Author/Artist: chromatic_coma @ animusia
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Greece, Turkey , Ancient Egypt, Ancient Rome, mentions of Ancient Greece
Warnings: implied incest
Summary: de-anon from hetalia_kink. One night Herakles and Sadiq have an intense session of intercourse. The next day, they find out they are father and son. Oops.
Herakles was a rather simple person. He ate when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, and showered whenever he felt uncomfortable in his skin. He had taken to living his life that way, doing whatever it was he felt like when the fancy struck, without thinking too much about it one way or the other. He had learned about himself at a young age that he could very often get so lost in thought that he forgot what he’d been thinking about in the first place, and so he saved that for the less vital matters of life.
This meant, of course, that whenever he was horny, he went out for a fuck. Tonight’s club was a little raunchier than most, which Herakles chalked up to the end of finals’ week for those people still lucky enough to be in college. He sat at the bar, nursing an Ouzo drink and surveying the crowd. A few girls tried to catch his eye, but the way they had their make-up smeared on made him wary of holding it. He’d forgotten to bring a condom with him.
“I’ll take a Raki.”
A familiar voice (and order) roused Herakles from his thoughts, and he was wholly unsurprised, if not entirely annoyed, to discover that Sadiq Adnan had taken the bar stool beside his. Before attempting to make conversation, he took a long sip of his drink, but by then Sadiq had seen him.
“Fancy seeing ya here,” he snorted, already smirking enough that his canine teeth could be seen. “Yer right hand just not good enough anymore?”
Herakles rolled his eyes, swallowing the drink without difficulty and replying calmly, “I’m left-handed.”
“Figures ya would be. Not gonna deny being here for a lay?”
Herakles shrugged, finishing his glass and requesting another, “I don’t have to. It’s none of your fucking concern.”
Sadiq barked a laugh, and Herakles could feel the other’s eyes on him. He and Sadiq had known each other for quite some time, ever since his days as a graduate philosophy major. Sadiq had been the guard on duty at his dorm. Harassing the other had certainly given Herakles something entertaining to do between his classes and papers, and Sadiq was just immature enough to give into it and retaliate. Quite often the two had butted heads over the most redundant of things, and it soon came to the point where detesting one another became the norm upon which their interactions were based.
Even now, two years after his graduation, Herakles still felt unsettled having the huge Turkish man so close to him. There was something about him that left Herakles always feeling uneasy, and even slightly inebriated it wasn’t gone. He decided it was an excuse for more alcohol, and with a third glass in hand he turned back to the crowd to look for a one night stand.
“Ya know, if yer lookin’ fer a partner...” Sadiq voice drew Herakles’ attention to him once again, and when he turned around the other man was significantly closer to him than he had been before. Herakles scoffed,
“Why would you even offer?”
“I’ve heard some things about ya,” Sadiq murmured nonchalantly. “Sure it’ll take a few drinks to make me actually wanna touch ya, but yer not too hard on the eyes.”
Herakles hummed, giving the man a once over from the corner of his eyes. Sadiq wasn’t very hard on the eyes either, with a strong torso and arms that barely betrayed his age. The only true turn off was the fierceness in his eyes that made it hard to even want to be with him, but perhaps alcohol would have the desired effect of mellowing out their intensity. And while his own personal standards would normally never allow him to accept the offer, his cock was desperate and his body curious as to how the other would feel against him, hot and naked and cursing gruffly in his ear…
Heat sparked in his body, now, with the alcohol and the images his mind was generating acting as the ultimate catalyst. Downing the rest of the glass, Herakles finally met Sadiq’s gaze, his sea green eyes smoldering with wordless agreement. Sadiq’s smile grew wide and thin, his palm finding its way to Herakles’ thigh, then his ass, as he polished off his own drink.
They were going to do it.
Reluctantly, Herakles finally had to admit to himself that Sadiq was the first partner he’d had that came that close to matching his prowess. Sufficiently drunk, both men tumbled into the closest empty room they could find, barely managing to keep their clothes on until the door was shut behind them.
Everything after that was a blur of sensations and fleeting images: a nip at Herakles’ jugular, harsh flicking at Sadiq’s nipples, heavy, hot opened mouthed kisses and loud, guttural moans that came in time with harsh handed strokes and relentless scratching at sensitive skin. And after they were sufficiently marked by one another’s hands, feet, teeth, they went down on each other.
For a moment, Herakles forgot that he was supposed to hate this man.
