He has had much to think about. Too much; the thoughts weigh heavily on him, catching at his clothes and at the air and water around him to pull him downwards. It is most noticeable in the way that his eyes turn down, the heaviness of his chin where it wobbles down to look at his feet.
     There have been such grand sights that he has not been able to stay content with the view of his bare feet, however. Everywhere, there is such beauty - the architecture, the engineering, the natural surroundings and, of course, the people and beings. Even as dark as the places his thoughts take him may be, Tiernan cannot entire linger there.
     In a way, finding a place to be alone is a blessing...
     The platform is a flat ledge scooped into the side of the mountain, a combination of arching stone and green plants overhead to provide blessed shade from the sun's fingers. Flowering vines grow up along and over the stones at the lip of the ledge, an opening in the stones for cliff divers, those daring enough to climb this high. Now the sun glints on the water; the sound of the waves kissing the island's shore can be heard, along with the occasional cry of a gull. Out to sea, there are the two trade ships sitting impatiently anchored, as if held at bay from the island. Passages lead both down and up the mountain, honeycombing the interior as well as forming invisible trails along the exterior. The perfume of fruiting trees drifts with the salt and sea-spray; the light hits the waterfalls, producing dazzling rainbows where the water crashes and splashes and mists.
     Tiernan sits with his knees drawn partially up, elbows on his thighs and hands held to his lips as he looks out to the ships. "They are wondering about me," he remarks. It is not fretful, how he says it. He states it as a fact. "One or two of them might be trying to plot the location here. Most are worrying about how long I might be gone, wondering whether you can be trusted."

     He loves to serve...
     Agapios is doing it again, falling into the easy rhythm of pouring you something to drink. He is walking toward you with water so pure it could never have fallen from the sky. "They will find their instruments do not work," he smiles a little as he gracefully lowers himself, offering the glass to you. "And even if they managed to plot the course we sailed, the waters here are in constant motion. They would not find it again. That is the nature of Oannes. It is found... when it wishes to be."
     He is dressed in gauzy blue trousers, a kind of cotton one might guess. No shirt, but we wears bracers at his biceps, sparkling bronze with an inset stone of aquamarine. He is always shoeless. "But it is a strange thing to them, this meeting with my people. I can understand this. We will return to the ship day after tomorrow. I will ask that an offering of provisions be sent to the ship, compliments of Oannes."
     He does not ask how you are. You are nervous about this journey. Who wouldn't be. But he is calm in the face of such prospects. He is calm because that is the energy you need, he feels. And ...he is Agapios. When is he not calm? "Even if I win their trust," Agapios remarks with a slight smile to you, "...they would never trust me. It is not natural for sailors to trust. They must be suspicious of the wind, suspicious of the water, suspicious of the stars. I do not take offense at it."
     He sits upon his knees, his hands moving to your neck. His fingers begin to slowly knead. "We will not keep your men waiting. Tomorrow, you will meet my father, the Priest of Oannes. He will bless us, and we will hold a ritual together, you and I. For I believe in this journey of yours, Tiernan. And I believe you are turning toward some guiding star. You will plot your way to yourself. And I... I am your lucky dolphin, am I not?"
     Agapios slides his arms along your shoulder until he surrounds you from behind, his mouth brushing against your ear and face. "What sailor of legend ever sailed such a journey without a lucky charm dolphin?"

     You come towards him, and he looks up at you. His gaze lingers at your hips; at the way the cotton clings and drapes. It slides against your skin so gracefully. Slowly, Tiernan pulls his lower lip in between his teeth, sucking on it before allowing it to scrape free again. "I am honored by the invitation, that Oannes is willing to have me here, even if only on your sufferance."
     He accepts the water from you with a low murmur of thanks, his gaze shifting away from you at last. Back to the ocean, enormous as it is. "You are different from them," Tiernan says absently. "You do not fit into their structure. On a working ship, there is nothing but structure; there is a job for everyone, a place for everyone. Non-working passengers are rare. Ones who have no real need of the ship, who closet themselves with the ship's captain... they don't know what to make of it. They worry as to how it might affect the future. Their futures, their lives - I can understand that. Explanations wouldn't help; the only thing to ease them through it is a maintenance of discipline."
     He closes his eyes as your hands find his neck, his head tipping back slowly. "In a way," he whispers his admission, "in a way, I wish you were not going. I worry about what lies in store, Agapios. I want nothing bad to happen to you, yes? For myself, I can accept whatever risk I choose. But you ..." He leans back as you slide forward, letting a little of his weight rest against you. "I don't want to be your bad luck."

