander aimlessly while he waited. Herakles had already read a great many books here. He did so with great vigor at first, almost overcompensating for the lack of books while he had traveled. As the piles of unread pages dwindled, his taste in what he found became much more acute. He automatically wandered to the non-fiction section, autobiography and biography. Reading about past lives, people that he had never met while living, was one of his great pleasures. He especially loved to read of the poets. Poets were like philosophers in his eyes, and since he had already read more on philosophy than anyone could shake a stick at, what better subject to transition to? His left thumb grazed over the spines of a couple of books, reading the titles and moving on. Most of what he had read was still sitting on the shelves. His fingers plucked a thin spindly little thing from between the other titles. He flipped through the pages, read the synopsis and review on the back, then decided it would suffice. Returning to the main desk, Herakles caught the tiniest wisp of a familiar scent. The aroma of myrrh tickled at his nose for the slightest moment. He eyed his surroundings, then rubbed the smell away. Now that was odd. My reminiscing must have resurfaced the familiar scent...[/color][/b] He cleared his throat, pulling a chair and sliding gracefully into it. After a few short minutes, his attention span began to wander. This is useless. I might as well try to find something else to do...[/color][/b] He closed the book and placed it in the little pile of returned ones. Herakles glanced around the library, the smell of dust and paper kissing his cheeks. The Grecian walked to one of the backrooms, seeing if there were any stray books lying around. The door slowly clicked behind him as he spotted a pile of papers. He picked them up slowly, in a very methodical way. Just as he was finishing he heard the head librarians voice. She sounded a bit flustered, or so he presumed. She was just outside the door, talking to somebody... Herakles paused. She was talking to the new employee. He straightened his shirt and tried to fiddle with his hair. There was no use taming it, but he didn't mind too much. His back was turned form the door when she opened it. The smell of myrrh slapped him in the face as he turned to face the man. His heart leapt. He felt like vomiting. He almost did. A tight knot formed in his throat. Herakles couldn't believe his eyes. Sadiq. Standing in front of him with that damned grin of his. The swell of fury that bubbled inside of him was barely containable. The librarian said something or another to him, he didn't hear a single word. She left. He was alone now. Herakles stood for a moment, staring at the man. He looked good; not to be taken that he looked desirable, but that he was in fine health. He looked down at the little pile of trash, trying to distract himself from the bitter feeling etching through his bones. Could I have expected anything else? Why would the gods grace me with a handsome stranger that I could easily relate to? A friend to make? Why would they be so kind? No. There is a reason why he is here. Maybe through absence our differences have died? Maybe he will be tolerable now...[/color][/b] The Turkish man spoke. His hopes were squandered. Of course he has not changed...why would he?[/color][/b] Admittedly Herakles could understand why the man standing before him held so much resentment in his heart. Herakles had not left on the best of terms. He hadn't even said goodbye, all those years ago. He spoke. The words cut Herakles. Only his had such an effect on the Grecian. Herakles met eyes with the man, smiling to himself. "And why are you here? Couldn't mind your own business? Had nothing better to do than torment a boy from your past?"[/b] He leaned against the plain walls of the room. Herakles wasn't in the mood for Sadiq's antics, but he had no choice to comply with the little games the man so loved to play. It was odd, the sense of familiarity that swept over him. He hadn't seen his "older brother" in many years, and just like that, was now bickering with him. Like nothing had happened. Like no time had passed. No tears had been shed. Nothing. It enraged him. He just couldn't stand the fact that Sadiq held so much power over him. He would never admit it, but the man was special. Whether it was a good or bad thing didn't matter. Herakles was perfectly comfortable without the man in his life; a premonition of disruption inked into the back of his mind. [/size][/blockquote] OOC: LOL.
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Post by turkey on Nov 7, 2009 1:15:27 GMT -5
Eight years could change a man—more realistically, eight years should change a man. Perhaps the gap between twenty-nine to thirty-seven was less of a physical notification than nineteen to twenty-seven. Or, perhaps, it was that Herakles had always been far more adept at hiding his feelings than the older turk. For when Herakles turned to face Sadiq, it was all Sadiq could do to not gape. He’d had such a firm mental image within his skull for so long—a distant memory of the boy’s face at nineteen years old. Really, it was foolish to have assumed that he would be meeting the same face on the evening. Far more foolish, then, to have expected that this would be an easy meeting. It was a problem Sadiq had long had, but never recognized: he always expected things to go according to plan. When a surprise caught him off guard, Sadiq had a hard time regaining his footing.
In that moment—with the dull palpitations of his heart slowed to a molasses-like stupor that scarcely held a resemblance to life, all of Sadiq’s childish enthusiasm vanished. He had gone in with the mindset that this would be like any of their usual squabbling; he had not accounted for such variables. He hadn’t counted on being met with the cold, calculating face of a grown man. Was this still the boy he had taken under his wing? Physically, the resemblance was still there—yet Sadiq suddenly recognized that he was coming into this without any knowledge of who Herakles was now. Questions that had often plagued him on long, arid nights returned as he inspected Herakles’ features from head to foot; realizing now the true extent of their time apart. Where had Herakles been? What was he doing? Who had he met? Was he married and with children? Did he feel guilt? Did he feel glad? Did he ever think of the family he had left behind?
