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[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

How curious. A man in love with another, yet not within Desire's realm.

As Desire peers out through his citadel, her likeness made of flesh and tissue, he cannot help but grin at the sight.

The blonde one, he is certainly one of Desire's, though not yet ruled. His affections, his attractions, they are plain to see. With but a slight a pull, Desire could intensify those. Make him a glad servant of the women he reviles.

But yet, this man feels desire without love. He is just like so many over whom Desire holds sway. He is boring.

It's the other man who makes this so interesting. The Russian. He feels love, but the desire is not there. Sure, there are twinges and occasional longings, but not a true craving.

That makes him interesting. That makes him fresh and exciting. And because this is a game, Desire has to conquer that. This man must come into the world of desire.

So Desire turns again to the blonde one. He pushes and pulls on the threads connecting him. She reweaves him, subtly, letting things fall into place. But not into the woman, no.

The object of love has to become an object of desire. What better way than to turn the emotions back? Let the object desire for the objector.

Watch and learn, my sister.

Comments

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

The cast came off today and Savant is on cloud nine, despite the looming physical therapy and the fact that he'll be on a crutch for a while yet. Being able to take a shower instead of a sponge bath is in an of itself reason enough to celebrate (even if the blasted shower still leaks).

The blond stands under the hot spray, lathering his hair for the second time and thinking of nothing in particular, simply enjoying the shower and riding his own elation.

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Here's a push. There's a pull. Here's a twist.

And there's the smell of Creote's cooking...

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Creote's been on Savant's mind even more than usual lately. Now, thoughts of his friend are accompanied not by culinary curiosity, but by restlessness. Savant rinses his hair, pulling it through his fingers until it squeaks with cleanliness.

Knowing that he's loved is a strange thing in and of itself. The situation should be intolerably awkward. Except that, somehow, it isn't. There has not been the slightest change in Creote's behavior, and Savant has been watching closely for them.

He'd decided that he would simply ignore that aspect of their relationship and continue their friendship as they had before.

Savant turns off the shower. That notion is displeasing to him now and he cannot for the life of him think of why that might be. After all, he thinks, limping to the towel rack, nothing has changed. Nothing that should matter.

Except...

Savant frowns deeply as he finally identifies his restlessness. Preposterous! He does not want Creote in that fashion! Creote is his trusted friend, not some tryst.

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

The towel on Savant's skin is soft, almost caressing. The refreshment of a shower, the heat, the feel on his skin...It's easy to get lost in it all. To give onself over to fantasy and what-could-be.

The drip from the showerhead onto the ceramic basin is jarring, and brings Savant back to his senses.

Almost entirely.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

He's been cooped up for far too long, that is the problem. He's going stir-crazy. Now that he's back on his own two feet, he'll have to pick up his training again and get back on patrol as soon as possible.

Savant dresses quickly -- jeans! He can wear jeans again and not cut-off sweatpants! -- but leaves his shirt on top of the toilet tank. Gotham summers are muggy, sticky and miserable, even after sundown. Given the circumstances, sure Creote will forgive him for showing up at the dinner table less than fully dressed. He's certainly put up with worse. Savant snags his crutch and makes his way toward the kitchen. He does need to talk with Creote. The lease here will run out soon. He does not think that Oracle will renew it and he certainly does not intend to stay here. They must plan their next move.

Creote is facing away when Savant arrives in the kitchen. The big man's black muscle shirt is soaked through with the sweat gleaming on his bared arms and broad shoulders. Small tendrils of Creote's dark auburn hair cling to the nape of his neck.

Savant dimly recalls that he came to the kitchen for a reason, but his memory must be playing tricks again. And so he stands, speechless.

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

Creote turns to face Savant--does the Russian look softer? More delicate and gentle? Surely not, at his size. Still, there must be something different about him.

"Dinner will be ready soon." The smell of Kotmis Satsivi (http://www.ruscuisine.com/cooking-recipes/index.php/Meat-Dishes/?recipe=484&offset=0) and Chrov plav (http://www.ruscuisine.com/cooking-recipes/index.php/Vegetable-Dishes/?recipe=397&offset=12) simmering on the stove has flooded the apartment, yet Creote's own aroma--no, musk--is still present, especially with the sweat. It's not a bad smell. It's simply there. Noticeable.

