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Post by turkey on Dec 5, 2009 6:06:21 GMT -5
Any questions? Was what the Grecian had asked. As broadly as possible, as simple as need be. At the end of one particularly mundane tour, with a man who spoke in a particularly monotone voice, with a particularly infuriating situation lofting overhead…and now Herakles asked for questions?
Yeah, Sadiq had some questions. Ranging among the top of them: why the hell had he given up so easily? It wasn’t like the Turk to let a wound fester. When something was wrong, he fixed it. If he wanted someone, he had them. Sadiq had a power over people that was either the sheer force of determined will, or some mixture of charm and sexual appeal. Either way, Sadiq was rarely rejected what he wanted. Life came easily to him—he had never had to work terribly hard to gain what he wanted. Things seemed to slip into his hands…and like grains of sand, slip right through the cracks when he became bored with them. Not only had Herakles persisted within his interest, but he still remained out of reach. Just barely out of his grasping range…and Sadiq somehow knew that were he to drop all of the grains he held onto, he might just be able to grab at the boy. What, then, prevented him?
He already knew the answer. He was tired. Not in a physical sense—though the mental fatigue was also attributing to a certain physical fatigue that was suddenly making the prospect of ‘work’ seem more than unpleasant. He was tired of fighting for something impossible; it’d taken him eight years to realize just how fruitless his desires were. No…more correctly, it had taken a mere quarter of an hour. It had taken only one misplaced kiss, one shove, and one exchange of words to crush him. Eight years in solitude couldn’t satiate his questions. No amount of self-reflection had saved him from transcending their flimsy familial bonds. He had kissed Herakles. Why? Why, when he knew what there was to risk? Was he simply hasty? Or just tired, finally, of the chase? Was he the Setter, finally grown weary of the meticulous chase and daring to catch the bird he was only bred to point to? Had he snapped the neck of the fragile creature after all of this time—ruined all chance of returning to the chase that had been his life?
He felt pathetic. He had no idea what he had done. He felt sick—he was beginning to realize the greater implications for what he had done; what Herakles had done to him. There was another question—why did Herakles have such an effect on him? How was it possible for one man to lodge himself so firmly under his skin?
Yes, Sadiq had plenty of questions; questions that only Herakles could answer. Questions whose answers had the potential to set him free—to snip the snaring bonds of doubt, confusion, and shame.
Yet none slipped forward. No profound utterance did he make. He couldn’t. There was no conceivable way that Sadiq could form the questions. His mind wouldn’t let him, his heart protested, and no doubt his lips would clam shut before he could dare give himself away. His entire body would rebel against him—Sadiq wondered, then, from what part of him was the voice shouting “Say something!” coming from? That hidden, conceptual part of a human that some considered ‘the soul’? The unknown person that hid beyond the veil of formalities and superfluous masks? Nah—couldn’t have been, Sadiq assured himself. He was just confusing himself…he was certain of it.
His eyes flickered upwards to Herakles, taking in the ever-uninterested features. He had the sudden urge to kiss him again—to do anything to get a reaction out of him. He hated that professional, apathetic look. It was the look Herakles reserved for everyone else. Sadiq knew he was special in Herakles’ life…even if it was in a negative light. No matter how Herakles protested or argued, neither could deny: Herakles almost never wore that uninterested look around him. And when he did, Sadiq was usually certain that it was a mask. It was a shield to block off his true emotions, and deter Sadiq.
…Somehow, Sadiq was quite certain that such wasn’t the case now. He didn’t take the seat, but instead leaned against the counter. ”Any questions?” He asked, vocalizing the first part of the question he had asked himself. He put on a characteristic smirk—he couldn’t understand the situation, but that certainly wouldn’t stop him from making fun of Herakles at any opportunity that he could. ”Yeah, I have one for you. Where the hell did you learn to give a tour? That was the most pathetic excuse for one that I’ve ever seen!” He rolled his eyes (not that this was visible, of course), and stood fully upright, arms crossed and staring down at Herakles. ”A trained chimp could do your job, brat. How the hell do you still have a job here?”