Rather than bringing about a feeling of nostalgia, or perhaps the sorrow one might expect to feel when realizing that a person they loved had been abscent for an entire section of their life, Sadiq became angry. It was less the boy’s words that had incited such a reaction out of him—if anything, they managed to calm the sudden storm of emotions that threatened to burst out. A sarcastic, jibing comment of the brand Sadiq was used to—that so many of their arguments started out with. No, it was not the words that had his fist clenched at his sides—nor the tone that had him scowling, or the delivery that him firmly rooted to the ground. It was the sudden epiphany, that he had so long forgotten, of why Herakles was able to incite such anger within him. It was the remembrance of long dead feelings that had been pushed down over the eight year time. It was the memory of the past, of the little boy with hard front to hide a tender heart—it was of the fights, of their mutual inability to step down and admit what was truly on their mind, of Sadiq’s need to never let himself appear vulnerable—even if that had meant being too strict and cold with a child…even if it had meant only kissing the boy to sleep when he was already asleep. No one, not even a child, had been allowed to see his softer side.
And it was with that thought, those memories and realization, that Sadiq looked upon the boy. The boy who had made up so much of his past, and yet who he still couldn’t bring himself to let down his guard around. If anything, he had reinforced his guard—of all the possible intruders, Herakles was the last person Sadiq would let in.
Sadiq wanted to strike the boy…no the man. The thought nearly caused him to actually shudder. Yes, Herakles would undoubtedly be considered a man now. Could he bring himself to feel the same way? Could he stop seeing Herakles as that young boy—the child with bright green eyes who spoke of philosophy on quiet starry nights?
Fuck no. No matter what evidence anyone could bring forward to prove that Herakles was a different person, Sadiq knew he would never see him in such a way. He smiled—teeth bared in a wide grin. Oh, he had regrets—but no matter what one might say, the petty fights he had with Herakles were the closest they ever came to a ‘relationship’. After all, as Herakles himself had once said—the opposite of love was not hate, but indifference. And if anything could be said about the two of them, there was certainly no indifference to be had between them. “A boy from my past? You age us unnecessarily, brat.” He stepped closer to Herakles—standing, as some might say, in Herakles’ personal space. Such standards had never applied for the Turk; it made little sense to him when people stood so far apart when conversing.
Sadiq would be lying, too, if he said he didn’t get a kick out of their ever present height-differences. Herakles was by no means short…but he was still nearly half a foot shorter than Sadiq. He lifted a hand and patronizingly ruffled Herakles’ hair, as a father might do to his young son—in his own way, assuring Herakles that there would never be any difference in how he saw him. “Well, since your mother’s too old and haggard to bother with anymore, I thought I might find someone a bit more…interesting for my tastes here.” He sneered—oh, he knew the path he was travelling down! He knew he could get under Herakles’ skin…he knew he could make the boy angry. And for the time being, that was what he wanted. He wanted to see Herakles upset, to be reminded again that he was the only one who could move Herakles to such an extent—even if it was in such a negative connotation. He lifted a hand and placed it softly on Herakles’ cheek, his thumb resting against the Greecian’s bottom lip. He felt the excitement he had lost well up again, in knowing that he was pushing things too far again—that he could be as cruel as he wanted, and feel recompenstaed. He chuckled, low and dry, “Any suggestions?” The comment was downright flirtatious—not that Herakles would catch it. Sadiq knew he wouldn’t; he did so for his own sake, his own amusement.
Sadiq was swimming in dangerous waters now, he knew—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
OOC: Not proofreading this. I assumed you'd want it ASAP
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Post by hera on Nov 7, 2009 18:07:40 GMT -5
Men were all the same; no matter what part of the world you went to, what time period, how you addressed them…men were all the same. They acted in patterns. Predictable; easy to read. Learning the language of men was no hard task, and being one, Herakles had mastered said language. He had always suspected what thoughts lay behind that white mask. Sadiq came into his life to torment him. He took his mother, seducing her with flesh and riches. He taunted the boy, making his feelings of self worth squandered in the dust.
But there were times…times when the boy pretended to be sleeping, or glanced away at just the right moment. Sadiq was a layered soul, hiding his ulterior motives in such a way that the boy could not wrap his head around. He pondered for many years why the man did what he did. At first he simply resolved that the man was a sadist, but his pleasure was not just the sexual sort. He ventured one day that Sadiq’s love was just a twisted one, that he portrayed it in a way that was unconventional and downright illogical. That idea was put on the back-burner; Herakles saw no love in the man’s heart. He tried for many years to figure out why the man acted the way he did. No matter how many hours he racked his brain for the answer, though, the Grecian could not find any sort of justification that would satiate his questioning.