Not the stealty creature he so often must be.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Creote's version of down-home cooking. He must be in a very good mood.

Savant suddenly feels very awkward, clumping around Creote's domain on one sound leg. Nonetheless, he draws closer to the stove.

"Smells good." The words are quiet and maybe Savant is not looking at the chicken when he says that. Creote's sweat isn't unfamiliar either; their lifestyle is hardly sedentary. They spar, they fight back-to-back, and, occasionally, they run like hell. The scent triggers memories of adrenaline and easy comraderie. Fuel for whatever brightly burning thing is consuming his mind and flesh.

Moving like a man half dreaming, Savant brushes Creote's hair away from where it sticks to his shoulders.

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

It's hair. Hair is soft. But does all hair feel that way? Has Savant felt Creote's before? Would he remember anyway?

The touch is slightly jarring to Creote, for whom physical contact more often than not means violence and probably death. Not that he can't do personal contact, but it's rarer these days.

Creote doesn't notice where Savant is looking though, as he seems fairly focused on the food.

"How's your leg?"

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

"Ah..." Savant smiles despite himself. He feels odd. Intoxicated. Maybe a bit giddy. "Better for being out of that cast. Pale, though. A terrible contrast to the rest of me, however. I'll need to get some sun."

Savant contemplates the tie holding Creote's hair in place, but decides against undoing it. He's not so drunk on the moment that he wants to chance what Creote might do if hairs find their way into supper. He does edge closer, however.

Scent. Sight. Touch. Sound. What's missing? Oh.

Truly?

Yes.

Despite everything, the kiss that touches the back of Creote's neck is a small, hesitant thing.

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

...

"Savant, are you okay?"

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Savant finds his heart has suddenly relocated from his chest to his throat. He has not been punched. Calm. Smile. It's not as if you've exactly been caught at anything.

"I believe that I am."

And Creote is turned toward him now. A personality trait that has served Savant well in his blackmailing career is his willingness to take advantage of any situation. And Creote is facing him now. Savant doesn't quite have to stand on tip-toe to give him a proper kiss.

There is a part of him that wonders just what the hell he's doing, but it is not making itself heard over other concerns.

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

For being such a large person, Creote moves easily and swiftly.

But not out of the way. Perhaps just due to the force behind Savant's push, Creote is backed onto the stove. The rice dish is knocked over, it's contents spilling everywhere, but the meat dish is saved.

For the briefest of moments, Creote allows himself to savor the taste of Savant's lips. But then he quickly grabs the man by his shoulders and lifts him up and away from.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Briefest of brief though it may have been, it's still one foot in the door to Desire's realm.

The Endless changes nothing for now, content merely to sit back and watch.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Once set back on his feet, Savant is stunned into momentary silence. There is absolutely no logical way for him to explain his actions, or the fact that he'd been starting to enjoy himself.

He counters with a question.

"You aren't enjoying it?"

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

"That...has nothing to do with it. You are not yourself, Savant. You're not...this way."

He's heard about enough mind-control cases that that's what he's attributing this to. That, or some cruel joke. But Savant wouldn't play that. So it has to be mind-control. Or something.

What can he ask to figure this out, though? Anyone gone tampering with your brain lately?

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Savant's first thought is to respond with, "And how can you be certain that you know me so well?"

Except that this is Creote, which would make it a stupid question.

"Perhaps I am not the same man I was when we first met. Haven't we been through a lot together since Athens?" His head is starting to clear somewhat, but, somehow, what has just happened bothers him far less than the fact that he cannot explain why he did it. Hardly at all, in fact.

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Push, pull, weave.

Give in.

Even Creote can feel it this time, though perhaps not as strongly.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Savant sighs quietly, relaxing a little as the words finally form themselves. "Creote, you are my best friend. You know me better than anyone else ever has and I trust you completely." He steps forward, laying the fingertips of his left hand lightly on Creote's wrist. "There are worse starting points from which to explore things, you know."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

The touch is electric, and Creote must fight to pull away, but pull away he does.

