[open] lookin' for the love getaway.

[babbylon]

Who: Gilgamesh and everyone visiting Heaven's Feel!
When: 5/1—5/8
Where: Caissa, Heaven's Feel storefront
What: The grand opening of Heaven's Feel, Caissa's premier matchmaking service, has arrived! Stop by for food, drinks, and some friendly fun with your fellow Heroes! ...or maybe even pick up a date, who knows.
Rating: General audiences, except for Gil's threads because he was pretty much making out with everyone. Tread carefully.

Heaven's Feel



[Maybe you've heard, or maybe you haven't, but there's a new business in town. It's plastered everywhere, posted on the side of every building and shouted from the end of every street corner in Caissa. Heaven's Feel, Heaven's Feel, come fly with the angels at Heaven's Feel! Really, who writes something so cheesy? The owner must be a real piece of work, you think, yet there's something enticing about the sound of it...

If you do decide to stop by within the first week of May, you'll find a massive celebration awaiting you: the celebration of opening day! Eager workers wave down anyone who gets close, with offers of wine tasting, sweet treats, and even speed dating. The store's interior bustles with activity as visitors fill out cute little survey cards in hopes of a hook-up. The owner in question can be found mingling in the crowd, bartending, and drawing charcoal caricatures of couples for a nominal fee.

Overall, the atmosphere is one of excitement. Hop right in! There's plenty of room for lounging on the cushy furniture, and plenty of time to find your own hottie.

...or perfectly platonic friend. Look, we're not judging or anything.]

Comments

[hymnals]

[ It was two glasses of rosé. He's easily lead in this somewhat inebriated state, though, and doesn't resist the journey to the couch. Nor does he pull back when they've sat down together, when Gil is cuddled up against him and holding his hand. Not immediately, anyway.

He looks out over the robust gathering of people, all talking and eating, all ostensibly having a good time. ]

I'm glad. We're at war. There are more important things to worry about, but people ... they need more than worries if they're going to survive. If I can help ease their suffering in any way, then I'm grateful ...

[ He trails off. The wine has loosened his thoughts, made them permeable; they collide and fragment as he tries to catch hold of them, to go on. But no: something else comes to the fore, now. He glances down at Gil's hand in his, at the warm press of their bodies.

He murmurs. ]

I've allowed you to become entirely too forward with me.

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh misinterprets Adra's confession and pulls himself back at once. Certainly, taking advantage of a drunken state was not at all beneath Gilgamesh, but Adra was in a very special category. He had been the individual chiefly responsible for teaching the great tyrant something like boundaries and manners, and so it is his very last wish to cause discomfort. He looks him over concernedly.]

Is it undesired?

[It's something of a mixed question. He's a bit worried, but by the same token he's unlikely to stop pursuing Adra outright. Once he had his sights set on a target, he tended to chase until it was his. But maybe this called for a slight retooling of strategy.]

[hymnals]

[ Adra folds his hands in his lap, his eyebrows furrowing. Undesired. No, that's not quite the problem. He still feels a frisson of fear whenever someone touches him; he's instinctively never sure when kindness will turn to violence. But that primal, animal reaction is mostly quelled when it comes to Gilgamesh, something Adra's recently recognized. Something he considers possibly dangerous, although not for reasons pertaining to Gil himself. ]

--it's not appropriate.

[ It seems like a half-thought, because it is. He rubs his temples with one hand, flush with warmth from the wine, his throat dry. He goes on, haltingly. ]

I need to--show more restraint. I can't let myself lose sight of ...

[ He sighs. ]

Of what's important.

[babbylon]

[And with that, Gilgamesh immediately understand what's really going on here. What's really bothering him.]

Of your duties. Your station. Your purpose.

[Gilgamesh speaks as if from firsthand experience... mostly because it is, because he'd wrestled with the same questions himself over and over, whenever he got too close to someone or exposed a little too much of the truth. Gilgamesh folds his back upon his lap as his expression settles into sternness.]

I, too, have been ripped from my rightful place. I ask myself, "Have I strayed? Have I wandered too far? Have I forgotten what it is to act in the capacity of the great King, Gilgamesh?" I wake up each day and wonder if I betray my own reason for being.

[He shakes his head, however, and looks back at Adra with his usual intensity.]

But then I remember... I must not live in the past, or in the future, but in the present. And in the present, I live in this world, and no other. So I must serve this world. I must find another path, one that suits me. And I must not anguish over what I cannot change. I must not weep for has been lost.

[One of his hands unfolds. Towards Adra. But the choice to take it will be his.]

I must cheer, for what I have gained, and what I yet stand to gain. I must celebrate, that an even grander adventure and grander people await me each day.

[hymnals]

[ Adra's eyes, burning green as ever, flick from Gilgamesh's face to his open hand. There's true conviction in what Gil says, and even though an unbidden, unformed agitation about kings and greatness floats to the top of his mental soup, he discards it.

He balls his own hands into fists. ]

Yes. I must serve this world. I agree.

[ He worries for Azeroth--for his people, and for his brother, and certainly these concerns are part of what he must keep in front of him. ]

A battle waits for me when I leave this place. But I don't mean to neglect the battle here, either. I have to stay focused. Disciplined.

[ He stares at Gilgamesh's hand, obviously wanting to take it. His head aches, and not just from a few glasses of wine.

In the end, he touches the tip of his forefinger to Gil's palm. ]

I can't be distracted.

[babbylon]

No.

[Gilgamesh's rebuttal proves damningly simple. Often, he was a man of many words, but sometimes he needed only a few.]

But you can remember to live.

[hymnals]

[ He laughs weakly, sighing. ]

I am living.

[ He gestures to the crowd, gladly munching away on his many, many pastries. ]

Look at all the products of my life.

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh's features turn crafty. Moment™ officially over.]

Oh? I may have forgotten what such a life tastes like... perhaps you might remind me?

[hymnals]

[ Buddy ... ]

Is that a suggestive way of asking for a cupcake?

[babbylon]

It is a suggestive way of asking you to feed me a cupcake.

[Hey, it's the little details that count.]

[hymnals]

How unfortunate that I don't have one handy.

[ He purses his lips, shaking his head a little. This was what unseated him about Gil: he was by turns serious, seemingly utterly sincere, and by turns--whatever was happening now. Flirtatious; playful. Looking for a notch on his belt. ]

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh gestures for one of his staff, completely oblivious to Adra's discomfort... and completely uncaring, besides, as he'd never apologize for simply being himself. The man lowers his tray full of cakes and pastries, and Gilgamesh taps a finger against his lips, pretending to think.]

And yet now, there's so many. How to choose...?

[One could not fault Gilgamesh for this much: he was earnestly passionate in nearly all that he did.]

[hymnals]

[ Relentless. Adra stares balefully at the colorful assortment, nearly all made by his own hand. Betrayed by his creations.

He nods at the waiter, attempting to deflect. ]

You've sure got them trained, haven't you?

[ He saw that network post earlier, too ... ]

[babbylon]

[Oh... uh... well...]

They are all enjoying reasonable wages and exceptionally fair treatment?

[He knows your buttons, Adra. He knows the buttons of social justice, and how swiftly to press them.]

[hymnals]

[ Slamming that hand right down. ]

I wouldn't have stayed if the case was otherwise.

[ He snatches a dark chocolate truffle cupcake from the tray, probably one of the most decadent styles he prepared for this event. He pops the truffle off of the frosting, cracks the hard shell open with a nail, and takes a slow, lingering bite, running his tongue over the truffle's creamy filling.

How's that for living. ]

[babbylon]

[Gods be damned, this elf was a handful. Then again, Adra probably saw him the same way, so he accepts the... not quite praise, not quite condemnation... with a nod and reaches for a vanilla cupcake himself. And fine, if Adra thought him some big stuffy King incapable of humility, maybe he'd turn the tables for once.

He eats his own treat ever so demurely. Politely, bite by bite. Though in reality it's still seduction, just wearing a slightly different face. What experts call the long con.]

[hymnals]

[ The mix of sweet wine and rich, sharp chocolate in his mouth--it's almost too much. A little time has passed, and he feels himself steadying, but he's still altogether much too loose-limbed and warm, much too unsure of his equilibrium.

In all things.

He glances at Gil as he licks frosting (silky, buttercream) off of his lips. ]

Enjoying yourself?

[babbylon]

[Is he doing this on purpose?!