And, somehow when it was all said and done, he wasn’t reminded. His expectation was that this was a quick fuck for them both, so when the final waves of their orgasms washed over them and they were collecting their breaths, it was nothing short of surprising when Sadiq threw an arm around Herakles’ waist.
“Hm?” he questioned softly, his eyebrows furrowed but his gaze still a little hazy from sweat and ecstasy. Sadiq didn’t answer as he guided him down onto the bed, still holding him with a gentleness that felt so foreign after their rough sex. Herakles realized belatedly that they were cuddling, and found that he either didn’t mind or was too tired to resist as his body fell slack in the other’s arms.
“Figured ya earned it,” Sadiq murmured huskily in his ear, but the thickness in his voice was no longer from arousal, but from weariness.
And, because Herakles was in a good mood, he decided to indulge the other in some pillow talk that Sadiq’s intent stare implied he wanted. “So the rumors were right?”
Sadiq laughed, “I’d hate ta trip yer ego, but yer the best fuck I had in long while… proa’lly since Helene…”
He trailed off, only to stare more deeply at Herakles. Who started to feel a little unsettled, but he wasn’t too sure why.
“Funny, ya look at a lot like her, too.”
Oh, that was why.
“Helene? Hm… that is also my mother’s name.”
Gauging Sadiq’s reaction proved that his mind was starting to follow the same path as Herakles’. “How old are ya, kid?”
“Shit,” Sadiq murmured. “I’m guessin’ ya haven’t got a clue who yer pa is?”
And at that point, Herakles was certain he and Sadiq were coming to the same conclusion:
“Why couldn’t we jus’ go ask yer ma’ about this, insteada goin’ on this chase to find this other lady?”
“My mother passed away a few years ago. And stop whining, her house is right there.”
Sadiq sobered up after a huff, following Herakles as the duo walked up to an old house at the end of a suburban block. The previous night had been rough for them both; after coming to the realization that there was a chance, however small, that they were father and son, they had to remind themselves that the chance was very small, and even then it took a while for sleep to come.
When he awoke, groggy and under rested, Sadiq wondered if there was a way they could figure this out quick, because he did not want to have to continue wondering unknowingly for very long. After coaxing Herakles to get up and out of bed (which took a considerably longer amount of time than it should have), he grumbled that there was someone who would know.
Which brought the duo to where they were now, a jaded old house, with red shutters and white windowpanes that looked as if it had endured many repair jobs over the years. While Herakles climbed up the porch steps and knocked, Sadiq hung back to inspect the place, wondering who could live in a home like this.
“Hello there!” a man’s booming voice called out when the door swung open. Sadiq grimaced, and even Herakles seemed to be caught off guard.
“Is Aunt Amunet home?”
The man in the doorway smiled, and his head turned as though he was about to call for someone in the house, when suddenly he furrowed his eyebrows and leaned into Herakles. “And just who’re you, exactly?”
“Marcus,” a sharp, feminine voice came from inside the house, followed by a petite woman pushing the man aside. She smiled at Herakles and pulled him into a gentle, short hug. “Welcome back, Herakles.”
“Thank you,” he murmured back. Sadiq felt very much like an outsider, until the woman’s hawk-like gaze turned to him; her eyes were the color of burnt amber, and he felt as if they were looking right into him.
“Is this your friend?” she asked calmly, never once taking her eyes off Sadiq. He did his best to meet her stare (while noticing that she was a rather gorgeous woman), but his eyes were beginning to sting.
“Ah, this is… Sadiq.” Herakles explained lamely. “We actually have something to ask you.”
Finally the woman broke her stare, and with a soft sigh she murmured, “Yes, I do suppose this is a conversation long overdue. Please, come inside.”
She went in, and Sadiq looked up at Herakles, confusion etched clearly on his face. Herakles shrugged, and followed, holding the door open just as it was about to close, obviously an afterthought. Sadiq was struck by how foreign even that small amount of courtesy was; if anything, Herakles would usually derive pleasure from hearing Sadiq swear as the door closed on him.
The inside of the house, Sadiq noticed, matched the outside to a tee. The furniture brought up memories of his childhood, growing up with his distant father in a house too big for the two of them. It was old not so much in quality, which was still usable, but in its colors and patterns, and the Middle Eastern influence on the design was nothing short of obvious.
“Amunet, who are these men?” the burly man who had opened the door asked from his place in the entry of the living room. