Again.
For the love of all things feline, they were at it at a meeting again.
AGAIN.
Heracles found the sounds of their activities to be addictive; no matter how much his head screamed for his legs to move, for his body to flee, he was bound to that spot outside the linen closet of Parliament. Arthur, he was sure, was blissfully unaware of the defilement taking place so near his starched, clean sheets and draperies.
"Y-yes! Oh God, oh…oh! Alfred, please! Oh god, don't stop! Don't stop!"
Why? Why did that disgusting American have the ability to make Kiku sound like that? Shy, reserved, traditional little Kiku, screaming in ecstasy as his body became a tool for a puppeteer's amusement, it was vile…
"P-please! Don't ever stop! E-even if my spine breaks, keep-AAAH!"
His legs received the delayed message, and he pitched forward down the hallway. He had to get away, far away, away and never see Kiku's eyes again…never look into that dark, mysterious gaze, or feel the warmth of a comfortingly soft hand on his arm, never be close to his sweet-smelling hair again…
"What the hell are you running from, cat bastard?"
Sadiq. Sadiq was standing in front of him. He'd just run into Sadiq in a head-on collision.
Sadiq had expressive, fiery eyes, nothing like Kiku's guardedly blank stare. His skin was the opposite of the Japanese porcelain he'd become so infatuated by, it was an exotic tan, not unlike his own. He was tall where Kiku barely came to his shoulders, his toned muscles stretching only slightly against his cologne-misted suit. Kiku never wore cologne, he smelled good all on his own.
Sadiq and Kiku were opposite ends of the spectrum, especially when Sadiq glowered at him, like just then in the hallway…
"I asked you a question, numb-dick! Are you deaf now along with being an imbecile?"
He grabbed the front of Heracles' shirt, yanking him the short distance off the floor to be eye-level, his glare only intensifying at the sight of the Greek's expression, one of a dazed confusion. He spit on the floor between them, a low growl emitting from his throat.
"Or are you just too fucking stuck-up to answer?"
Kiku never growled. Kiku was never so vulgar.
A second later, he'd thrown himself into Sadiq's torso, invading the Turk's mouth with his tongue and wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. He felt Sadiq go half-limp, backing him into the drably decorated wall behind them, and he impulsively pushed his hips forward in a grinding motion.
Kiku was dissipating from his mind then, as he poked and prodded behind his old rival's teeth, discovering in a mild astonishment that Sadiq tasted sweet. Sweet, sweet like he'd just eaten ten lollipops or cakes, perhaps with blue frosting…the kind Kiku despised with great revulsion…Kiku only liked salty foods, he'd taste like a fish…
Who was Kiku? A man with dark hair, a tiny build, dark eyes…who?
Sadiq's hands had drifted downwards and were now resting loosely on Heracles' hips. He could feel their merged saliva dribbling from their lips and down their chins. He felt it spilling down his throat and into his shirt collar, and he pulled away for a breath of air.
"…wh-what…?"
Heracles silenced the man before him, dominating his tongue again in a sort of lustful warlike maneuver. He was sure that in some way, shape or form he'd pay dearly for this, but to hell with consequences, to hell with being rational or caring any more. He'd lost the one he loved, and Sadiq was standing here without even trying to fight back. This would be one hell of a rebound.
He took hold of one of the Turk's lifeless hands, moving it to the front of his own pants and rubbing it up and down, pressing it close to his growing hardness. Even through his trousers he could feel the calloused texture of Sadiq's fingers, loving the scratchy contrast to what he knew Kiku's hands felt like…
Kiku doesn't exist now. There only exists this hallway, this hallway containing Sadiq and himself and the lust he knew was growing between them. He took another breath, a break from the kiss…
"F-fuck!"
And suddenly, he was a foot back from Sadiq's body. The Turk was shaking, his hand wiping furiously at the spit on his face, his eyes blazing with fury that could only be described as white hot. He look as if he was about to collapse, and Heracles felt a pang of regret.
"What the fucking shit do you think you're doing!"
He walked forward hesitantly, raising his hands in a submissive gesture. Sadiq looked confused and humiliated and furious and…so vulnerable.
Vulnerable.
He remembered vaguely, the nights he'd become so terrified as a child, with storms raging in the sky and destroying the land around him. He remembered fleeing to this same Turk's bedroom, and resentfully reveling in the aura of strength that surrounded him, curling into bed with his caretaker and feeling safe from the fury around them.
That very same Sadiq now quivering and looking so weak before him now…
He slid his arms around Sadiq, this embrace utterly void of the aggression he'd felt before, thoughts of Kiku now nonexistent from his heart, and he heard only the frantic beating of the Turk's heart, his sharp inhalations and the faint chattering of his teeth. Sadiq was scared. Heracles clenched shut his eyes and nuzzled the side of his face into the other man's strong torso, willing those shaking arms to encircle him and praying for reality to return and make him the susceptible one once more.
"I'm…sorry…"
"You little fucking brat."
Hands clenched his shoulders, forcing him backwards, compelling him to meet that fiery gaze once again. Sadiq's eyes had lost their ferocity, and the emotion that replaced them made Heracles go stony where he stood. He looked so lost…he looked as if he'd seen a child murdered before him and was forbidden to stop it. By the Gods, was that glimmer in the corner a tear?
"What the fuck are you on, Heracles?"
The use of his name, his human name, made him throb ever so slightly down below his waistline.
"Did you buy pot from Alfred or something?"
Alfred. Alfred Jones, the American, the bastard American who was at this very minute defiling an angel in a linen closet…that disgusting smile, that horrible nonchalant, happy-go-lucky attitude…that vile, awful manipulator of a country…
He lunged for Sadiq's mouth again, and let out a whispered scream of frustration when he was pushed off. Persistent, he pushed his lips against Sadiq's warm, cologne-bathed throat and pressed a kiss to the weathered skin, gripping his jacket like a lifeline and yanking him closer, forcing his hips to lessen their grinding.
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Please…please help me…please, Sadiq…just one time…and I'll never…ask again…"
~ * ~
It was the tortured wavering in Heracles' voice that dissolved the last of Sadiq's anger. He loosened his grip on the Greek's shoulders, pulling him away gently and staring into his face again. His little treasure, is what he once was, with those misty eyes and that lost expression…he'd never changed, Heracles hadn't, he'd been the same for hundreds of years. Those bemused little eyes had seen so much blood and so much violence and war and hell…
As of now, he looked more broken than Sadiq had ever seen. What had he seen, what had he been through to make him like this? With his face in the state it was there wasn't any way Sadiq could refuse him. Heracles' gaze was melting his will and heating his body, and in the state he was in, Sadiq was certain, he'd dive to hell if Heracles only spoke the words.
Why was this happening now?
"…what'dya want me to do?"
He was a Mediterranean country. He knew heat. He knew humidity and the blazing sun.
And yet, laying in one of Arthur's spare beds with the lights off, the drapes pulled shut, and the A/C on full blast, he'd never felt hotter.
The two of them had long since shed their clothes. Heracles traced a finger daintily over Sadiq's toned abdomen, over the abs the Turk had come to obsess over, and gently kissed the skin on his collarbone. The Turk's expression never changed; a stoic, foreword stare, but Heracles paid it no mind. He'd promised, he'd said clearly in the hall only minutes ago that he'd do what Heracles desired of him.
Heracles desired a night. A single night to erase the physical imprints Kiku had so cruelly left on him, making him feel deprived and desperate the way he was…he knew Sadiq's polar opposite status of Kiku could break that spell, and by the gods, that erection of his looked too decadent to pass up.
He opened his legs, reaching with his right hand to hold and suspend his right leg and hook it over Sadiq's shoulder. He could feel the hardened tip pressing against him and a moan escaped him as his back arched on its own. Sadiq was pushing forward, and the heat was only growing. He felt as though a magma vent had broken inside him and was spewing the burning liquid into his veins. Sweat rolled down his back in cascades, soaking the starchy sheets as Sadiq pressed on. Not a moan nor a gasp nor a single word penetrated the Turk's lips, and in his blazing stupor he wondered if the man wasn't enjoying this half as much as he was.
Heracles pushed his body forward, impaling himself to the hilt on Sadiq's cock. He threw his head back; it was too much, too hot, too hard…his body was shaking and twisting into strange positions as he wrapped both legs around the Turk's hips, yanking him closer, pulling him farther and farther inside.
His body, no, their bodies were slick, soaked with sweat and practically aflame with desire, and Heracles could only blindly embrace the man above him, pumping him in and out in a delicious rhythm, coming closer and closer to his breaking point.
"A-AH!" Sadiq! Oh! Oh, Gods, yes! Harder, damn it all…harder!"
Sadiq obeyed like a slave, increasing his speed and thrusting the head of his cock, hard as a diamond, deeper and deeper into the Greek's inside, destroying the flesh and ramming that one special spot over and over.
Red stars clouded over Heracles' vision; his orgasm was coming, and wildly he begged any God that was listening to let Sadiq be feeling the same. He wanted his Turkish bedmate to finish at the same time, deep inside of him, like a man would to impregnate a woman.
"Damn it, Sadiq!" he screamed as his rapture grew even closer, "don't ever stop! Even if you break my spine, don't you dare fucking stop!"
…even if my spine breaks…
In that instant, he forgot what Kiku's voice sounded like, and he reached his finish, shrieking and tightening his hold almost impossibly on Sadiq's body, showering them both in his essence. He was lost in elation; Kiku's curse was broken, as he'd finally learned why the Japanese man was so dearly attached to Alfred.
He'd learned the feeling of what Alfred did to him.
~ * ~
Another thrust, and Sadiq reached his end, gasping nearly inaudibly as he let himself finish inside of the Greek clinging to him, feeling the thin trails of dribbling semen slide out of Heracles' body, down his cock, and onto the sheets. They were sure to have hell from Arthur to pay later.
He rolled onto his side, pulling the still-clinging Heracles to lie on top of him. His body was still hot and his skin was still quivering as he pulled out, and once more, their eyes met.
Heracles had never looked at him that way before. That devoted stare, the passion and admiration shining in his gaze were usually reserved for Kiku alone, that…
Kiku.
It had to have been, Sadiq realized as his heart sank, Heracles must've discovered Kiku in an…intimate moment with Alfred, and this was the result. He was Heracles' rebound, and tomorrow…none of it would have ever happened.
But the love in his eyes was too persistent to ignore. That's what it was, what was glinting behind those glazed irises was love.
His body exhausted, Sadiq closed his eyes, instinctively wrapping his other arm around the Greek's shoulders.
He could delude himself for just one night.