Now, Gilgamesh was something of a sore loser. He did not weather defeat well, for any reason, and if he so much as sensed it on the horizon he'd huff and puff and pout until the other person just wishes they'd lost anyway for the sake of avoiding such a terrible mood.

Gilgamesh has not lost at anything yet, but he feels as though he has watching Adra eat. He should at least invite me over, Gilgamesh grouses, but then he decides Adra has forfeited any privileges to personal space due to the catty way he's sitting there with his stupid cupcake and thus takes it upon himself to close the gap between them and...

Lick the rest of the frosting off his face.

He still has some his own cupcake left, too, so he presses a bite against Adra's lips and essentially dares him to accept it. Gilgamesh was a sore loser and Gilgamesh also tended to make games where there otherwise were none, and he's determined to win this one.]

Maybe.

[He says, as if completely oblivious to fact that he's now splayed all over his lap.]

[hymnals]

[ Adra's eyes widen, because this response is much more than he bargained for. He inhales sharply at the swift, sudden aggression, at the sudden, wet warmth of Gil's tongue across his lips. He grabs the back of the couch with his free hand, steadying himself, and then Gilgamesh presses the bite of cake against Adra's mouth.

It's so quick and forceful that Adra reacts automatically, lips parting, gasping a little (Light.). His already flushed cheeks burn. ]

D--damn it.

[ He grabs Gil by the chin, pushing him back, holding him in place. Panting a little. ]

Get hold of yourself.

[ Who is he even talking to? ]

[babbylon]

[Too late. Much too late. Adra cannot hold him; a wild beast has appeared to take his place.]

Should I not say the same to you?

[And so Gilgamesh chases after the bite that just disappeared into Adra's mouth with a deep, deep kiss. The kiss that he's been wanting to give him all this time; the kiss that's slower and sensual compared to the shock of Capablanca; the kiss that defines him as Gilgamesh, enthused, and energetic, and endlessly ambitious.

It won't last forever. It will just feel like it does, because no one gets away with teasing Gilgamesh—intentionally or not. He'll remember this, the taste of a King. The flavor of his desire.]

[hymnals]

[ No--oh, no--Adra's nails dig into the couch cushions, and his entire body tenses as Gilgamesh kisses him, as he finds that it's not the quick insult of Capablanca but something much more deliberate.

His slips his free hand into Gil's hair, tangling blond locks around his fingers, pressing desperately against the other man's scalp. As the kiss deepens, Adra half-whimpers, half-moans into Gil's mouth, warm and sweet, spiced with the wine and the dark, bitter chocolate.

He doesn't want this--he can't want this. He squeezes his eyes shut, his shoulders shaking. ]

cw: disturbing thoughts, sexuality

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh may have considered Adra special, but that did not make him immune from the worst of his tendencies. He smells terror and it is strong, like a beacon to him. It draws him in, entices him. As a man of his time, Gilgamesh truly saw little wrong with exhibitionism, or public displays of sexuality. He would have no qualms simply taking the man as he is now, as while he hears the song of surrender he recognizes subtleties to it that sound more like keep going than keep away from me. Every part of him urges him to continue.

But one part of him urges him to stop, and he heeds it. He withdraws from Adra, albeit at a gradual pace, so that he might feel warm breath along his neck and that he might see the desire vibrant in the man's eyes. He lifts his body, ever so slightly, so if that Adra wished to free himself, he could. The snake unraveling its coils.

Gilgamesh asks of him simply thus, in a neutral sort of tone:]

Are you going to run?

[In which, his answer would be obvious. If you run, I will chase.]

[hymnals]

[ Adra's heart thrums wildly in his chest; he feels it in the back of his throat, sitting heavy, making it hard to swallow or speak. Undeniably, he had felt something from the kiss, something pleasurable and alluring and absolutely, to his mind, not for him.

Fear of the touch itself, fear of its implications, fear of falling--they're all mixed in with the lingering heat in his mouth, on his lips. No, he can't press this. Can't progress this. He cannot slip.

So he runs both hands through his own hair, breathes slowly, and disentangles himself.

Stiffly, formally, he finally talks. His veins still swim with the last of the wine, but he feels stone cold sober in this moment. ]

Well, this was lovely, but it's time for me to go.

[ He's not running.

(he's definitely running)

He just has to get the hell out of there. ]

Goodnight, Gilgamesh.

[ He rubs the side of his face. He steps away. ]