It was a bloody swipe on the cheek that started it all.

It really shouldn't have.


They were at war, thirsty for each other's blood, in a mad race to see the other fall.

Greece had only just managed to wrap his arms around the Turk's neck, felt the adrenaline in his veins, and worked hard to just end it all here, so that he and his troops could go home victorious.

His hands may have wrapped the other's throat up in a desire to kill, a thirst for blood, but Sadiq had never been born a quitter and while his hands strove to find a way to scramble those pesky fingers off of his throat, his feet kicked out willingly to harm the other.

The way his toes skidded and hit something as important as they did should not have excited Heracles so, but it did.

Hands roughly pushed bodies together as lips found purchase with their teeth as a new battle began, and may be it was fitting for the younger of the two to be drawn in by threats of pain and pain, itself, as he'd certainly liked Sadiq long enough by this point.

His hands tucked that bristly face closer as his feet almost circled the waist before him as he dug in deep, tongue exploring ruthlessly as he felt gravity lock himself to the ground with one Turk on top.

They should be killing each other, striving to defeat the other, and get revenge for all the wrong they'd done to each other by this point, but their bodies ached for something more than revenge that suddenly seemed so petty with warmth right there.

Heracles let his hands explore almost curiously despite instinct desiring to maim, to kill this man as he felt muscles, almost smooth to the touch from the blood and sweat of the battlefield and crusted over from what little had dried.

The Greek felt his body react instinctively to arch against a rather mischievous touch from the Turk above him as he relented just this once to a fire that burned brighter than the adrenaline of war.