     "A life without challenge is just a prolonged nap," Agapios says, his arms wrapped around you, his body supporting yours as you lean back into him. It is a fit all too natural. "I am not afraid," he says at your ear. "And I would not have you going alone. If you were going to an island surrounded by lava," he smiles, ".. I would learn how to swim in fire. Maybe it is that my people are a social people. We do nothing singly. Fish swim in pods and schools. What one may do, two may do better."
     He hugs you lightly. "I care for you, Tiernan. And so... I swim beside your ship. I look out for your interest. I join you in your quests. Even poor, battered Odysseus did not finish the journey alone, hmm?" One arm remains wrapped around you as his other lifts, his fingers moving idly through and along the strands of your hair. That, too, is a kind of massage. "I do not want you to worry about me. I know it will be impossible," Agapios smiles, "...but work on it. I accept the risk, I accept the future. How could I do otherwise, if I accept your friendship?"
     Gently, he guides your face toward him, offering a champagne kiss. "I am different. I hope I have not caused undue concern for you. I am used to being looked upon in equal measures of fascination and revulsion from sailors," he grins. Agapios tilts his head, his aquamarine eyes fixed on you through another kiss.

     One corner of his mouth turns up in faint smile as he turns his head to look at you, to accept your kiss. "I am only not arguing with you because I can tell it would be pointless," Tiernan murmurs. "If I tried to forbid you, you would out-argue me, or you would turn up anyway. So I pretend I am letting you do what I cannot stop you from doing."
     His hand finds your hip, he turns around to look at you. "You have been keeping me at bay of the others," he observes. "Or maybe the other way around. Should I worry about that, instead of worrying about you?" He is not unobservant. And now, he offers you another small smile, water set aside so that he can turn to face you. "If they look at you with revulsion, then they need to adjust their sight. I find you interesting. Confusing. Complex. Different. But why would I, why should I be disgusted, why should I revile you? You are ... so much yourself."

     "I am not revolting to look at," Agapios grins. "Nor do I think you should be revolted by me. But I am sure there are sailors who think that I simply want to pull them to the deep and drown them for spite." He laughs at this, giddy with how funny that sounds. "They have heard too many bedtime stories. Anything that is strange, different is often feared. It does not trouble me. I only hope it does not trouble the balance, the ecosystem of your ship and the respect they owe you."
     As you turn to face him, he adjusts himself so he can sit facing you. Soon, his legs are wrapped around your hips, his arms lying upon your shoulders again. "I am glad you find me interesting," Agapios says. It is seriously expressed though that phrase could have easily been played for humor. "So much ... myself." He seems delighted by that turn of phrase. He smiles with sparkling eyes. "And what is that, I wonder. The quality of me being Me?"
     There is such enjoyment he takes in holding you and in being held by you. In being close to you, and in speaking quietly with you. There is such intimacy, open and easy, that moves between you. "You intrigue me. Even though you hate compliments," he smiles at you even before you have a chance to protest, "... your mind is sharper than Neptune's spear. And... no... you cannot stop me from following you. I am glad you see this. See? You are very smart, very wise, Tiernan." Laughing quietly, he leans in toward you, his legs squeezing around you, bracing him in his motions. "I do enjoy your humor... as much as I enjoy watching your mind work..."

