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Travelling nomads that the Children of Mnesmonye were, they often found themselves in between provinces or cities to stay in, which meant the performers had to be well equipped for staying and roughing it out - which luckily, they were. Their tents and materials may not be of the highest quality, but Zephyrus's fondest memories were usually sitting around a campfire built by one of them, sharing a huge pot of stew as they exchanged stories, bawdy songs and some games, before everyone retired to their own tent.
Of course, usually no one built a tent within five feet of the one Basilides and Zephyrus shared. The two lovers, while no longer 'new' persay, were not exactly... considerate in the throes of their passion. Which meant that most of them had already learnt their lesson by being too close.
Not that Zephyrus minded. While he always started off wanting to be considerate of their troupe members, being able to have Basilides all to himself was always something that drove him over the edge. There was no denying that the young acrobat was posessive over his lover, especially when the producer's job involved sharing him with so many others. Could you really blame the intensity that went into their lovemaking when they could?
By the time Zephyrus fell on Bas's chest, his back sweaty and his breath heavy, it was well in the night as the young boy rolled to Basilides's side, and curled against the body of the man, enjoying the heat that radiated from him. "Where are we headed to next anyway, Bas?" the soft voice murmured as his fingers drew nonsensical patterns against his lover's chest, finally realizing he never asked where they were headed once Bas had declared the Children pack up for the day.
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Travelling nomads that the Children of Mnesmonye were, they often found themselves in between provinces or cities to stay in, which meant the performers had to be well equipped for staying and roughing it out - which luckily, they were. Their tents and materials may not be of the highest quality, but Zephyrus's fondest memories were usually sitting around a campfire built by one of them, sharing a huge pot of stew as they exchanged stories, bawdy songs and some games, before everyone retired to their own tent.
Of course, usually no one built a tent within five feet of the one Basilides and Zephyrus shared. The two lovers, while no longer 'new' persay, were not exactly... considerate in the throes of their passion. Which meant that most of them had already learnt their lesson by being too close.
Not that Zephyrus minded. While he always started off wanting to be considerate of their troupe members, being able to have Basilides all to himself was always something that drove him over the edge. There was no denying that the young acrobat was posessive over his lover, especially when the producer's job involved sharing him with so many others. Could you really blame the intensity that went into their lovemaking when they could?
By the time Zephyrus fell on Bas's chest, his back sweaty and his breath heavy, it was well in the night as the young boy rolled to Basilides's side, and curled against the body of the man, enjoying the heat that radiated from him. "Where are we headed to next anyway, Bas?" the soft voice murmured as his fingers drew nonsensical patterns against his lover's chest, finally realizing he never asked where they were headed once Bas had declared the Children pack up for the day.
Travelling nomads that the Children of Mnesmonye were, they often found themselves in between provinces or cities to stay in, which meant the performers had to be well equipped for staying and roughing it out - which luckily, they were. Their tents and materials may not be of the highest quality, but Zephyrus's fondest memories were usually sitting around a campfire built by one of them, sharing a huge pot of stew as they exchanged stories, bawdy songs and some games, before everyone retired to their own tent.
Of course, usually no one built a tent within five feet of the one Basilides and Zephyrus shared. The two lovers, while no longer 'new' persay, were not exactly... considerate in the throes of their passion. Which meant that most of them had already learnt their lesson by being too close.
Not that Zephyrus minded. While he always started off wanting to be considerate of their troupe members, being able to have Basilides all to himself was always something that drove him over the edge. There was no denying that the young acrobat was posessive over his lover, especially when the producer's job involved sharing him with so many others. Could you really blame the intensity that went into their lovemaking when they could?
By the time Zephyrus fell on Bas's chest, his back sweaty and his breath heavy, it was well in the night as the young boy rolled to Basilides's side, and curled against the body of the man, enjoying the heat that radiated from him. "Where are we headed to next anyway, Bas?" the soft voice murmured as his fingers drew nonsensical patterns against his lover's chest, finally realizing he never asked where they were headed once Bas had declared the Children pack up for the day.
A life on the road was not for everyone in the realm, but Basilides felt as though it suited him just fine. Yes, he much preferred the extended stays in proper boarding houses with soft beds and real walls, but there was a sort of rugged freedom that came with camping out beneath the open sky. With the troupe growing in size every year for the past seven, what was once a half-dozen carts and a small collection of players had become a veritable caravan of musicians, acrobats, players, dancers, and more. They had become a large, extended family - people of the world, not necessarily the kingdom of their birth - forever roaming.
Of all the people who had come into his life through this venture, minus his longtime friendship in Phineus, Zephyrus captured his mind the most. There was nothing quite like watching the man vault and contort in the strangest of ways, always garnering a gasp and a squeal from a passing child created living proof that the brooding, smoke-circled producer was in fact still capable of smiling.
There was no doubt in his mind that he loved the man, not only for the way the young man made Bas smile, but also in the way their bodies seemed to tangle perfectly together in passion and at rest.
With his head still tilted back and his eyes closed as he felt the residual ebb of pleasure ripple with warmth beneath his skin as his lover lay panting across his chest then rolling to his side. His mind seemed cleared of all thought, as he lungs tried to measure out a more appropriate rhythm to replace his breathlessness, taking in a deep breath that occasionally divulged into a contented groan, much like after a long morning stretch.
A soft hum of pleasure rumbled his in throat as he felt his lover's fingertips on his chest. His own arm lay pinned beneath his lover's neck, but curled to allow his own fingers to reciprocate by stroking and twirling Zeph's curls as he replied.
"Corinth for a week or so," he said, his voice still buttery smooth and dreamy as he savored the sensations on his skin, "Then, to Magnestis and Aetaea, actually." He opened his eyes and looked over to grin at his lover, knowing that was Zephyrus' hometown. He measured his lover's expression for a short moment, hoping the joy of a trip to his hometown would soften the coming blow.
"Our stint in Magnestis should last two or so weeks, long enough for me to go to Taengea and get affairs in order for the Festival of Dionysus later this year. You'll hardly know I'm gone." He pressed a tender kiss to his lover's temple, trying to assuage the oncoming concern by very quickly following up with a random query, with a pesky grin on his lips as he prodded his lover's side with his free hand.