Herakles glanced down at the hand that held his face. The fingers smelled like cigarettes, mixed with the ever present perfume of myrrh. He closed his eyes for a moment. A rage welling up inside of him that even he could barely contain. Sadiq knew exactly how to play the boy, utilizing the fact that he knew Herakles far better than anyone living to tear the Grecians heart apart. It infuriated him to no end. Many times Herakles thought of stooping to his level, but many times the little voice inside his head said, “No…you will just be playing into his sad games. Let him have his fun. [/b]” Again he was tempted. He was tempted beyond belief to make the man standing before him learn that Herakles was no longer the little boy he once knew, but had grown into something else. Something detached, distant, something that could not be hurt by mere words, but that would be lying. They both knew it. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the smell of tobacco once more. They slanted down toward their feet, now glazed and as unattached as he could muster. He leaned forward, standing slightly on his toes. I am an idiot…blinded by my emotions. His lips pressed gently against the man’s neck. He could feel the stubble like little razorblades against his mouth. Kissing the skin ever so gently, he worked his hands up around Sadiq’s back, his right moving toward the Turks jaw line. As his fingers came upon the face, they clamped down with ferocity. With the slightest adjustment, his hand could press against the throat, silencing him. He whispered in a monotonous tone, not letting his eyes meet his elders, “ We both know I could never measure up to your tastes.[/b]” A pause, he smiled for the briefest of moments, for no reason whatsoever. He wasn’t enjoying what he was doing; he was almost as disgusted with himself as he was with Sadiq. “ Now I suggest you leave me be.[/b]” He let go, standing back on the balls of his heels. Herakles looked up into the mask, his face like a statue. He could not predict what would happen next. The Turk was prone to childish tantrums, showing his rage without hesitancy. Sadiq could easily cause him great harm, both physically and mentally. He imagined the man throwing him against the wall, breaking his body. The verbal abuse that would ensue almost made him break the façade he wore so well. No. I must not let him see. I am not afraid of him.[/b][/i] He gazed on into the mask, hoping his own was just as effective. [/size][/blockquote] OOC: Sorry for the failpost. I didn't proofread, nor did I really get into as much as I wanted. The whole psychological side that I wanted to show would have just taken days. Love me despite this?
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Post by turkey on Nov 7, 2009 22:03:16 GMT -5
Frozen. Sadiq, for once in his life, was actually speechless—completely incapable of forming even the shortest of thoughts. With no conscious effort of his own, his chin lifted the slightest degree into the kiss, as if to present his neck more readily to the soft lips. He grimaced his teeth and shut his eyes, but made no verbal protest. The actions felt odd—Sadiq was always the one to initiate with his lovers. It was always his lips to explore, his fingers to first hold, and his decision to first begin. Having another touch and kiss his neck when he wasn’t prepared…it was nothing short of strange. It was made worse by the fact that he couldn’t retaliate—Herakles could get away with this, but he could not act back. His hands couldn’t reach out and hold the Grecian against his body, his lips couldn’t find their way to the others’. Not to say that he did not want to, for every fiber of his being wished to simple drop the fronts and push the younger to the ground—it was morality that stopped him from giving into his mortality. Herakles may have been a man now…but he would always be the older to Herakles—always the ‘big brother’ who had raised him. There was no changing this.
Yet he was not dense. He was not fool enough to think that the actions had come from some honest part of Herakles. It was his way to fluster Sadiq back, his way to get revenge, without playing into Sadiq’s petty remarks. Again, Sadiq felt a sudden panic well within his chest—did that mean, then, that Herakles knew? That he understood now…?
No, Sadiq could not believe it. Would not for an instant believe that Herakles had somehow discerned the truth on his own. For if he had…well, such a reaction would not have been the one he would give. Sadiq still stood firm by the belief that he knew Herakles; at least that he knew enough about him to gauge his reactions. He was surely expecting Sadiq to panic, to throw his hands back and call Herakles a pervert…to have victory in flustering his elder. He’d nearly had his way, as well. The foreign feeling had thrown Sadiq off—but not enough to completely blow him over. No—Herakles would not be winning so easily. Sadiq placed the index and middle fingers of his right hand through the eye-holes of his mask, grasping onto the rim of the hole and pulling the white object off. He placed it into the pocket of his coat, eyes staring down into Herakles’. He smirked. “What’s that? So quick to demean yourself, Hera.” He added an emphasis on the name—a nickname he had used on Herakles as a child. “You make my job too easy.”
Looking into those eyes, into the face of the boy, he could tell that what he was seeing was not the truth—this strong, stoic façade. He could see that Herakles’ mask was translucent—but he still couldn’t quite see through it. Was it fear? Pain? Regret? Sadiq wanted to see farther; to do that, he knew he had to push farther.
Herakles had indeed made it easy for him. Whether the kiss had been to incite a reaction out of Sadiq or not, he knew he could damn well use it to his advantage. He grabbed the front of the male’s shirt and pushed—forcing him to walk backwards and into the wall. Placing his hands on either side of Herakles’ head, he had effectively trapped the man. Sadiq knew the one universal truth in the world that so many people prided themselves as being ‘better than’. In the end, he didn’t always need witty retorts and scathing insults to win—no, sometimes brute strength was all that was required. He bent his elbows at the joint, his own face mere inches away from Herakles’ “Well, if you’re going to act like a man, expect to be treated as one.” He released one hand, and brought it to the side of Herakles’ jaw-line—this time, not releasing. He stooped closer, his lips a mere hairsbreadth from Herakles’ own. His breath fell on the Grecian’s lips as he spoke, “And the first lesson of being a man…don’t start anything you aren’t prepared to finish” He paused for only a moment to second-guess his actions—the conflict again rising. He wanted to prove his point, to make Herakles squirm.