     "There are others of your kind who might not be so gentle," Tiernan suggests. "To provide them with reason to fear. You seem strangely gentle. I do not know what to make of it. I am not sure how I feel about it."
     He has spent years in the company of one whose nature is dark, darker by far than yours appears to be. The contrast confuses him. It allows him to remain still as you wind your way about him, catching him in your arms and between your thighs as he leans slightly towards you. "It is an intuition of mine that some of your cousins," Tiernan nods to the sea, "would think me or my men more handsome if we were drowned. Asleep, but yet upon the waves; eyes closed and flesh relaxed in that slumber that will know no ending. With the heavy limbs and nodding head of an overtired child, and the seaweed platted through our hair in obscure weave - we, who are not as you, are then closest to being like you."
     The words come to him unbidden, unknown, and he looks to you without scarcely knowing that he has said them. His hand comes up to touch your cheek, then falls away. "You have the rarest quality of them all, Agapios. Yours is the quality of joy."
     And you compliment him, and he waits patiently, colour reddening his cheeks. For a moment, his gaze drops between you and he, then lifts to look at you. "I'm not that sharp." You knew the protest was coming, surely. "I have just had plenty of experience at bowing to the inevitable. I see no point in it being a graceless process."

     "As impossible as it is for you to argue with me on my following you, so it is for me to convince you to take a compliment," he smiles. "There are cousins of mine... my sisters also, I should think... who would beguile and drown. It is not my energy. Yes... I am filled with joy, with delight. I am no piranha, nor octopus either. But there are others who are, believe it or not, more joyful than I. There are others who are more severe. The sea-horse army commander. He is quite humorless," Agapios grins.
     He touches your face, his fingers find their way against your scalp again and he massages there, lightly tugging tresses. So varied are his touches, that no two seem the same. "You blush beautifully. Your skin gets warm. I can feel it from here," Agapios whispers with the slant of a smile. "And when you protest to things unnecessarily, it shows your tender humility. I tease you, but it is an admirable quality. You are not arrogant. You are quiet, intelligent, highly intelligent. You command well. You have a presence about you ... a strength that is there. A resilience that is there. Like an oak tree. Or a stone cliff. You have been battered by wind and rain, but you are still standing. I do not think you understand just how rare a thing you are, to have withstood what you have withstood, Tiernan. How remarkable you are. But... you will understand it one day. I think so."
     Cradling your face in his grasp, he leans in and closes the distance. His mouth lands upon your own, softly parting it. Like a wave lapping against the side of a boat, the kiss crests against your lips, your tongue. It comes with froth and bubbles, air and emotion. "I care for you," he whispers without embarrassment, the kiss hovering on the slight space between you. "And I see in you what you cannot yet see in yourself. That does not mean it's not there."

     He squirms - not much, but slightly. You are embarrassing him with such paeans of praise. "I could stand to be more humble," Tiernan murmurs to you. He is almost always so quiet; so soft-spoken, difficult to hear if one does not listen closely. He is silent more often than not. "And I am not anything remarkable, you know. It's kind of you to say so - kind of you to think so - but you shouldn't be putting me on any pedestals. I'll only fall off."
     His eyes drift shut as you frame his face with your hands, his mouth opening to yours - for a moment, free of any self-consciousness, free of anything but the moment itself. It passes as quickly as the kiss ends, and the self-consciousness returns with colour in his face. "I don't know," Tiernan says quietly. His hand pats at your shoulder a bit awkwardly. "I don't, you know. And ... I like you. But I am afraid you'll be hurt."

     "I know you have had varied experience in your life, but have you jumped off a cliff? You have never felt that exhilaration? That freedom," Agapios says. "When you go back to this home of yours without water, you will be jumping off the biggest cliff of your life. So," his arms relax their weight on your shoulders again, "... I think you should practice tonight, to prepare yourself."
     A hand patting your shoulder, then touching your head, Agapios begins to unwind himself from your lap. He stands, and those blue trousers seem like pooling water, so light the fabric. The waist of them hits just where his flesh would go cerulean as his hair, becoming porpoise-ful. It gives the same effect, and he moves on land as gracefully as he does in water.
     "Come," Agapios smiles, the warmth of that look beaming down at you. You amuse him, you tickle him, and you challenge him. But he does not shrink from such challenges. He offers you his hand. "We will start with small cliffs, I promise. And if you're lucky, I will dive for pearls later..."
     There is no point in saying no. Your denials shall simply not be accepted. He looks at you as if to say: Why are you still sitting?

     Blue eyes widen in shock - and horror. "N-no," Tiernan stammers, "I - no, thank you, but I do not want to jump off any cliffs." He goes slightly pale at the thought, colour leaving his face. "I'm rotten with heights. If it's a matter of life versus death, I'll do what I must to live, but no. Thank you all the same."
     Perhaps you will manage to talk him away from this one, but he does not get up; he does not take your hand. Instead, mulishly, he moves his hands to his sides, as if about to tuck them underneath himself. But he does not look sullen.
     Instead, he looks terrified...