"If you could pick anywhere in the world to go, where would you have us go?"
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A life on the road was not for everyone in the realm, but Basilides felt as though it suited him just fine. Yes, he much preferred the extended stays in proper boarding houses with soft beds and real walls, but there was a sort of rugged freedom that came with camping out beneath the open sky. With the troupe growing in size every year for the past seven, what was once a half-dozen carts and a small collection of players had become a veritable caravan of musicians, acrobats, players, dancers, and more. They had become a large, extended family - people of the world, not necessarily the kingdom of their birth - forever roaming.
Of all the people who had come into his life through this venture, minus his longtime friendship in Phineus, Zephyrus captured his mind the most. There was nothing quite like watching the man vault and contort in the strangest of ways, always garnering a gasp and a squeal from a passing child created living proof that the brooding, smoke-circled producer was in fact still capable of smiling.
There was no doubt in his mind that he loved the man, not only for the way the young man made Bas smile, but also in the way their bodies seemed to tangle perfectly together in passion and at rest.
With his head still tilted back and his eyes closed as he felt the residual ebb of pleasure ripple with warmth beneath his skin as his lover lay panting across his chest then rolling to his side. His mind seemed cleared of all thought, as he lungs tried to measure out a more appropriate rhythm to replace his breathlessness, taking in a deep breath that occasionally divulged into a contented groan, much like after a long morning stretch.
A soft hum of pleasure rumbled his in throat as he felt his lover's fingertips on his chest. His own arm lay pinned beneath his lover's neck, but curled to allow his own fingers to reciprocate by stroking and twirling Zeph's curls as he replied.
"Corinth for a week or so," he said, his voice still buttery smooth and dreamy as he savored the sensations on his skin, "Then, to Magnestis and Aetaea, actually." He opened his eyes and looked over to grin at his lover, knowing that was Zephyrus' hometown. He measured his lover's expression for a short moment, hoping the joy of a trip to his hometown would soften the coming blow.
"Our stint in Magnestis should last two or so weeks, long enough for me to go to Taengea and get affairs in order for the Festival of Dionysus later this year. You'll hardly know I'm gone." He pressed a tender kiss to his lover's temple, trying to assuage the oncoming concern by very quickly following up with a random query, with a pesky grin on his lips as he prodded his lover's side with his free hand.
"If you could pick anywhere in the world to go, where would you have us go?"
A life on the road was not for everyone in the realm, but Basilides felt as though it suited him just fine. Yes, he much preferred the extended stays in proper boarding houses with soft beds and real walls, but there was a sort of rugged freedom that came with camping out beneath the open sky. With the troupe growing in size every year for the past seven, what was once a half-dozen carts and a small collection of players had become a veritable caravan of musicians, acrobats, players, dancers, and more. They had become a large, extended family - people of the world, not necessarily the kingdom of their birth - forever roaming.
Of all the people who had come into his life through this venture, minus his longtime friendship in Phineus, Zephyrus captured his mind the most. There was nothing quite like watching the man vault and contort in the strangest of ways, always garnering a gasp and a squeal from a passing child created living proof that the brooding, smoke-circled producer was in fact still capable of smiling.
There was no doubt in his mind that he loved the man, not only for the way the young man made Bas smile, but also in the way their bodies seemed to tangle perfectly together in passion and at rest.
With his head still tilted back and his eyes closed as he felt the residual ebb of pleasure ripple with warmth beneath his skin as his lover lay panting across his chest then rolling to his side. His mind seemed cleared of all thought, as he lungs tried to measure out a more appropriate rhythm to replace his breathlessness, taking in a deep breath that occasionally divulged into a contented groan, much like after a long morning stretch.
A soft hum of pleasure rumbled his in throat as he felt his lover's fingertips on his chest. His own arm lay pinned beneath his lover's neck, but curled to allow his own fingers to reciprocate by stroking and twirling Zeph's curls as he replied.
"Corinth for a week or so," he said, his voice still buttery smooth and dreamy as he savored the sensations on his skin, "Then, to Magnestis and Aetaea, actually." He opened his eyes and looked over to grin at his lover, knowing that was Zephyrus' hometown. He measured his lover's expression for a short moment, hoping the joy of a trip to his hometown would soften the coming blow.
"Our stint in Magnestis should last two or so weeks, long enough for me to go to Taengea and get affairs in order for the Festival of Dionysus later this year. You'll hardly know I'm gone." He pressed a tender kiss to his lover's temple, trying to assuage the oncoming concern by very quickly following up with a random query, with a pesky grin on his lips as he prodded his lover's side with his free hand.
"If you could pick anywhere in the world to go, where would you have us go?"
He loved listening to Basilides talk. Something about his lover's tone and way of speech soothes Zephyrus, and perhaps that was one of the reasons why Zephyrus had so quickly fallen for the producer upon their first meeting when he had first came to Aetaea. Curling like a feline against the fingers that played with his curls, he smiled at the annoucement that they were returning to Aetaea. The young acrobat had no wish to see his father, but he did miss the old people he worked with.
"I've never been to Magnestis before. That should be interesting." he murmured. Basilides should know of how Zephyrus held a wide-eyed wonder everytime they went to some place new. He would always find a chunk of time to go and explore a new province they would visit, even if it took up some of his practice time. His mind was like a child, eager to see the world and more people.
The excitement in his face was quickly dulled when Basilides followed it by saying he would need to leave them whilst they were in Magnestis. Zephyrus had wanted to crawl up to flash the other a scowl, but settled for a miffed sound when he was mollified by a kiss to the temple. Insufficient, but he'll survive. There was no doubt that within the two weeks or so, he was likely to find some other person to sleep with in Basilides's absence anyhow, so he said nothing else.
Jumping with a loud "Hey!" when Bas prodded him, he chuckled, and then his visage turned contemplative at the other's query. "Anywhere?" he echoed, thinking for a moment's longer, before replying. "Beyond Greece. We've been to all three kingdoms. I'm curious if beyond our borders, are people different? Do they sing a different tune? Play different games?" The young one trailed off, all the possibilities of the future in front of them.
"And you?"
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He loved listening to Basilides talk. Something about his lover's tone and way of speech soothes Zephyrus, and perhaps that was one of the reasons why Zephyrus had so quickly fallen for the producer upon their first meeting when he had first came to Aetaea. Curling like a feline against the fingers that played with his curls, he smiled at the annoucement that they were returning to Aetaea. The young acrobat had no wish to see his father, but he did miss the old people he worked with.
"I've never been to Magnestis before. That should be interesting." he murmured. Basilides should know of how Zephyrus held a wide-eyed wonder everytime they went to some place new. He would always find a chunk of time to go and explore a new province they would visit, even if it took up some of his practice time. His mind was like a child, eager to see the world and more people.
The excitement in his face was quickly dulled when Basilides followed it by saying he would need to leave them whilst they were in Magnestis. Zephyrus had wanted to crawl up to flash the other a scowl, but settled for a miffed sound when he was mollified by a kiss to the temple. Insufficient, but he'll survive. There was no doubt that within the two weeks or so, he was likely to find some other person to sleep with in Basilides's absence anyhow, so he said nothing else.
Jumping with a loud "Hey!" when Bas prodded him, he chuckled, and then his visage turned contemplative at the other's query. "Anywhere?" he echoed, thinking for a moment's longer, before replying. "Beyond Greece. We've been to all three kingdoms. I'm curious if beyond our borders, are people different? Do they sing a different tune? Play different games?" The young one trailed off, all the possibilities of the future in front of them.
"And you?"
He loved listening to Basilides talk. Something about his lover's tone and way of speech soothes Zephyrus, and perhaps that was one of the reasons why Zephyrus had so quickly fallen for the producer upon their first meeting when he had first came to Aetaea. Curling like a feline against the fingers that played with his curls, he smiled at the annoucement that they were returning to Aetaea. The young acrobat had no wish to see his father, but he did miss the old people he worked with.
"I've never been to Magnestis before. That should be interesting." he murmured. Basilides should know of how Zephyrus held a wide-eyed wonder everytime they went to some place new. He would always find a chunk of time to go and explore a new province they would visit, even if it took up some of his practice time. His mind was like a child, eager to see the world and more people.
The excitement in his face was quickly dulled when Basilides followed it by saying he would need to leave them whilst they were in Magnestis. Zephyrus had wanted to crawl up to flash the other a scowl, but settled for a miffed sound when he was mollified by a kiss to the temple. Insufficient, but he'll survive. There was no doubt that within the two weeks or so, he was likely to find some other person to sleep with in Basilides's absence anyhow, so he said nothing else.
Jumping with a loud "Hey!" when Bas prodded him, he chuckled, and then his visage turned contemplative at the other's query. "Anywhere?" he echoed, thinking for a moment's longer, before replying. "Beyond Greece. We've been to all three kingdoms. I'm curious if beyond our borders, are people different? Do they sing a different tune? Play different games?" The young one trailed off, all the possibilities of the future in front of them.
"And you?"
Basilides let a low laugh escape him as his lover tried to squirm away from his grasp, eventually rolling so that his tired torso lay on top of the younger man, effectively pinning the acrobat underneath him. He let his hands meet on Zeph's torso and then rested his chin on the back of his hand, listening to his young lover's words, flicking a brow up at the thought of going beyond Greece.
Initially, his mind waylaid the idea, as he could practically hear the coins spilling from the limited coffers the troupe had to their name into the Mediterranean sea. Weeks at sea, on several ships to move them all. What if they came across a storm and suffered losses? These were the first thoughts that crossed his mind: expenses and logistics. However, his brushed them away and offered a smirk at Zeph's stream of questions.
"They speak different languages," Bas offered, amused, "Coptic in Egypt, Hebrew in Judea. And more dialects than you can number in Bedoa. I learned a bit of the first two when I was younger, working for my family. I was very young when I ventured to Egypt. My brothers have gone there and Judea many times since, though." He grinned and shifted one hand to draw small, invisible designs with his fingertips across the young man's chest.
"There is constant music and dancing in Egypt," he recalled, his eyes squinting as he looked at the tent walls, almost as if he tried to see into the past. Then, a sly smirk crooked the corner of his lip upward as he shot a sidelong glance to his lover and teasingly added, "And, for the most part, they hardly wear any clothes. And what they do wear leaves very, very little to the imagination, as it is almost all sheer."
Thinking upon it, perhaps seeing such things at a young age could be to blame for how he was and the preferences he held. It was silly to blame it on such a thing, but yet, he wondered what humor the gods could find in giving him stronger desires for the bodies of men over the fairer sex.
Still, to answer his young lover's question, he let his nose nuzzle at the man's bare torso and added, "So...I suppose I would vote Egypt."
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Basilides let a low laugh escape him as his lover tried to squirm away from his grasp, eventually rolling so that his tired torso lay on top of the younger man, effectively pinning the acrobat underneath him. He let his hands meet on Zeph's torso and then rested his chin on the back of his hand, listening to his young lover's words, flicking a brow up at the thought of going beyond Greece.
Initially, his mind waylaid the idea, as he could practically hear the coins spilling from the limited coffers the troupe had to their name into the Mediterranean sea. Weeks at sea, on several ships to move them all. What if they came across a storm and suffered losses? These were the first thoughts that crossed his mind: expenses and logistics. However, his brushed them away and offered a smirk at Zeph's stream of questions.
"They speak different languages," Bas offered, amused, "Coptic in Egypt, Hebrew in Judea. And more dialects than you can number in Bedoa. I learned a bit of the first two when I was younger, working for my family. I was very young when I ventured to Egypt. My brothers have gone there and Judea many times since, though." He grinned and shifted one hand to draw small, invisible designs with his fingertips across the young man's chest.
"There is constant music and dancing in Egypt," he recalled, his eyes squinting as he looked at the tent walls, almost as if he tried to see into the past. Then, a sly smirk crooked the corner of his lip upward as he shot a sidelong glance to his lover and teasingly added, "And, for the most part, they hardly wear any clothes. And what they do wear leaves very, very little to the imagination, as it is almost all sheer."