He kissed him—long and hard, forcing the back of Herakles’ head against the wall.
It was only to cause a reaction…only to one-up Herakles. There could be no harm in the action under such pretenses, he was sure. It wasn’t out of lust, or the desire to initiate anything deeper between them—only to flabbergast the younger.
OOC: How does this thread have 65 views!? Also, not proofreading...again. Can we just assume that I'll never proof-read?
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Post by hera on Nov 8, 2009 1:42:30 GMT -5
He was taken aback, both physically and mentally. Herakles could not believe what was happening. The mental images that had flicked through his head moments before could not compare to the scene unraveling at his feet. Sadiq was so close, his breath smelled like sugar-coated nicotine. His heart pumped in his chest as the man spoke, he was afraid it was going to burst. The Grecian was not scared, or so he told himself. He honestly could not tell what emotions were racing through his body, pumping through his veins. Adrenaline raced in his blood, preparing him for anything. The words Sadiq uttered cut right into his heart. Herakles was scared. At that moment he was terrified. He would not let on that he felt this way, though. Herakles would rather die than let Sadiq know that he feared the man. He looked right into the Turks eyes as he removed his mask. They were a beautiful color. Such sentimentalities were wasted, though. If it were any other person, Herakles would point it out. He would kiss the lids of those spectacular eyes, if only it was someone else who owned them.
His face was even closer now. Herakles held his breath without realizing it. He did not think that Sadiq would rape him. Herakles had doubts though, very strong doubts. He thought back to the moments when his mother would try and console him, telling him as she held him that she was in love, and that they needed him. That Sadiq was a good man. That he fixed all of their problems. He thought of the pain in her eyes, the creases in her youthful face due to unhappiness. How she had aged since they came into the Turks house.
Sadiq was a strategic man. Everything he did was a tactic. From the way he spoke to the boy, the suttle reminder of their past. Everything. Herakles admitted that he was damned clever. Yes, he was often overruled by his own emotions, but when he finally took the time to think, it was quite the dangerous situation. As he tried to think of a methodic way to get the brute off of him, a swift action derailed his mind completely. The Turk dipped his head down, kissing the Grecian.
The kiss was long, it almost hurt.
Sadiq's lips were slightly chapped, they were planted firmly against his own. Herakles closed his eyes in pure disgust. He knew that if he tried to struggle his way out of the man's grasp, he would be hassled to no end. Verbally abused for years and years on end. He was sick of being Sadiq's inferior. He was sickened with the fact that the man always seemed to win. He no longer wanted to be the victim. He wanted to be the one that inflicted the pain. The one that would cause Sadiq to knash his teeth with aggravation. His brow furrowed, he never allowed himself to show his emotions like this. He stood limp against the wall for just a moment.
He kissed the man back.
Harder, with much more ferocity than he intended. A moment passed. A long moment that revealed something to Herakles. He wanted to scream, scream until his throat bled, because for half a second, Herakles had enjoyed the kiss. He pushed himself towards the man with all of the strength he could possibly muster. Words could not describe the pure hatred he felt for himself. He almost hated himself as much as he hated the man his lips were currently pressed against. Herakles could not stand it any longer. He turned his head to the left, catching his breath for just a moment. He glared down at the ground, the taste of metallic blood on his tongue. There were no words that he could say, no thoughts that could justify his pleasure. His eyes watered. He was at such a point of rage that he could not help himself. He did not let any tears fall from his eyes. He closed his lids, concentrating on the taste in his mouth. Of course Sadiq had won this challenge. He always got the better of the him. He just hated everything that the man stood for, everything that he had become in the Grecians life. He looked back up at the man. Damn you. You, the demon that plagues me. Damn you. [/b][/i] He breathed in, then out, slowly. Very slowly. He raised his chin, a feeling of resolution sweeping over him. I am going to make you love me. Love me in such a way that every time we kiss, you are going to die a little death. I am going to break your blackened heart, and you are going to weep like you have never wept before. This was so much easier said than done, though. Herakles knew that Sadiq would not love him in the way that normal people loved each other. Even if he achieved such a feat, the Grecian could never reciprocate the feeling. He was going to "love" him purely in the physical sense. He did not smile. He did not frown. He just was. Herakles kissed the man once more, in a more sensuous way. He could barely reach the man's lips. He grabbed at the front of Sadiq's jacket, pulling him to his own level. Oh how it disgusted the Grecian to do this! How he wanted to run out of the room, out of the library. Run out of the man's life, forever. He pulled back for a moment, his jaw set, his eyes apathetic. He tried to read the Turk's expression, tried to derive some sort of answer from the man's face. The smell of myrrh wafted into his flared nostrils. If he wanted it, Herakles could easily detach himself from the situation. He could leave. And he wanted to...almost. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? LEAVE. HE IS NOT WORTH IT.[/i][/b] His feet held firmly to the ground. Herakles could not explain himself. There was no logic in his actions. It finally hit him. You want this, don't you?