His questions, though poorly structured and not in the least bit mature—of which he fully knew—merely served his purpose of regressing their relationship. They could pretend that the confusion never occurred—rub it away with a few chide remarks. All he needed was to forget; rather, all he needed was to remember that this was the way things were. He knew who he was, and he knew who Herakles was—their atrophic relationship could persist only in this way. "Just tell me when the hell I get out of here...and I'll go sort some damn papers or something."
…And Sadiq would tolerate it. He would eventually drown away his confusion and his problems. A well-aged bottle of wine, or the delights of intertwined sheets could certainly lull the mind into a state of complacency.
OOC: GUESS WHO ISN'T GETTIN' A PROOF REAAAAD?
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Post by hera on Dec 28, 2009 6:16:08 GMT -5
Was it that natural “instinct” that urged the boy’s thoughts along? Or was it simply Herakles thinking desperately? He was no mind reader, but he was not as oblivious as people made him out to be. He still saw the subtleties that could only make him further wonder Sadiq’s thoughts.
Would this afternoon ever end? Herakles wondered as he eyed the man leaning against the counter. There was no thing more appealing than the thought of crawling into a hole and letting a good couple of weeks pass before he came back out. Maybe then Sadiq would find some new play toy or get caught up with another ridiculous dalliance and forget this afternoon. Maybe pigs would learn to fly in that time spent as well. Herakles was just so damn tired. He thought that he could not give the slightest anymore…that is until Sadiq opened his mouth with a fresh bucket of sass.
The Grecian looked past the man as he continued to belittle Herakles, trying to block out the little annoying emotions that tickled his mind. He wanted so desperately to throw his hands in the air and let a steady stream of curse words out at the Turk. He also wanted to throw his hands around that same man and kiss him as deeply as his public censors would allow, but those thoughts needed to be suppressed for now.
Maybe it was because he was subconsciously looking for an excuse, or maybe it was because being compared to an ape really did hurt his feelings, Herakles could not quite tell why he did what he was beginning to do. His eyes flickered up into the mask that Sadiq wore. The Grecian pondered on the man’s porcelain. Why wear it now? Herakles had seen his face time and time again. It just seemed like a hassle to the Grecian. Was it possible that Sadiq was not as in control as Herakles had believed? Maybe the Turk was just as confused and aggravated as the Grecian was.
He stood quickly, his eyes retaining their hold on Sadiq’s covered ones. They were a good five inches or so from one another, give or take a good inch. Although he did not match the Turk’s stature, he felt in no way, shape or form lower than the man.
Herakles Karpossi, you will regret this decision, you know this to be true. His left hand reached for the front of Sadiq’s shirt, as he grabbed at the cloth, a grimace of sorts pricked at his lips. You will regret not doing this as well…so really, there is only one option that you can act on. [/b] The Grecian glanced at the man’s lips for the shortest of seconds. He asserted his body, adjusting his feet so that they were planted to the ground. In the moments that followed, Herakles did something that was so out of his character, it almost seemed inconceivable. His lips parted to speak, the tone of his voice thick with aggravation. The Grecian made sure to talk loudly enough so that no one else but the two would hear his words. ”You will leave when I damned see fit. And there is no way in hell I am going to see you prancing around this place with that smug face on. So you are going to justify yourself right now.”[/b] Did he want to hear Sadiq’s explanation though? What if he did not like what he heard? What if Sadiq broke his heart yet again? Would Herakles react in the adult way that he should, or would he let his heart get the better of him? The first seeds of doubt planted themselves firmly into his mind. Herakles damned himself. He could tell already that he did not want to hear a single word from the Turk. He just wanted to… His fingers held fast to Sadiq’s front. Herakles was filled with an intensity he had not felt in a long while. His emotions teetered from terror to aggravation, fear to strength. The little seeds took root fast, he began to wonder what sort of scene he was currently making. He almost dared to look away from Sadiq to see if any students were watching. This is what you get, Herakles. You should never let your control slip like this. [/b][/i]The thought of Sadiq's words were terrifying, but the thought of Sadiq winning against the Grecian, holding such an embarrassing situation over his head was damned unbearable. Herakles had made a final decision. He was done for the day. He didn’t want to hear an explanation or any sort of justification. He just wanted simplicity. Life would never give him such a gift. Since the dawn of