Thinking upon it, perhaps seeing such things at a young age could be to blame for how he was and the preferences he held. It was silly to blame it on such a thing, but yet, he wondered what humor the gods could find in giving him stronger desires for the bodies of men over the fairer sex.
Still, to answer his young lover's question, he let his nose nuzzle at the man's bare torso and added, "So...I suppose I would vote Egypt."
Basilides let a low laugh escape him as his lover tried to squirm away from his grasp, eventually rolling so that his tired torso lay on top of the younger man, effectively pinning the acrobat underneath him. He let his hands meet on Zeph's torso and then rested his chin on the back of his hand, listening to his young lover's words, flicking a brow up at the thought of going beyond Greece.
Initially, his mind waylaid the idea, as he could practically hear the coins spilling from the limited coffers the troupe had to their name into the Mediterranean sea. Weeks at sea, on several ships to move them all. What if they came across a storm and suffered losses? These were the first thoughts that crossed his mind: expenses and logistics. However, his brushed them away and offered a smirk at Zeph's stream of questions.
"They speak different languages," Bas offered, amused, "Coptic in Egypt, Hebrew in Judea. And more dialects than you can number in Bedoa. I learned a bit of the first two when I was younger, working for my family. I was very young when I ventured to Egypt. My brothers have gone there and Judea many times since, though." He grinned and shifted one hand to draw small, invisible designs with his fingertips across the young man's chest.
"There is constant music and dancing in Egypt," he recalled, his eyes squinting as he looked at the tent walls, almost as if he tried to see into the past. Then, a sly smirk crooked the corner of his lip upward as he shot a sidelong glance to his lover and teasingly added, "And, for the most part, they hardly wear any clothes. And what they do wear leaves very, very little to the imagination, as it is almost all sheer."
Thinking upon it, perhaps seeing such things at a young age could be to blame for how he was and the preferences he held. It was silly to blame it on such a thing, but yet, he wondered what humor the gods could find in giving him stronger desires for the bodies of men over the fairer sex.
Still, to answer his young lover's question, he let his nose nuzzle at the man's bare torso and added, "So...I suppose I would vote Egypt."
The young male pouted when his male lover pinned him down with his own body weight, but there was little clout behind the pout. Zephyrus enjoyed having Bas's heat pressed up against him too much to care overly much, and soon curled up against his lover's side again. He tilted his head upwards when the other began to speak, curiosity and interest sparking in the hazel depths of his eyes once Bas told of the stories that came from lands beyond the Aegean sea.
"Can you speak such words still, Bas?" he asked in curiosity, turning so he lay on his back looking up in the propped up visage of the producer of their little troupe of misfit performers.
A master with words (for it had been his words that had captured Zephyrus's interest afterall), the acrobat smiled in a distant manner when Basilides began to describe the sights he's seen in Egypt, the image painted in his mind one of color and excitement, music and celebrations everywhere. Taengea was of course, quite similar in that aspect, but the image Bas's words had given Zephyrus a feeling of was that everything in Egypt was just done in... excess. Way more then what Taengea had.
Flicking his eyes back to Bas as he voted Egypt, the young male smirked. "Because of the lack of clothes? You seem to enjoy not wearing any." he teased.
Without warning, Zeph picked his legs up so they clamped around Bas's waist, and then pushed himself up so he now sat straddling his lover's waist, and pressed his chest against the other's. "Could you speak to me in those foreign languages you've learned, love?" he murmured against the producer's earlobe, so close he could bet Bas could feel his grin.
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The young male pouted when his male lover pinned him down with his own body weight, but there was little clout behind the pout. Zephyrus enjoyed having Bas's heat pressed up against him too much to care overly much, and soon curled up against his lover's side again. He tilted his head upwards when the other began to speak, curiosity and interest sparking in the hazel depths of his eyes once Bas told of the stories that came from lands beyond the Aegean sea.
"Can you speak such words still, Bas?" he asked in curiosity, turning so he lay on his back looking up in the propped up visage of the producer of their little troupe of misfit performers.
A master with words (for it had been his words that had captured Zephyrus's interest afterall), the acrobat smiled in a distant manner when Basilides began to describe the sights he's seen in Egypt, the image painted in his mind one of color and excitement, music and celebrations everywhere. Taengea was of course, quite similar in that aspect, but the image Bas's words had given Zephyrus a feeling of was that everything in Egypt was just done in... excess. Way more then what Taengea had.
Flicking his eyes back to Bas as he voted Egypt, the young male smirked. "Because of the lack of clothes? You seem to enjoy not wearing any." he teased.
Without warning, Zeph picked his legs up so they clamped around Bas's waist, and then pushed himself up so he now sat straddling his lover's waist, and pressed his chest against the other's. "Could you speak to me in those foreign languages you've learned, love?" he murmured against the producer's earlobe, so close he could bet Bas could feel his grin.
The young male pouted when his male lover pinned him down with his own body weight, but there was little clout behind the pout. Zephyrus enjoyed having Bas's heat pressed up against him too much to care overly much, and soon curled up against his lover's side again. He tilted his head upwards when the other began to speak, curiosity and interest sparking in the hazel depths of his eyes once Bas told of the stories that came from lands beyond the Aegean sea.
"Can you speak such words still, Bas?" he asked in curiosity, turning so he lay on his back looking up in the propped up visage of the producer of their little troupe of misfit performers.
A master with words (for it had been his words that had captured Zephyrus's interest afterall), the acrobat smiled in a distant manner when Basilides began to describe the sights he's seen in Egypt, the image painted in his mind one of color and excitement, music and celebrations everywhere. Taengea was of course, quite similar in that aspect, but the image Bas's words had given Zephyrus a feeling of was that everything in Egypt was just done in... excess. Way more then what Taengea had.
Flicking his eyes back to Bas as he voted Egypt, the young male smirked. "Because of the lack of clothes? You seem to enjoy not wearing any." he teased.
Without warning, Zeph picked his legs up so they clamped around Bas's waist, and then pushed himself up so he now sat straddling his lover's waist, and pressed his chest against the other's. "Could you speak to me in those foreign languages you've learned, love?" he murmured against the producer's earlobe, so close he could bet Bas could feel his grin.