"I am dreaming. It is the only other explanation."

An admission of possible lust on Creote's part? It's all the Endless needs to push more, opening Creote's mind and intensifying as he can.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Stubborn, over-muscled Russian mule. Nice to know that some things are steady constants in the universe.

"If you're dreaming, then there's nothing to worry about, is there? But I assure you, you are not dreaming and there is still nothing for you to be worried about."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

Another push. Another pull. Another weave.

The Satsivi is ruined, but neither men notice.

"No. You are not this way, and when this mind-control wears off, I cannot have done thing thing. It is taking advantage of you."

He's nervous, anxious, and his accent is showing. His manner of speaking, too, has lost its casuality, sounding like someone who has studied English as a second language.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

"You are being ridiculous, Creote! Are you honestly telling me that you believe someone altered my mind in the fifteen minutes it took me to shower? After I've been a perfect sitting duck for almost three months?" Savant shakes his head. "It makes no sense."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

"Neither does this sudden emotion!"

He's actually raising his voice.

"You learn from the Huntress that I am devoted to you, and you do not comprehend. You analyze and you worry and you believe strange thoughts about what that means! And now you come to me with this, and you expect me to believe that you are well?"

Perhaps it's not mind-control. Perhaps his already fragmented sense of time is carrying over into the rest of his psyche. Or perhaps the Greek speaks the truth, and this is natural.

But bizarre wants aside, Creote refuses to accept it.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

"Months ago! I found out months ago -- very suddenly, if you recall! -- that you were -- ARE -- in love with me! From one of the Those Women! After years of partnership! Of course it was a shock! But I have had time to think on the matter and why in the world do you think that deciding that this does not need to be a one-sided--" Romance? Affair? "--thing mean that I am unwell?"

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

Push. Pull. Weave.

Creote grabs Savant with the intention of shaking him to his senses, but fails to follow through.

"Why now?"

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Savant may not be very quick on his feet currently, but he sees the grab coming in time that he doesn't startle at it.

"Why not now? We are intimates, Creote, even if that hasn't ever progressed to the physical aspect."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

It is Creote's own building attraction which makes him truly worry. He has loved Savant, yes. But as he affirmed, love and sex do not necessarily go hand in hand. Creote has never let himself feel lust for Savant, and can't understand that change.

Creote quickly pulls his hands away, even realizing that the gesture is unfinished. Touch amplifies feeling, as does eye-contact, which is why Creote cannot look Savant directly in the face either.

What he does see doesn't help. Muscles. Leftover water droplets from Savant's shower on his bare chest.

Damnit.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Savant presses his point.

"You know I am right."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

And Creote remains stubborn.

"No, I do not."

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

Savant grins. "And I know you are only protesting out of reflex now."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

Push. Pull. Weave.

Creote turns entirely away from Savant back to dinner, only to just know discover that his entire--and somewhat expensive--meal has been ruined. And yet, he doesn't care that much. Without even sighing, he grabs a rag and starts wiping up the mess.

"I am doing no such thing." He just can't face the man as he says it.

[brian-durlin.livejournal.com]

"It is exactly what you are doing. I would go so far as to call it an endearing trait, if that were not an utter lie." His leg aches from standing in one place for so long, so Savant reluctantly goes to take a seat at the table. "Really, Creote, I do not know how to make my intentions -- or my reasoning -- more plain. I could always be more blatant, I suppose, but that does not seem like something you would appreciate."

[love-of-duty.livejournal.com]

Despite himself, Creote cannot help but think that it would indeed help.

It's that thought which cements it, that hidden craving. Creote has been inducted into Desire's realm, and there is no removal.

"I'm calling for delivery."

Creote, not only willing to eat the trash that pizza-chains sell, but willing to order it? Clearly he's more affected than it seems.

[jla-extras.livejournal.com]

Desire laughs a bit as the scene unfolds. He has won this time. The Russian has become one of his.

She turns away, but undoes nothing. There is no undoing. It has changed nothing, only unlocked everything. The work is done.