time, man struggled with the implications of the world. Why in God’s graces would Herakles be rewarded with something as incredibly rare as simplicity? The Grecian bit at the inside of his lip, then pulled the man down and kissed him hard. As their lips connected once more, Herakles could only feel a sense of elation. He theorized that this was a much more efficient way of getting an answer from Sadiq without the awkward way of words. If the man kissed him back, he kissed him back- as simple as he could afford. If he pushed Herakles back, then his actions would speak much louder than any words could. It was spontaneous, yes. It was also incredibly illogical and could possibly get him fired, but the fact of the matter was Herakles held his relations with others much higher than a job at a library full of brats. And for now, he was enjoying a stolen kiss from a man that was forbidden from him. The Grecian was approving of this method much more than an awkward chat. The language of the body was so much more vocal than any other form of communication. OOC: Lol. Written at 3AM. It could be hellllllllza shitty but I'm too tired to care. Enjoy my crazy Herakles....he's a tricky one. failpost is fail[/size][/blockquote]
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Post by turkey on Apr 13, 2010 4:50:00 GMT -5
There were few things that could shock Sadiq. He thought of himself as an experienced, well-travelled man—one who had seen most of what the world had to offer. Horror, tragedy, romance, betrayal; the long years had given the man a clear retrospect of the world around him. Simply put, Sadiq could anticipate and expect just about anything. Herakles’ departure, regardless of how painful it may have been at the time, had been something he expected. Finding the male again—expected. Giving in to his long-stifled desires…a bit less expected, given his usual willpower, but still a prevalent thought he had had over time.
He was not terribly shocked at Herakles’ grabbing his shirt and barking commands; oh, he had seen the man’s violent side! He had seen it on brief occasion when the man was a child—watched when, after having pushed a few too many buttons, the Grecian would finally fight back. That carefully constructed mask of dormancy would fall for but an instant, and Herakles would show his inner-strength. And oh, Sadiq knew it was there! Despite how calm and simple Herakles tried to appear, Sadiq knew of the boy’s hidden passion. Of course, Sadiq had been the only (as far as he knew), to actually want to push him to that level of irritation…to actually look for ways to force him there. Most people considered Herakles a great person, he knew this. They got along with him well, never once feeling the need to dig deeper and probe Herakles for more answers than they needed. As far as Sadiq knew, he was the only person depraved and sadistic enough to have desired, much less done, anything to anger Herakles. He simply loved seeing him riled up—anything was better than that bland apathy he put forward. It was perhaps a perverse reminder that he was the only person that could inspire such passion—perhaps it was an obscure notion that he was the only person Herakles could feel passionate enough about to actually bark orders at. When the order came to justify himself, the feeling of dread and shame quickly vanished. Had he been wrong? He had to hide a grin at the prospect—perhaps he had jumped the gun in his analysis? Perhaps Herakles did care about the Turk’s actions. Or…perhaps this was a mere furthering of the rift between them; that it was only Herakles’ way of showing that he felt no differently than the day that he had left—that he still didn’t understand in the slightest, and saw Sadiq as a mere annoyance. Was he but the antagonist he had seen as a child, still?
There was but one thing that shocked the Turk—only one thing that could shake him to his core, and make him reconsider, in mere moments, everything he thought he knew. He had opened his mouth to speak, but Herakles clearly had other plans for him; for in the next moment, his lips were promptly shut by the sudden pull, and presence of another set upon his own. Flabbergasted, befuddled, petrified—all words too meek to describe what Sadiq felt. Never before had he felt so…wrong. Wrong in motive, wrong in desire…and simply wrong in fact, if the soft, plump lips so tantalizingly against his own were anything to go by.
In that moment, Sadiq lost it—though what exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. His sense of comprehension, his control over himself, and his reservations against the act. With that single kiss, Herakles had changed the entire dynamic of the game. This was no longer an old man feeling as though he was floundering within a lost game—no longer one sided. At that point had they transcended the realm of mentor and ward, father and son—whatever obscure relationship they had had without label. He had never assumed, in any sense of reality, that he would be in this situation. He had always assumed that the day his feelings festered and rotted into deprivation, it would be the day he would sully their relationship with force.
Instincitvely, Sadiq desired to push away—but necessity kept him still. He had always been the instigator—the one in control. If he wanted to kiss someone, you can be damn sure that it would be him grabbing their short and forcing their card. Being on the other end of that spectrum was nothing short of disconcerting. And for once, he was completely silent. His movements neither demanded or repulsed, feeling himself oddly stagnant. His mind had short-circuited; none of this made sense. Slowly, with an awkward uncertainty, Sadiq reacted. His lips parted, enveloping Herakles’ lower petal and kissing the man with a fervor he had long forgotten.
As if he’d quite forgotten who he was (or, perhaps, how he was supposed to act), Sadiq pulled back sharply, a certain hesitancy prevalent on his features: furrowed eyebrows, wrinkled nose, and a certain imploring manner of eyes that seemed to beg the truth from Herakles. Sadiq didn’t consider himself the brightest man—especially when it came to reading people. Herakles had his Socrates and Plato…Sadiq had always preferred just about anything over taking time to analyze something extensively. He found himself at a disadvantage suddenly; in parts subjugated to Herakles’ whim. He wanted to believe the simplicity of it, that it was simple desire that led to their intertwined lips. Yet a niggling part of his brain wouldn’t let him dive head in. Herakles was smart. Herakles knew people, having spent much of his life observing them. Herakles was probably playing him for a fool, a sneering revenge for the stunt Sadiq had pulled earlier. The thought, though he would never admit out loud, frightened him. Herakles had no idea of the power he held over Sadiq, despite how often Sadiq alluded to the fact that Herakles was an insignificant spec on his radar. Herakles was someone he would never understand—the mystery of the younger male was both what allured and repelled him.
His hesitance lasted but a moment. Brushing the boy’s bangs out of his face, Sadiq rubbed down the length of Herakles’ jaw. His hands lightly cupped the right side of Herakles’ face, the pad of his thumb brushing over that reddened bottom lip. His heart pounded in his chest—was it audible?. A part of him felt ridiculous; it had only been a kiss. One simple kiss, among the countless hundreds he’d had over the span of his life. If only he could convince himself that it was true. That he wasn’t nervous, that this annoying brat wasn’t making him feel like the most ignorant, anxious person alive. Yes, if only that could be true. If only he could deny that spark, the fact that he involuntarily pushed back into that kiss, that he melted when those goddamn olive eyes bored into his own; that alluring scent, that silent strength, even that demanding tone. All uniquely Herakles, encompassing and enveloping him. He felt he might drown in it all—how did one take all of that in?
With a smile, he pulled his thumb away from the others’ lip, replacing the digit with a soft, lingering kiss. No use playing into Herakles’ game too quickly, despite the gravitational pull he had on the Turk. He would keep the man on his toes for as long as he possibly could—though Herakles had an illusion of control, Sadiq wasn’t about to consent to his whims like a virginal young maiden. Herakles better have known what he was getting into…because Sadiq wasn’t planning on making it easy for him. He smirked as he pulled lightly back from the man’s lips. “Look at you, Hera~ Now this is the side of you I like!” He gave no more warning beyond a hollow chuckle. With a speed alluding to his years of experience, Sadiq grasped the Grecian by the back of the hair, threading his fingers into the mahogany locks. He pulled Herakles roughly, smashing their lips together in a forceful kiss. His fingers pulled lightly at the man’s hair, inwardly cursing the desk between them. He would have liked nothing more than to tear off that bastard’s shirt and shove him against the very desk before them.
He was not far gone enough, however, to completely forget where he was. As interesting as the idea of public shenanigans may have been, Sadiq was a private man when it came to such matters of intimacy. It was never about debasing and kink for him, but in the privacy of two souls coming together…or perhaps three, when the occasion called for it. Breaking the kiss, he whispered against the other’s lips, their lips touching with each word spoken. “Well your majesty, do you see fit to let me leave now? Or do you plan on detaining me?” His voice was soft and oddly resonant, with an unearthly timbre about it. There was no missing his usual brand of malicious sarcasm within it.
He had no words to explain their situation—was there even a label to explain such a relationship? Neither friends, enemies, nor lovers, they had somehow transcended those rankings. Contrasting each other in almost every way possible, Sadiq could think of only one word to explain it: venomous.
OOC: Ahahahaa. Ahhh. Better four months late then never? Sorry...but I'm glad you're deciding to staaay! Oh, and totally not proofreading this monster. Fuck my couch.
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