Sleep so strongly wanted to claim Basilides as he lay there, much like a lizard with the warmth of a stone beneath him. Yet, this 'stone' moved and rolled onto its back, leaving Bas to grumble slightly as his resting position was disturbed. Glancing up at his young lover's query, he raised a thick, dark brow.
In truth, he wondered himself if he still remembered enough to even string together a few sentences. It had been years since he had spoken the tongue, and his mother was adamant that all of the children learn at least some of the language. Her preferred method was to teach them poetry. To her, it was a way for them to learn uncommon words in an easy to remember rhythm.
"Perhaps," he teased, resting his chin on his arms at they folded across Zeph's hip bones. At his lover's accusation that Bas only wanted to go to Egypt for the lack of clothes, Basilides grinned and playfully nipped at the tender space beneath Zeph's navel in retaliation. It was a rather childish maneuver and before he knew it, the acrobat had the upper hand.
Bas was on his back once again, laughing the whole while and allowing his hands to wander across his lover's skin. There was a playfullness that Zephyrus could bring out of the producer that no one else had the joy of witnessing. For all they knew, he never smiled or laughed. Those were the true foreign languages to him.
Zeph, somehow, made him speak that and more.
His chest seemed to expand as his lover murmured close to his earlobe, eliciting a hum of languid desire from deep within his throat. How could he have just had his fill of this beautiful young man yet still want more?
He was getting too old for this.
Then again, the words began to spill from his lips in Coptic, almost without permission.
"To hear your voice is pomegranate wine to me.."
The words came back to him much like they did when he was younger, in his late teens.
"I draw life from hearing it."
Memories flickered for him. No, these weren't the poems his mother taught them. No, these were from Leander, as he found a tome of naughty rhymes and lyrics for wooing women.
"Could I see you with every glance..."
As each word rolled off his tongue in Coptic, he felt the shift in his lover beneath him, and while their hips remained pinned together, he lifted his torso until his lover sat straddled across him, but Bas had full range to place kisses along Zeph's neck between each phrase.
"It would be better for me than to eat or to drink."
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Sleep so strongly wanted to claim Basilides as he lay there, much like a lizard with the warmth of a stone beneath him. Yet, this 'stone' moved and rolled onto its back, leaving Bas to grumble slightly as his resting position was disturbed. Glancing up at his young lover's query, he raised a thick, dark brow.
In truth, he wondered himself if he still remembered enough to even string together a few sentences. It had been years since he had spoken the tongue, and his mother was adamant that all of the children learn at least some of the language. Her preferred method was to teach them poetry. To her, it was a way for them to learn uncommon words in an easy to remember rhythm.
"Perhaps," he teased, resting his chin on his arms at they folded across Zeph's hip bones. At his lover's accusation that Bas only wanted to go to Egypt for the lack of clothes, Basilides grinned and playfully nipped at the tender space beneath Zeph's navel in retaliation. It was a rather childish maneuver and before he knew it, the acrobat had the upper hand.
Bas was on his back once again, laughing the whole while and allowing his hands to wander across his lover's skin. There was a playfullness that Zephyrus could bring out of the producer that no one else had the joy of witnessing. For all they knew, he never smiled or laughed. Those were the true foreign languages to him.
Zeph, somehow, made him speak that and more.
His chest seemed to expand as his lover murmured close to his earlobe, eliciting a hum of languid desire from deep within his throat. How could he have just had his fill of this beautiful young man yet still want more?
He was getting too old for this.
Then again, the words began to spill from his lips in Coptic, almost without permission.
"To hear your voice is pomegranate wine to me.."
The words came back to him much like they did when he was younger, in his late teens.
"I draw life from hearing it."
Memories flickered for him. No, these weren't the poems his mother taught them. No, these were from Leander, as he found a tome of naughty rhymes and lyrics for wooing women.
"Could I see you with every glance..."
As each word rolled off his tongue in Coptic, he felt the shift in his lover beneath him, and while their hips remained pinned together, he lifted his torso until his lover sat straddled across him, but Bas had full range to place kisses along Zeph's neck between each phrase.
"It would be better for me than to eat or to drink."
Sleep so strongly wanted to claim Basilides as he lay there, much like a lizard with the warmth of a stone beneath him. Yet, this 'stone' moved and rolled onto its back, leaving Bas to grumble slightly as his resting position was disturbed. Glancing up at his young lover's query, he raised a thick, dark brow.
In truth, he wondered himself if he still remembered enough to even string together a few sentences. It had been years since he had spoken the tongue, and his mother was adamant that all of the children learn at least some of the language. Her preferred method was to teach them poetry. To her, it was a way for them to learn uncommon words in an easy to remember rhythm.
"Perhaps," he teased, resting his chin on his arms at they folded across Zeph's hip bones. At his lover's accusation that Bas only wanted to go to Egypt for the lack of clothes, Basilides grinned and playfully nipped at the tender space beneath Zeph's navel in retaliation. It was a rather childish maneuver and before he knew it, the acrobat had the upper hand.
Bas was on his back once again, laughing the whole while and allowing his hands to wander across his lover's skin. There was a playfullness that Zephyrus could bring out of the producer that no one else had the joy of witnessing. For all they knew, he never smiled or laughed. Those were the true foreign languages to him.
Zeph, somehow, made him speak that and more.
His chest seemed to expand as his lover murmured close to his earlobe, eliciting a hum of languid desire from deep within his throat. How could he have just had his fill of this beautiful young man yet still want more?
He was getting too old for this.
Then again, the words began to spill from his lips in Coptic, almost without permission.
"To hear your voice is pomegranate wine to me.."
The words came back to him much like they did when he was younger, in his late teens.
"I draw life from hearing it."
Memories flickered for him. No, these weren't the poems his mother taught them. No, these were from Leander, as he found a tome of naughty rhymes and lyrics for wooing women.
"Could I see you with every glance..."
As each word rolled off his tongue in Coptic, he felt the shift in his lover beneath him, and while their hips remained pinned together, he lifted his torso until his lover sat straddled across him, but Bas had full range to place kisses along Zeph's neck between each phrase.
"It would be better for me than to eat or to drink."
He had a thing for words, voices, sounds, the like. Zephyrus was easily tickled by them. In fact, it was Basilides's voice that first drew the acrobat to the man, when he had been listening in on him speaking to the travelling troupe's ringmaster. From that day on, Zephyrus had left his home troupe and joined the band of travelling performers and never looked back - that he eventually got to be with the very one he had been attracted to was just an added bonus, but something the aerialist appreciated very much.
He smiled like a cat who got its cream when Bas teased, for Zeph knew his lover rarely denied him many requests. Of course, it was a lie if Zeph said he was an easy partner to be with, because Zephyrus would throw his fair share of tantrums and fits whenever he did not get in his way, in particular when Basildies had to go and do his job to gain funds for the troupe. On most days however, he was one who was kind and pleasing to the eye, on top of being an excellent bed partner.
Zephyrus truly enjoyed watching his lover smile however, and when one bloomed on Basilides's lips, Zephyrus returned with one of his own, a gentle and loving one as his lover spoke in the language he had requested him to. He could never stop wanting the handsome producer, no matter how much he's had his fill of him, of that Zephyrus was sure.
Listening eagerly like a cat lapping at milk, it didn't matter to him that he did not understand the words. The very baritone of Basilides's voice was enough to make him purr in delight, pressing closer with each Coptic syllable spoken, until Bas lifted himself up. Instinctively, Zeph wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, arching his neck to allow the wandering lips to press kisses along his neckline.
In return, the aerialist wriggled his bottom against where his arse was pressed against his lover, curling legs around the other's waist to press himself closer. "Does that come with a translation?" the cheeky performer murmured, breath tickling the lobe of Basilides's ear as he whispered.
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He had a thing for words, voices, sounds, the like. Zephyrus was easily tickled by them. In fact, it was Basilides's voice that first drew the acrobat to the man, when he had been listening in on him speaking to the travelling troupe's ringmaster. From that day on, Zephyrus had left his home troupe and joined the band of travelling performers and never looked back - that he eventually got to be with the very one he had been attracted to was just an added bonus, but something the aerialist appreciated very much.
He smiled like a cat who got its cream when Bas teased, for Zeph knew his lover rarely denied him many requests. Of course, it was a lie if Zeph said he was an easy partner to be with, because Zephyrus would throw his fair share of tantrums and fits whenever he did not get in his way, in particular when Basildies had to go and do his job to gain funds for the troupe. On most days however, he was one who was kind and pleasing to the eye, on top of being an excellent bed partner.
Zephyrus truly enjoyed watching his lover smile however, and when one bloomed on Basilides's lips, Zephyrus returned with one of his own, a gentle and loving one as his lover spoke in the language he had requested him to. He could never stop wanting the handsome producer, no matter how much he's had his fill of him, of that Zephyrus was sure.
Listening eagerly like a cat lapping at milk, it didn't matter to him that he did not understand the words. The very baritone of Basilides's voice was enough to make him purr in delight, pressing closer with each Coptic syllable spoken, until Bas lifted himself up. Instinctively, Zeph wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, arching his neck to allow the wandering lips to press kisses along his neckline.
In return, the aerialist wriggled his bottom against where his arse was pressed against his lover, curling legs around the other's waist to press himself closer. "Does that come with a translation?" the cheeky performer murmured, breath tickling the lobe of Basilides's ear as he whispered.
He had a thing for words, voices, sounds, the like. Zephyrus was easily tickled by them. In fact, it was Basilides's voice that first drew the acrobat to the man, when he had been listening in on him speaking to the travelling troupe's ringmaster. From that day on, Zephyrus had left his home troupe and joined the band of travelling performers and never looked back - that he eventually got to be with the very one he had been attracted to was just an added bonus, but something the aerialist appreciated very much.
He smiled like a cat who got its cream when Bas teased, for Zeph knew his lover rarely denied him many requests. Of course, it was a lie if Zeph said he was an easy partner to be with, because Zephyrus would throw his fair share of tantrums and fits whenever he did not get in his way, in particular when Basildies had to go and do his job to gain funds for the troupe. On most days however, he was one who was kind and pleasing to the eye, on top of being an excellent bed partner.
Zephyrus truly enjoyed watching his lover smile however, and when one bloomed on Basilides's lips, Zephyrus returned with one of his own, a gentle and loving one as his lover spoke in the language he had requested him to. He could never stop wanting the handsome producer, no matter how much he's had his fill of him, of that Zephyrus was sure.
Listening eagerly like a cat lapping at milk, it didn't matter to him that he did not understand the words. The very baritone of Basilides's voice was enough to make him purr in delight, pressing closer with each Coptic syllable spoken, until Bas lifted himself up. Instinctively, Zeph wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, arching his neck to allow the wandering lips to press kisses along his neckline.
In return, the aerialist wriggled his bottom against where his arse was pressed against his lover, curling legs around the other's waist to press himself closer. "Does that come with a translation?" the cheeky performer murmured, breath tickling the lobe of Basilides's ear as he whispered.
Holding onto Zephyrus was one of the most rewarding feelings in his life. Not one of the many lovers he had held never compared to the way the young man's skin felt beneath his lips and his hands. It almost made him lose the words as he spoke them, distracted by the young man's gods-given beauty. No artist could recreate his lithe form, his curls, the color of his eyes. It would be impossible to capture him in stone.
"Hm?" Bas hummed, lifting his head from lavishing his lover in kisses and touches to meet his eyes. The question registered with him again, "Oh...it does."
Basilides paused a moment, a soft smile curling as he watched his lover's impatience bubble to the surface. Yes, perhaps he was guilty of instigating many of their issues, but he loved watching Zephyrus give in to his almost childish fits when he did not get what he wanted when he wanted it.
For them both, such knowledge aided in their bedroom games.
"It is about how you can love someone so much that you need them more than food or wine," he offered, his words slowing as he made the realization that the poem had become quite the confessional to the young man. Bas' eyes caught his lovers as the moment sunk in, and an uncharacteristic blush rose to his cheeks as he glanced away.
Admitting his feelings was a rarity for Basilides, leaving him feeling vulnerable for a moment, more so than the vulnerability of laying bare in a tent with his lover only feet away from other members of the troupe. No, baring his feelings was far more striking, and he knew it held that impact because he did not often say the word 'love' in their relationship.
Yet, there was no denying that he loved Zephyrus.
And it took speaking a Coptic poemfor him to admit it.
His eyes glanced around the room as if to find some other point of conversation to grip onto, but with the way his lover straddled him and how their breath mingled, there was no escaping the fact that he had just laid his heart out before them. Swallowing lightly at his sudden bashfulness, he chanced a glance back to Zephyrus' eyes, noting how they had never left his face. His hand shifted up to brush away a curl that lingered too close to the young man's eyes before he let his hand linger there, cupping his young lover's face in a silent moment.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Holding onto Zephyrus was one of the most rewarding feelings in his life. Not one of the many lovers he had held never compared to the way the young man's skin felt beneath his lips and his hands. It almost made him lose the words as he spoke them, distracted by the young man's gods-given beauty. No artist could recreate his lithe form, his curls, the color of his eyes. It would be impossible to capture him in stone.
"Hm?" Bas hummed, lifting his head from lavishing his lover in kisses and touches to meet his eyes. The question registered with him again, "Oh...it does."
Basilides paused a moment, a soft smile curling as he watched his lover's impatience bubble to the surface. Yes, perhaps he was guilty of instigating many of their issues, but he loved watching Zephyrus give in to his almost childish fits when he did not get what he wanted when he wanted it.
For them both, such knowledge aided in their bedroom games.
"It is about how you can love someone so much that you need them more than food or wine," he offered, his words slowing as he made the realization that the poem had become quite the confessional to the young man. Bas' eyes caught his lovers as the moment sunk in, and an uncharacteristic blush rose to his cheeks as he glanced away.
Admitting his feelings was a rarity for Basilides, leaving him feeling vulnerable for a moment, more so than the vulnerability of laying bare in a tent with his lover only feet away from other members of the troupe. No, baring his feelings was far more striking, and he knew it held that impact because he did not often say the word 'love' in their relationship.
Yet, there was no denying that he loved Zephyrus.
And it took speaking a Coptic poemfor him to admit it.
His eyes glanced around the room as if to find some other point of conversation to grip onto, but with the way his lover straddled him and how their breath mingled, there was no escaping the fact that he had just laid his heart out before them. Swallowing lightly at his sudden bashfulness, he chanced a glance back to Zephyrus' eyes, noting how they had never left his face. His hand shifted up to brush away a curl that lingered too close to the young man's eyes before he let his hand linger there, cupping his young lover's face in a silent moment.
Holding onto Zephyrus was one of the most rewarding feelings in his life. Not one of the many lovers he had held never compared to the way the young man's skin felt beneath his lips and his hands. It almost made him lose the words as he spoke them, distracted by the young man's gods-given beauty. No artist could recreate his lithe form, his curls, the color of his eyes. It would be impossible to capture him in stone.
"Hm?" Bas hummed, lifting his head from lavishing his lover in kisses and touches to meet his eyes. The question registered with him again, "Oh...it does."
Basilides paused a moment, a soft smile curling as he watched his lover's impatience bubble to the surface. Yes, perhaps he was guilty of instigating many of their issues, but he loved watching Zephyrus give in to his almost childish fits when he did not get what he wanted when he wanted it.
For them both, such knowledge aided in their bedroom games.
"It is about how you can love someone so much that you need them more than food or wine," he offered, his words slowing as he made the realization that the poem had become quite the confessional to the young man. Bas' eyes caught his lovers as the moment sunk in, and an uncharacteristic blush rose to his cheeks as he glanced away.
Admitting his feelings was a rarity for Basilides, leaving him feeling vulnerable for a moment, more so than the vulnerability of laying bare in a tent with his lover only feet away from other members of the troupe. No, baring his feelings was far more striking, and he knew it held that impact because he did not often say the word 'love' in their relationship.
Yet, there was no denying that he loved Zephyrus.
And it took speaking a Coptic poemfor him to admit it.
His eyes glanced around the room as if to find some other point of conversation to grip onto, but with the way his lover straddled him and how their breath mingled, there was no escaping the fact that he had just laid his heart out before them. Swallowing lightly at his sudden bashfulness, he chanced a glance back to Zephyrus' eyes, noting how they had never left his face. His hand shifted up to brush away a curl that lingered too close to the young man's eyes before he let his hand linger there, cupping his young lover's face in a silent moment.
The smile merely widened when the translation was given, his hip wriggling slightly to nestle himself even more comfortably against his lover's lower half. Nuzzling the crook of Basilides's neck as the man offered his words in translation, he turned up to see the slow blush creeping on the man's cheeks, and for that fleeting moment, the young acrobat understood what love was. They may fight, argue, and have many cold wars, but at the end of the day, young Zephyrus always came back to his lover's arms, and in them he found his completion.
Purring happily in a slow hum that was not unlike a contented cat, Zeph chuckled when Bas tried to avert his eyes, but eventually found them settling back on him. He wanted to tease his lover, for such confessions of his devotion were rare amidst all their arguments, yet when their eyes met, Zeph found himself unable to do so. It was a moment of tenderness he found himself unable to let go, and so Zeph merely leaned into his hands when he cupped against the other's face, allowing the silence to linger before he spoke.
"I love you too." He replied, always the more forthcoming of the two. Unlike Bas, Zeph was unabashed of who he loved, and how he loved. It was why their bedroom games only went up a notch each time when it came to Zeph, for he wasn't shy at all about his inclinations and desires. Luckily for him, his lover indulged him with it, perhaps even shared his love for it.
Leaning in to close the distance between the two, he eagerly took the other's lips with his own, not caring that they had just moments ago been attached both at the lips and hip, Zephyrus kissed his lover with an intensity a mix of want and love, nipping occasionally before he pulled away, his breath mixing with the other's, nose touching nose, his pendant dangling in between them as he murmured against Bas's lips. "Would you bring me everywhere with you?"
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The smile merely widened when the translation was given, his hip wriggling slightly to nestle himself even more comfortably against his lover's lower half. Nuzzling the crook of Basilides's neck as the man offered his words in translation, he turned up to see the slow blush creeping on the man's cheeks, and for that fleeting moment, the young acrobat understood what love was. They may fight, argue, and have many cold wars, but at the end of the day, young Zephyrus always came back to his lover's arms, and in them he found his completion.
Purring happily in a slow hum that was not unlike a contented cat, Zeph chuckled when Bas tried to avert his eyes, but eventually found them settling back on him. He wanted to tease his lover, for such confessions of his devotion were rare amidst all their arguments, yet when their eyes met, Zeph found himself unable to do so. It was a moment of tenderness he found himself unable to let go, and so Zeph merely leaned into his hands when he cupped against the other's face, allowing the silence to linger before he spoke.
"I love you too." He replied, always the more forthcoming of the two. Unlike Bas, Zeph was unabashed of who he loved, and how he loved. It was why their bedroom games only went up a notch each time when it came to Zeph, for he wasn't shy at all about his inclinations and desires. Luckily for him, his lover indulged him with it, perhaps even shared his love for it.
Leaning in to close the distance between the two, he eagerly took the other's lips with his own, not caring that they had just moments ago been attached both at the lips and hip, Zephyrus kissed his lover with an intensity a mix of want and love, nipping occasionally before he pulled away, his breath mixing with the other's, nose touching nose, his pendant dangling in between them as he murmured against Bas's lips. "Would you bring me everywhere with you?"
The smile merely widened when the translation was given, his hip wriggling slightly to nestle himself even more comfortably against his lover's lower half. Nuzzling the crook of Basilides's neck as the man offered his words in translation, he turned up to see the slow blush creeping on the man's cheeks, and for that fleeting moment, the young acrobat understood what love was. They may fight, argue, and have many cold wars, but at the end of the day, young Zephyrus always came back to his lover's arms, and in them he found his completion.
Purring happily in a slow hum that was not unlike a contented cat, Zeph chuckled when Bas tried to avert his eyes, but eventually found them settling back on him. He wanted to tease his lover, for such confessions of his devotion were rare amidst all their arguments, yet when their eyes met, Zeph found himself unable to do so. It was a moment of tenderness he found himself unable to let go, and so Zeph merely leaned into his hands when he cupped against the other's face, allowing the silence to linger before he spoke.
"I love you too." He replied, always the more forthcoming of the two. Unlike Bas, Zeph was unabashed of who he loved, and how he loved. It was why their bedroom games only went up a notch each time when it came to Zeph, for he wasn't shy at all about his inclinations and desires. Luckily for him, his lover indulged him with it, perhaps even shared his love for it.
Leaning in to close the distance between the two, he eagerly took the other's lips with his own, not caring that they had just moments ago been attached both at the lips and hip, Zephyrus kissed his lover with an intensity a mix of want and love, nipping occasionally before he pulled away, his breath mixing with the other's, nose touching nose, his pendant dangling in between them as he murmured against Bas's lips. "Would you bring me everywhere with you?"
Basilides all but rolled his eyes as he caught his lover's glance, though an affectionate grin curled at his lips and softened the embarrassment at the corners of his eyes. It was no secret that he was not the most affectionate and caring person in the world, and that despite the connection between them, he knew that he did not often admit to or reflect the feelings that Zephyrus was so open with towards him. Bas was never ashamed of what they had, only ashamed of how he knew he neglected it.
Indulging in the kiss the same way one would indulge in a decadent dessert, Bas let his hands roam along the acrobat's torso, the pads of his fingers having memorized the cords of muscle by heart. He could practically smell the want and desire on his lover, and he breathed the softest sound of protest into the kiss, knowing that his age and seemingly perpetual exhaustion was no match for Zephyrus' endless energy and passion. Instead, as he lover mused another question, the producer laid them both down again into the mattress, maneuvering them until his lover's back was flush against his own chest, the shape made by the bends of their legs slotting perfectly into place.
With his arms wrapping around the younger man's torso, a slight yawn laced his words as he tugged the man as close as possible and nestled his proud nose against the crook of his neck.
"Everywhere. I promise."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Basilides all but rolled his eyes as he caught his lover's glance, though an affectionate grin curled at his lips and softened the embarrassment at the corners of his eyes. It was no secret that he was not the most affectionate and caring person in the world, and that despite the connection between them, he knew that he did not often admit to or reflect the feelings that Zephyrus was so open with towards him. Bas was never ashamed of what they had, only ashamed of how he knew he neglected it.
Indulging in the kiss the same way one would indulge in a decadent dessert, Bas let his hands roam along the acrobat's torso, the pads of his fingers having memorized the cords of muscle by heart. He could practically smell the want and desire on his lover, and he breathed the softest sound of protest into the kiss, knowing that his age and seemingly perpetual exhaustion was no match for Zephyrus' endless energy and passion. Instead, as he lover mused another question, the producer laid them both down again into the mattress, maneuvering them until his lover's back was flush against his own chest, the shape made by the bends of their legs slotting perfectly into place.
With his arms wrapping around the younger man's torso, a slight yawn laced his words as he tugged the man as close as possible and nestled his proud nose against the crook of his neck.
"Everywhere. I promise."
Basilides all but rolled his eyes as he caught his lover's glance, though an affectionate grin curled at his lips and softened the embarrassment at the corners of his eyes. It was no secret that he was not the most affectionate and caring person in the world, and that despite the connection between them, he knew that he did not often admit to or reflect the feelings that Zephyrus was so open with towards him. Bas was never ashamed of what they had, only ashamed of how he knew he neglected it.
Indulging in the kiss the same way one would indulge in a decadent dessert, Bas let his hands roam along the acrobat's torso, the pads of his fingers having memorized the cords of muscle by heart. He could practically smell the want and desire on his lover, and he breathed the softest sound of protest into the kiss, knowing that his age and seemingly perpetual exhaustion was no match for Zephyrus' endless energy and passion. Instead, as he lover mused another question, the producer laid them both down again into the mattress, maneuvering them until his lover's back was flush against his own chest, the shape made by the bends of their legs slotting perfectly into place.
With his arms wrapping around the younger man's torso, a slight yawn laced his words as he tugged the man as close as possible and nestled his proud nose against the crook of his neck.