[/b][/i] He kept his eyes fixed to the other's. If he concentrated enough, he could see his own little reflection in the pupils of Sadiq's. He thought of his idiotic plan of revenge, how he would make the Turk "love him." Herakles breathed in once more. He was finally admitting to feelings he had hidden away for eight long years. Feelings he almost didn't realize had still existed. Had he known that he subconsciously felt this way back then? He knew that he hated the man. He hated him with such determination because no matter what way you looked at it, it was logical to hate him. A question popped up in his mind. Do you hate this man? Yes. Part of you does...Do you hate this man? No...part of you...[/b][/i] It hurt to admit this. He flinched. Damn it. He must never know this. Damn him.Nothing was making sense. Things so rarely did, but this was just fucked up. Purely fucked up...[/size][/blockquote] OOC: LOL. I suck at this!! Are you getting the point I was trying to make? Sorry if I'm damned confusing. Shit. I'm literally feeling sad for both of them. My sense of empathy is pathetically acute. Oh, and sorry for long post time. <333
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Post by turkey on Nov 13, 2009 4:29:54 GMT -5
Every fragment of his mind was screaming. Every ounce of cranial fluid, thrown into pandemonium and shock with the turn of events. Again, Sadiq was thwarted by his expectations. Again, he had simply assumed that he knew Herakles through and through—could predict his moves, and act upon those predictions. Yes, he had expected something along the lines of a panicked noise; something akin to a small, frightened animal. He had wanted…wanted? No, perhaps simply known that Herakles would be disgusted. He was alone in the burden of feeling—perhaps he had even done it to end this. To content himself with the pleasures of their tainted relationship, and never again envision a change. Not even eight years could change such feelings of resentment and spite; there was no reason for anything to ever be different. Yes, he had thought, Herakles would be repulsed, and he could finally resume life as normal
…That was, of course, until Herakles kissed back.
Caught somewhere between the visceral reaction of kissing back, and the moral voice in his head shouting at him to run for the hells, Sadiq was stilled in his movements. Whensoever Herakles fought with him, the usual reponse was a curt insult from Herakles—a brief witty retort, or perhaps a decisive shove to push Sadiq out of the way. Sadiq knew this game as well as Herakles, and had become accustomed to winning. The Grecian’s stubborn pride, his unwillingness to show any side that wasn’t mature, had been his downfall for so long.
Yet now, Herakles was fighting back now. Slowly, without any mental consent on his own, Sadiq’s lips pushed back, eyes falling half-lidded in a stupor. His hands lifted of their own will, moving to take light hold of Herakles’ hips. He knew he should’ve pushed away instantly. This was not the love he so stubbornly made himself believe Herakles secretly garnered to him—it was not an exchange of passion or desire. It was spite…or so he assumed.
His mind was an unstoppable force as he tried to find meaning within the actions. This was wrong…he knew it was. This didn’t add up. He had just insulted Herakles’ mother—a woman he knew Herakles held in high regard. He had pushed himself upon the man, effectively trapping him against the wall. Without any shadow of a doubt, Sadiq knew that this was not the physical contact that should have occurred between two men who fought each other in any petty way they could. Fists should have been exchanged.
Despite all of the logic, all of the theories of sense and rationality, none of those could change the reality before him. Yet then…he caught it. He watched as Herakles turned away, eyes now wide-open, as if he were a child inspecting a circus for the first time—his attention completely unshaken, his mind open to observations. He could see the shame—see the pained look the Grecian hid so well. For all his observations, he couldn’t reach an analysis; where was the sense in this? He could see all the options before him, but none could be labeled as correct Did he kiss back in revenge—was he attempting to stupefy Sadiq…give him a taste of his own medicine? Were his motives ulterior…was this some sort of scheme to throw Sadiq for a loop? Or was it…
Sadiq almost shook his head at his thoughts; rather, he would have, if Herakles hadn’t turned back at that moment. No, certainly it was one of the first two. But then…which one? And more importantly, what was the proper response? Yet of the questions that plagued his mind, he could find no answers—not a single one to explain Herakles’ actions, or to lead him to a proper decision.
His body knew what it wanted, his hands itched to touch that tanned skin. How many times had he envisioned how the body would feel beneath his hands? Countless, he was sure….
…He smiled. Why did he let so many questions plague him, when there was so little reason to? It hardly mattered for the why behind Herakles’ actions—he could have his own motives, and let the Grecian guess just as much as he had. With Herakles in such a position, having shown complacency to Sadiq’s will, it was now only a matter of whether he was capable of taking it farther. Yes, the desire was there—had always been there, since Herakles had reached a state of maturation. Briefly—in a flicker—he was reminded of the objects that had stopped him from acting then. The boy’s youth, the situation, the malice between them…none of them mattered now. The boy was a man; a man who had, for whatever reasons, returned the action stronger than that with which had been initiated. For Sadiq, that was all the reassurance he needed.
With the realization that all of the boundaries he had set up for himself had collapsed, Sadiq felt a strange sense of freedom. In all other aspects of life, he had been free—he had, in fact, never known the taste of restraint until it had come to Herakles. He was the forbidden fruit, so high within the tallest of trees. Now he had had his very first taste and learned, with pleasure, that the fruit was as delicious as he imagined—and far more acquirable than the standards he had established.
Sadiq turned his eyes towards Herakles’ with this realization. For once, he did not bother to analyze what the boy’s mind would be processing. Whether it was of hate or confusion, Sadiq was indifference. He had always been a man to act on his desires—to strive towards what would make him happiest. Now would be no different.
A swift half-smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth was the only warning he gave Herakles—the only signal towards his impending actions. One hand shot up, the gloved digits grasping at the back of Herakles’ head, the other pulling the other’s hips towards him. His head swooped down and, whilst tugging Herakles’ hair to better angle him, rammed their lips together. It was as rough as it was decisive, teeth clattering as Sadiq forced his way into Herakles’ mouth. His tongue pressed roughly into the warm cavern, mapping out every inch with a voracious hunger.
He took a step forward, completely pinning Herakles to the wall—their bodies flush-together. It was sick of him, he knew, yet such facts only added to his excitement. Yes, it was taboo…it was dangerous, and it was damned incredible. He ground his hips forward, establishing even more contact among the friction.
He was going to hell for sure—and he was dragging Herakles there with him.
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Post by hera on Nov 17, 2009 7:04:18 GMT -5
This was not what he wanted.
The Grecian saw that gleam in his eye, that little smirk that foreshadowed the man’s actions. He saw that slight nodding of the head just moments before. Although he barely shook it, Herakles had read the action as clear as day. As their lips met once more, Herakles could only stand in a slight state of panic. Their teeth clattered against one another. He felt the man’s tongue writhing about in his mouth. His hands so well placed against Herakles’ body. He felt utterly defenseless, and the only thought that raced through his mind was that he did not want this whatsoever. He kicked himself mentally, knowing he should have seen it coming. Knowing that Sadiq would only turn this sort of thing into a damn game.
Herakles was honestly ashamed of himself. Somewhere, in those brief moments where they had done nothing…only stared…Herakles let slip his emotions. Sadiq pounced on the little heartstrings like a falcon to a mouse. He had read the Grecians eyes, figured out in mere moments what had taken Herakles eight damned years, and was now utilizing said knowledge to his advantage. It was so typical. He just couldn’t see how he could have not had the insight to predict it. It was so obvious now; Sadiq would never show such passion as he was doing in this moment. He was making fun of the boy, flaunting himself as untouchable bait. A bitter reminder that Herakles feelings would never be requited. He just couldn’t swallow down the harsh fact that Sadiq could read him so easily. Did he know all along? Is this why he has returned? Because deep down we both knew. Damn him. [/i][/b] The man still pressed himself against Herakles. He was disgusted, infuriated, overjoyed. If only the emotions were real, if only Sadiq truly wanted him. That would never happen, though. The Grecian thought of his mother, how she would have died at the scene before him. She had loved this bastard. It must have carried on in the blood. Even if she did not truly love him, she gave up so much for Herakles at her own expense. He choked back the idea that her efforts to raise him correctly would be squandered. Even if Sadiq did want this, it was just too fucked up. The Turk…well, he wasn’t a father figure. He was a mentor of sorts, though. What was happening now, it was utterly taboo. No. He does not want this. This is him beating me once more, hurting me. Humiliating me.[/b][/i] Herakles was done. He was fed up of being made a mockery of. The Grecian placed his hands against the man’s chest, feeling for only the slightest of moments, his heart. It’s beat was strong, the skin felt warm underneath the shirt that separated their skin. He wanted to touch the man so badly, to feel that warmth against his lips. He wanted to enjoy the superficial kiss, to let himself go, but he was much too filled with pride. There was no way in hell that Herakles would let Sadiq go this far and not get anything in return. Before he tried to shove the man away from himself, his mind flashed back to the moments of his childhood. How he had thought, for even the briefest of moments at times that Sadiq had loved him. He thought of the way his eyes softened when Herakles gave him his full attention, or despite his cold demeanor, would help the boy. He forced those memories out of his head. Sadiq was not this type of man. He was not the type to put up such a front, for so many years. He wore his emotions on his sleeves always, never letting them hide and fester. The fact of the matter was that Herakles had let his guard down for just one moment, and was now paying for it tenfold. His elbows rested against the wall, to be used as leverage in a short second. He shoved the Turk away from himself with all of his might, their lips parting. He growled in aggravation as he pushed, wanting those lips against himself once more. His eyes scrolled over the man, a bitter chuckle rising up in his throat. He killed the laugh, putting on the face of apathy once again. They were only inches apart, Herakles was not the strongest of men and Sadiq was quite the force to be reckoned with. He ran his tongue over his lips, the sweet taste of cigarettes lingering on his taste buds. Everything about this man was addicting in one way or another. He found it ironic, humorous, if you will. Herakles chose his next words very carefully. He did not want to point out what was so obvious between the two men now. It would only cause him further shame and embarrassment. ”So eager, Sadiq? I thought you had a little more restraint than that. Or has it been so long that you would stoop to this level?[/b] He couldn’t help but belittle himself, Herakles thought that it was deserving. He knew it was an idiotic tactic, to try and make it seem that it was Sadiq who was to blame. That it was in fact Sadiq, who harbored such emotions for the boy. He resented what he had done, thinking now how much of a mistake it was to play into the Turk’s games. Sadiq would always win, would always have the power. If he so wanted, he could break the Grecians heart into perfect little pieces. His placid olive eyes grazed over the man’s lips. It was torturous, standing in front of him like this, so very exposed. He wanted nothing more in the world than to envelope the man once more, to kiss him hard and rough, to explore the man’s body with his eager lips. There was nothing more unobtainable than this, either. This was not, without a shadow of a doubt, what he wanted. [/size][/blockquote] OOC: Oh lulz, I wanted to go on for so much longer…but felt that you would have been pissed. No proofread, btw. Shit…this is tearing me up, you know? This situation. Are you getting the point I’m so obviously failing to portray, though? =P Also, written between the hours of 3AM and 4AM...so sorry if I end up reading it tomorrow and realizing it's horse shit. I would probably edit at that point. RUVVV YOUUUUU! <3
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Post by turkey on Nov 18, 2009 19:04:39 GMT -5
Sadiq could tell it was coming…had been with and understood the body-language of too many people to be caught unawares. It was all a battle to Herakles, one of wits, and who was willing to push farther. For Herakles, there were boundaries—boundaries that would not be crossed for the sheer glory of ‘withstanding’ longer than Sadiq. For Sadiq, such boundaries did not exist. It was not for pride that he held himself back, but for Herakles. Had he known that Herakles would not resist, and welcome the affection, he would not have faltered for a moment. He had only restrained himself for so long in fear of hurting Herakles.