     "It's only a metaphor," Agapios assures, his tone quieting as you appear distressed. He crouches down to look at you. "Do you wish to speak of it, Tiernan? Your fear of heights. If not... I shall respect that, of course. But I am here for you... if you wish to speak about what has you so afraid. For yourself, for me...for whatever..."
     He does not move. He balances easily on the balls of his feet. The hand he had extended to you reaches you in other ways, laying upon your head then brushing back your hair. "I meant and mean you no harm. You are dear to me. Already. I make friends fast, I realize." He smiles a little, poking fun at himself to comfort you.
     Comfort you. But he is not protecting you from the truth.
     His hand moves against your cheek and he sits again, giving you the comfort of his closeness, his warmth. "Whatever it is... if you believe you have the power to change it, the power to master it," Agapios murmurs close to you. "Then you shall."

     "Nothing to talk about," Tiernan mumbles, gaze turning down towards his knees. "I just ... I can deal with heights when I've got to. If I need to climb to the top of a mast, it's no bother. But open heights - open spaces..."
     He closes his eyes, a faint shudder moving through him, following the curved line of his spine. "I don't know," he says finally. "A flash of light followed by darkness. And a horrible pain; something of loss, I suppose. I don't know what it is, or what it means. If it means anything at all - just a bad dream, I imagine."
     He opens his eyes, turns his face up so that he can see you, looks at you, and his hand comes to cover yours for a moment. "I'm all right, you know," Tiernan whispers. "It's just a bad turn. It will pass."

     "We will not swim tonight," Agapios notes. "No open sea for you, not tonight. But I do think you should come to my bed." His lips curl in a slight smile. "My intentions are mostly honorable." Pause. "Quasi-honorable. You could do with a rub, I think. Comfort... luxury...a certain amount of spoiling."
     His fingers interlace with yours and he tilts his head to look at you from where you both sit. "Come with me," so the siren speaks. "I will make it worth the effort to move, to be sure."
     Maybe it is a bad dream. Agapios offers no answer, no hypothesis. It may be a memory. It may be just a simple phobia, or nothing at all. He does not speak of it. Perhaps enough has been said on it for one night.
     Agapios slowly rises again, this time his hand in yours, and he gently guides you upward. He says nothing still as he walks with you from the platform to a grand chamber hewn into the sapphire stone. The chamber is enormous, with heated streams and cascades tamed into pools. The floor is jeweled and dotted with cushions and bedding of every fabulous sort. It like a huge chamber of bedrooms, different configurations, each one more outlandishly opulent than the next.
     He leads you to one not far from the platform, surrounded by small waterfall features that fill and circulate the water in a nearby pool deep enough for him to comfortably swim in. The bedding is a mixture of blues and bronzes, many pillows to rest upon, and what appeared to be nothing but overstuffed and highly decorative duvets is actually a mattress.
     Standing there, he begins to undo your shirt, his gaze fixed on yours and on your face. He tends you with each unfastening of a tie and button, until the fabric falls loose and free. "Lie on your stomach," Agapios murmurs to you, gesturing to the bedding.

     He agrees silently to the notion of going somewhere else. Suddenly, the cliff edge seems all too close; suddenly, the heights from which he can see the open sea are too forbidding. Tiernan rises as if half-asleep, as if suddenly worn through, thin as tissue paper. "I will be fine," he says stolidly. Stoic to the end. "You need not go to any trouble on my behalf, really."
     But despite the words, he allows you to lead him, his face still solemn and pale as an owl's. The ink black of his hair strikes a contrast, the blue of his eyes shadowed and withdrawn.
     It is the change in surroundings which slowly stirs him out of his shell once again, the blue stone, the constant water, the cushions - the sheer saturation of luxury which is so in stark contrast to what he allows for himself. "This is enormous," Tiernan remarks quietly. His head tips back so he can look around, eyes suddenly coming forward again as you begin to undress him. And that brings colour back to his face. "...All right," he says slowly, moving cautiously to the bed, crescent-spotted flesh prickling at the changes in temperature. He sinks with one knee onto the duvets, head bowed and then tilting up to look at you.
     "You are highly regarded here, aren't you."

     "I hope I am of some use to those around me. I have worked hard." He pauses a moment. "I have held a position of high regard in our army. My father, being Priest, is a man who commands a great deal of respect. I am not royal by any means," he says. Not like your other lover. "The members of council have their own coves."
     He joins you on the bed, straddling over the small of your back. Reaching over, he takes a small glass bowl with a lid -- highly stylized and of a cobalt blue glass. In it is a cream. It smells like honey and almonds. Agapios rubs the cream between his hands until it emulsifies.
     "I, too, have my humility," he teases both himself and you. The sweet scent surrounds you. "Not much, but some," he softly laughs. "I will be commanding our armies beneath your king. Our king," he corrects himself. "At least, that is what is being discussed by our council and his. It depends on the treaty that is being negotiated."
     His hands come to your shoulders and the nape of your neck. Heated, they spread the warming liquid against and into your skin. Moving from the center of your spine outward, he smoothes his fingers and the emulsified cream against your shoulders and shoulder-blades.
     "I do not know what my future holds either. I am an accomplished swimmer, an excellent tactician and commander. I hope to be able to use my skills for Oannes." Agapios bends his head, watching his fingers work as he moves to the center of your back. His fingers are the true sirens. They beckon your flesh to loosen -- except for where they beckon it to swell.
     "You know it is no trouble," he smiles to you, his voice low. "I love to serve you. These rituals of the flesh... are important to me." Scooting back, sitting on your thighs, his hands work at the muscles of your lower back, spreading the honey-almond oil into your skin. It remains warm where he has touched you, and fragrant.

     He listens to you, sinking fully onto the bed on his stomach. He is barefoot and now, bare of chest as well. Will he have any clothes left by the time he leaves? "You have never tried for a position on the Council," Tiernan guesses shrewdly, turning his head to look back at you. "But you are already a commander, a general. You have many depths, Agapios."
     And, deus forgive me, it muddies my thinking even further...
     "I don't want to be a hindrance to your work for Oannes. It is very beautiful here." His voice is a little muffled, now, as he sinks with a groan into the duvets piled up. Your hands find knots, and seem to loosen them magically. It is hard for him to resist. He does not want to resist. In that, you have done miracles.
     "I feel as if I am seeing only the tip of this place. The tip of its eyelashes, as it were - that the reality of it is still hidden from me, because I don't have the right sort of eyes to see it properly. Not as if I belong here - just, not rejected by it, either. I am putting it very badly." He is quiet for a moment. "...What do you want for the future, Agapios? You have dreams, don't you? You have ... had dreams, haven't you. Glimpses, of the future."

     "In some respects, it is not a personal choice, what one shall do. When one lives in a society such as mine, there is a kind of... group thought, or approach. I serve, because it is expected of me to contribute. Those who were born with more status or prestige within the society bear the responsibility for serving more, not less. But as to how it will take shape, I leave that to the politicians. I suspect because of the arrival of the High King, I shall be stationed on one of the islands. It is why I went early, to discover more about him and about my potential future home. I suspect that is what shall unfold. I do not worry about it in any case."
     He smiles as you speak of Oannes. "Oannes welcomes you," he softly notes. "It is not hidden from you, but it will take more than three days to know it. You will have to return again sometime with me... and see it, experience it more fully." It is an invitation he hopes you accept. "You are not a hinderance, Tiernan. Nor any sort of distraction. As of yet, with orders not yet fully established, I am on a kind of... exploratory break of my own you might say. Our paths crossed at a most opportune time, don't you think?"
     Lifting off of you, Agapios pats your hip. "Remove your trousers and roll over," he murmurs. "I need to do your front." He says it easily, simply, as if such words could never be misconstrued. "You will be relaxed from head to toe. I shall get them too." He takes more of the cream onto his hands and begins rubbing them together again, creating heat and emulsifying the cream into an oil.
     "I do not tend to dream of the future, truthfully. I certainly am no oracle as my father. The office of Priest is something I could never do. But I do think that I should like to be on those islands, or nearby. To be a part of something greater than myself. To contribute to something other than commanding mer-men and sea-horses. What it shall be... I do not yet know really. I am content to let the universe unfold for me, to reveal the current I should be swimming in. Right now, the currents are leading me to and with you. I shall follow them. I feel it is what I need to be doing... helping you. I cannot explain it well. I am not usually this serious," he teases himself again.

     "I grew up in a more fractious society than this," Tiernan comments slowly. "Alliances were always only temporary; things changed fluidly, but violently. Today's ally would be tomorrow's enemy. I suppose it is why I am so bad at working with others; I withdrew from it all, rather than open myself to their damage."
     You command him, and he responds to it unconsciously, without even a real awareness of doing so, rolling onto his back and lifting his hips to push at his trousers. "I like it here. But - I feel awkward. Clumsy. As if I might or might not break something by being here, but very much the farmboy at the nobleman's table."
     The trousers are rolled to below his hips, and he lets himself sink back to the bedding. "My influence," Tiernan murmurs to you. "I make you more serious, by asking such questions, yes? - Tell me, what do you think of Iowerth?" Suddenly, all of his attention is on you. He really wants to know.

     "I will blame you for it, certainly," Agapios says quietly and in that I'm Not A Real Valet tone of voice. He grins as you roll over and dispense with the trousers as asked. When you are comfortable, he returns to his straddle, the gauzy blue fabric layering against your groin as his heated hands move to your neck and shoulders. "Everything you feel or think is your own perception. You are not half so gangly, and I am no nobleman. We do not have such layers here. In fact, I am something of a failure because I'm not an Oracle as I should have been. I see that failure as an opportunity to use the skills I was born with rather than trying to force myself into a no-win situation. It's no good trying to tell someone's future fortune if you do not have future-thinking."
     You ask you question, and he is quiet for a time, giving it due thought. His expression is bland, it is not troubled in the slightest by your inquiry. "I think the High King is quite intelligent. He has tremendous vision. I am looking forward to working with him in a different capacity. He is generous. He humored my desire to serve." Even as it brought me to you. "And I am glad he did. I am sure I would have met you eventually out there on the water somewhere. But I am glad it brought me the opportunity to meet you."
     Aquamarine eyes find you as his fingers knead and smooth their way across your chest. "And what do you make of the High King?" Agapios wonders.
     In some strange way, it is almost as if the two of you are testing where your interests lie, and whether they could lie in one another. He looks to you, his expression open, interested and curious, as his hands begin to work their way down one arm... and up... and then down the other. He pulls on each finger and rubs your palms and wrists.

     His breath hisses out as you sink against him again, as the blue gauze slides against sensitive skin. "You could never be a failure. Failures do not carry on doing." Tiernan lifts a hand to his eyes, rubbing them, shielding them with his palm and fingers. "But from what you say, you are still very young, if your people live hundreds or thousands of years."
     He rubs his hand over his eyes as you answer him, as you ask your question in return. It's an interesting question. It is one he is unsure of how to answer.
     "I don't know," Tiernan says slowly. "I know he is the High King. But ... he has been that for so short a time, and I've known him since I was barely seventeen. When I met him, I was dazzled. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with him - to get to know him. It felt ... important. Almost urgent. And now? Now I wonder if I ever really got to know him."
     "Which isn't fair," he cuts across his own words, drawing his hand away from his eyes with an exhale, his other hand in your grasp. "He has tried to give me anything he ever thought I might want. I don't know. I just don't know what happened." And he grieves; it is in his eyes, even as his voice goes quiet and his expression stoic. He doesn't know what happened, or what is to blame. There are such strong emotions there; and it hurts him, like knives at his insides. But he holds the feeling inwards, unconsciously tensing in the effort. Slightly, he smiles, the effort visible. "It's a poor answer to your question. I'm sorry."

     "It is not a poor answer, if it is an honest one," Agapios counters. "You have complex feelings. You have known him a long time. I can imagine his ascension to the position has been a source of strain. That would be the only natural occurrence." The warmed liquid moves against your hands as he massages palm and fingers and then to the other arm.
     "Life happens, things change. No one can predict them. And sometimes, it isn't anyone's fault. Good people part ways too. It sounds as if you are at a cross-roads." Scooting back slightly, Agapios trails his hands down the center of your body and rubs circles against your sides. "But even if you are parted now, it doesn't mean you will be parted forever."
     Likewise, just because two people love one another does not mean the relationship will work or last...
     Agapios moves again, allowing his hands to massage a moment at your groin before moving to your legs. He turns, facing away from you as he covers your hips in another straddle. You are gifted with the view of him from behind, his strong, lean back, his broad swimmer's shoulders as his hands work the muscles of your thighs and calves.
     "And what do you think of the King's former valet?" he muses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you behind a veil of blue hair. "That is not a fair question, but it is a good one."

     "It is the only answer I have." Tiernan smiles slightly, though without real hope to it. "Do I love him? Yes. Do I trust him? Yes, again. Would I keep his secrets? Until the grave takes me. But his position and mine have always been at cross-purposes. I don't think he even knows how much whispering and more than whispering has gone on, in the years it's been."
     He shivers as your hands move against his skin, and slowly, he sinks. The tension cannot be maintained. He looks on the verge of adding detail, but then visibly swerves away from it, the stoic expression settling in again. He would not wish to be taken as a complainer.
     Instead, he looks at you, with your words of hope, strangling a soft groan as your hand moves across his groin. It isn't fair, he almost says aloud - but he does not. One hand reaches out to brush along your back.
     "I think that you are beautiful," Tiernan says simply. "At times I've worried you might be too beautiful; I am not accustomed to as much light as you usually shine. It hurts my eyes, sometimes; I have lived my entire life with darkness of one sort or another. Your light makes me nervous, sometimes. It is ... a relief, to learn that you know something of war. Which is a terrible thing for me to say."
     He draws in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. "What can I say? You are clearly intelligent. You are talented. You are physically gifted," involuntarily, his gaze drifts along your body, "and you are generous, as a lover and otherwise. Anyone would be lucky to know you."
     But. He stoppers his mouth at that, striving for a graceful finish. His fingers drag against your skin again, then slowly pull away to fall to the bed.

     "Love," he says the word, and it is not followed by anything else for a few moments. His hands move with the slowness of thought (or of precision), from your back to your thighs. Agapios turns his attention to your legs, your feet. "It is the most peculiar of emotions. It makes those who feel it do such strange things. To themselves. To one another. Like a great coral reef, the longer it lives, the more complex it becomes."
     He bends your leg at the knee, his fingers strongly massaging your calf. The emulsified cream has become a heated liquid, like the waters of a heated pool, only his touch penetrates rather than slides along the surface of your skin as water would. Your feet are even more strongly rubbed, his thumbs finding pressure points and pressing into them until your body reacts by melting. Mostly melting.
     "I am a different creature than you. I have had different experiences. Some good, some bad, some superficial, others deep. I have known terrible things," he whispers. "And I have known beautiful things. I choose now to live with beautiful things, with pleasure in my life, and with love for those around me. It is so much more enjoyable."
     Gentle now his fingers move, his knuckles rolling along the center of the sole of your left food. His thumb presses strongly again, and his oiled fingers surround each toe and lightly tug. "I am glad you enjoy me, even though I make you nervous," Agapios smiles as he looks to you past his veil of blue hair. "I enjoy you, Tiernan. You are very passionate, very emotional. I have liked being your lover these last few weeks. I like giving myself to you."
     Gently lowering your left leg, Agapios begins to work upon your right, his hands sliding, pressing from the center of your thigh to your calf. He lifts your right leg, bending it slowly, gently at the knee. "I want to give myself to you again. I like to watch you as you take your pleasure with me. It is... like having a double serving of you." His mouth curls upward, his thumb firmly working a pressure point on the sole of your right foot. "I get to feel you. I get to watch you enjoying yourself, losing yourself. You are magnificent when you are not thinking." Aquamarine sparkles, splashing in a wink as his oiled fingers slide between your toes.