…Vaguely, as Sadiq prepared himself for the rejection, he wondered what would happen if Herakles knew. It was a bitter thought, for Sadiq knew the answer—Herakles would’ve pushed him away before Sadiq had even had a chance to touch him. When it was a game…a challenge…it was allowed to come this far. It was the only hope that Sadiq could hold onto as far as their relationship went. It could exist as long as they were fighting…as soon as either called peace, there could only be indifference. Sadiq knew he would rather have Herakles’ hate, than mean nothing to him.
He allowed Herakles to push him back, their lips separating with an audible ‘pop’. Silence. Sadiq did not attempt to fill the void with any sardonic comment, or to laugh as he knew he ought to have. It hurt. He would never say it, but the pain of being pushed away felt like a knife in his side.
Hesitantly, as an uncertain child reaching toward the unknown, Sadiq raised one arm. It was a visceral reaction—a simple part of him that wanted to prolong the touch. He moved slowly, lethargically, as if moving in a suspended state of time. His fingers extended, now a mere hairs-bredth from the man’s cheek. He wanted Herakles to understand…to know without needing to say anything. To break the façade just long enough to admit…admit something. Perhaps just to show that he wasn’t all teeth and nails of biting criticisms. Yet as his eyes flickered up, for once void of the lively passion that seemed to emanate from them, and instead replaced by a somber dullness, and met with Herakles’. As if he’d been burned touching a pot of boiling water, he pulled back, the tip of his index finger only briefly brushing against the Grecian’s cheek. His hand receded to his side, the illusion fell. He suppressed the lingering emotions, and forced himself to smile. A controlled smirk, akin to the one Herakles was no doubt used to.
He silenced the voices in his mind; it was not a hard task after so many years of doing it. This was what it had always been…what it would always be. Even if there was the slightest possibility that it could change, he would never be able to make it. He would never admit, never make himself vulnerable, and never allow Herakles to see him on such a “human” level. He tried to tell himself that this was fine…to an extent, he had at least tried to act on his feelings. Not in the best way, of course…but the rejection was the same no matter how one looked at it. Herakles would never understand this. ““So quick to put yourself down like some snotty teenage girl. Finally get that sex change you’ve always wanted?” Snarky again—their level on contact reestablished. Sadiq wanted to imagine that the sexual tension he had created would quickly disappear…that it would soon become nothing but a memory to the younger. He would forget it, marking it as only one in a list of Sadiq’s torments.
He tried to reassure himself in his mind that things could persist this way. This was for the best, and he could finally stop wondering over the “maybes”. He would never have Herakles—not in the sense that it mattered. Perhaps he would have Herakles in a sexual sense…yes, everyone who knew the man knew how openly sexual he was. Sadiq wished that could give him some form of solace, but the comfort would not come. So often he had dreamed of one day claiming Herakles’ body—a sick, perverted fantasy that he had told no one. Yet such fantasies held no light against what he truly desired. More than the throughs of passion, of scattered sheets and writhing bodies beneath a pale moon light, he would imagine what would happen if they were “together”. He envisioned starry nights out in the fields… holding the boy close when he became cold. He could see Herakles cooking in his kitchen, while Sadiq sat at the side and eagerly insulted the Grecian’s abilities. It didn’t so much matter what he was envisioning, as long as Herakles was there. They were so different from one another, but it was one of the things Sadiq held so dear. Herakles was the only person who could ever get under his skin, and there was good reason for it. He had practically raised the boy…watched him throughout the years. Even so, he could not, and was sure he would never, understand him completely. Sadiq was good with people—he could almost always read them within moments of meeting them, understand their personalities, their vices, their reservations. Not Herakles…he would forever be an enigma.
Yet Sadiq was not sentimental—not on an outside level, at least. Herakles would see only the lively, snarky mentor figure he had known for so long. Sadiq wouldn’t have it any other way.
He took a step back, furthering the distance between them. Reaching into his coat pocket, he again pulled out the cold porcelain mask, fitting it back into place over his face. It acted, where he couldn’t, as the mask to his emotions. “Feh. Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around this dump anyways? Stop slacking brat, and get to it!” Teasing, again…but it hardly mattered. He just needed to move the subject on a different path. If he treated it as though it were the ‘nothing’ that he was sure Herakles did, they could easily over-look the kiss.
It was better having a negative relation than none, after all.
OOC: NO PROOFREADING FOR YOOOU. And stfu hun. You're writing completely blows me away. Like how you "blow me away" EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. Sorry if this is confusing...I tend to be cray-cray
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Post by hera on Nov 23, 2009 2:49:22 GMT -5
That was all there was to it. He just had to break away, just had to hold back each and every muscle, just had to bury the emotions that now brimmed through his whole being. It seemed so simple. Nothing could have been more difficult.
His heart skipped a beat, five beats. The man reached his hand toward his face. Herakles didn’t care if he had slapped him or held his jaw in his palm to kiss him once more. He needed that touch; he needed it more than he had ever realized he had needed anything. As Sadiq withdrew, the Grecians’ heart sank to the bottom of his toes, breaking quietly. He just wanted so say “fuck it all” and throw himself against the man, throw his dignity and caution to the wind. Throw away the damned morals and idiotic social barriers. He wanted to be held in those tanned arms, to kiss the scruff of Sadiq’s cheeks.
He couldn’t, though. And that was all there was to it.
The man smirked. Herakles tried to reciprocate the grin, not physically, of course. He tried to just brush off what had just happened with a childish mental smile. The memory of the Turk’s lips against his own burned into his mind forever. He felt that he would never forget the smell of myrrh and cigarettes, the feeling of Sadiq’s hands against his body, their lips connecting. He didn’t want to forget this. Whether he would reflect on the memory as a lesson of the heart, or as a simple indulgence, he did not want to forget what had just passed between the two. Herakles thought of how Sadiq would laugh at the blow he had just dealt, how he would have smiled with such delight to hear the idiotic romanticisms of his heart. It was so childish. So pathetic. The only way the two ever interacted was in such a way that was so above Herakles. It was the only way the two talked to one another, though. So he just had to deal with it.
As the room filled with a silence, the Grecian decided he would just avoid any and all conversation for the rest of the day. He just couldn’t take any more. The morning had brought such high hopes. He had already experienced a myriad of emotions he thought he would never feel. The boy was exhausted. In spite of his shame, he wanted so desperately to take a hold of Sadiq’s hand and lead him to Herakles’ apartment. Maybe take a nap. They would sleep in the afternoon sun, in each others arms. The idea was so appealing, such fantasies of the mind always are. His mind flickered back to the kiss. He closed his eyes, stomping the mental image out. He was acting like a love struck girl. Pathetic. Stop it. [/b][/i] The gap between the two grew wider and wider with each passing second. As Sadiq stepped back, Herakles turned his eyes to the ground. The Turk spoke but he did not listen. He could feel the same old tone in the man’s voice. Ah, things are…back to normal again.[/i][/b] Herakles cleared his throat. He ran his hands down his shirt, smoothing out the little wrinkles. The atmosphere was so different now, he could taste it in the lingering air. It almost seemed as if…Sadiq was feeling the same as he? Do not be such a fool.[/b] He looked back up at the man, his mask in place once more. Herakles nodded slowly in regard to the statement, taking the steps toward the door. Coming closer to Sadiq. His eyes lingered on the porcelain. He was now to the side of the Turk, his head turned slightly toward the man. Herakles opened his mouth to speak, decided against it, and then closed his lips. He walked on, opened the door. The library was almost empty, save for a few students. He cleared his throat once more, glancing back to see if Sadiq was following. Hsi feet were heavy, they echoed in the dark trenches of his mind. A little epiphany hit the Grecian. He pushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to play the optimist, though. He did put his hands…no, Herakles. He did this because Sadiq knows the language of the body. He knows how to utilize this language in his favor.[/b] A pause. Despite his warnings to himself, his mind ventured on. And still…[/i][/b] The Grecian rubbed at his temples as he wearily continued on. They passed rows of books, he gestured nonchalantly toward them. Each row sported a sign at the end, obviously stating what the shelf consisted of. He didn't feel the need, nor did he want to have to explain the blatant to the man. They arrived at the front desk, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. It was so odd, that Herakles be in the moment like this. Usually he was off in some other time, some other place, reciting the words of dead kings and prophets. Yet here he was, painfully aware of his surroundings, of his company. He looked around for the head librarian, who was obviously not there. Another wave of exhaustion slowly lapped at his consciousness. He was past embarrassment at this point, past humiliation and disappointment. Herakles wanted only to leave the library. He wanted to drink his sorrows away with a good couple of wine bottles and then sleep a dreamless sleep. The Grecian slipped behind the desk and sat ungracefully at one of the chairs. He glanced at Sadiq, then at another chair that stood as far from him as possible. A stroke of professionalism dabbled at the back of his mind. He tried to look into the covered eyes of his new co-employee. "Any questions?"[/b] OOC: Hey. No proofread. LOL. [/size][/blockquote]
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