     To the topic of love, Tiernan is silent. He does not know what to say to it, about it; he has always denied being any kind of poet, of knowing anything, truly, about love. Now is no different. His chest slows in its breathing as your fingers make their way along the map of points, finding nerves and muscles and making such light work of them.
     "I am anything but beautiful," Tiernan says aloud. He hisses slowly as you press in upon the sole of his foot, drawing himself up a little on one elbow. "Nor am I magnificent." That brings colour back into his face; he is less flustered than embarrassed, and of course, denying any compliment as fast as it comes. "What terrible thing has happened to you, though? If you would share it with me - I mean, I do want to know."
     Knowledge, of you or of anything else, he finds more important than anything else. There is not a lack of compassion in his attention on you - but interest and concern are there. His cock twitches slightly - and stoically, resolutely he tries to ignore it. He is not immune to the images you paint; merely pretending.

     "I have seen a lot of death," Agapios stoically replies, and through the zen-like smoothness of his face you can see a depth to those aquamarine seas. "Not merely while fighting over territory, pointless as that exercise is, but suffering. And I myself have suffered. I have lost family, friends. There are ... many dark things that live in the sea's deepest abyss. The ocean, too, has its wilderness. But my suffering is not so special. I am not the only one who has lived who has cried."
     Gently again, he lowers your right legs. His hands guide your thighs apart, widely splaying as he begins to work the inside of those muscles. "I have had both male and female lovers," he notes. "I have lost several to the whims and wherefores of the ocean. Two to battles that I myself commanded," he softly tells you. He cares about you enough to utter what you might imagine he would not speak on. He gives himself to you. "But my heart is not closed to love, just because I have lost love. My heart is open to receive those who ...swim within it."
     His hands leave you to take more of the almond and honey cream. Rubbing his hands slowly together, he begins to emulsify it -- but not as quickly as before. "Roll over," Agapios gently guides you, a verbal touch. "It does not make me fearful. It makes me more brave. Their lives have fortified me. Their love has made me stronger. But I had to swim through blood and weeds, viscera and polluted seas to understand this. I will say... I join you on your journey, Tiernan, because I have made it once myself. I know what it is to suffer and to search for meaning. You want to know who you are... you wish to know why what happened to you happened. A reason, an understanding. Don't give up," his eyes grow slightly most, but he does not fight it. It is not his way. "I will swim with you. Even in a desert," Agapios smiles. It is as gentle as his touch, as graceful as his voice.
     He waits for you to roll over onto your back, his hands slowly moving forward and back, palms sliding together.

     He listens to you with an attunement, an understanding of what you say. Horror can be found anywhere, without needing to look very hard; it is only that most people have blinded themselves to it, save through personal loss.
     "You are the most open person I have ever met," Tiernan answers you. Slowly, grudgingly he pulls himself up from the bed, rolling first onto a hip, then fully over, like a timber being felled. "I do not want to add to your regrets, to your woes. Even if you have survived such before, it does not make me keen to add to those. But ... I am grateful nonetheless. This - I can tell, it is going to be hard for me."
     There will be hard to accept truths; of that he is sure. Hard to deal with. There may be physical threats - those who want to kill him, for perceived betrayals or for whatever other reasons. He does not know what is waiting. But he is ignoring dread.
     "I do not think there are any deserts," Tiernan answers you seriously. "There are bodies of water, but land-locked; rivers and lakes, primarily. And there are mountains. It is a long way from here."

     "I would rather be open and suffer the consequences, than to be closed to love, and to possibility. Those are consequences... I do not think I could bear. And so... sometimes... yes... the heart will be wounded. But the heart will recover. It always does. It is the strongest muscle in the body of any creature." He smiles to you as you roll over. It is a smile that conveys that it will, indeed, be hard for you. But not in the way that you meant.
     Sitting on your legs, Agapios begins kneading the tender muscles of your hips, the hip flexers and the innermost parts of your thighs. "You are not adding to them, Tiernan," he quietly insists. "I am. I go of my own will, my own choosing, my heart open to the consequences. If it results in my death, I followed my heart. I die with valor. If you should gain your knowledge and that knowledge can ultimately lead you to what you wish, to love, to joy, then anything I have to give, be it a hand," he smiles, his hands cupping you, "... or my heart, then... I will be happy. Do not accept guilt or responsibility that is not yours. You put too much on your shoulders. It is no wonder they are like cement blocks."

Posted by rowan at January 31, 2007 06:43 PM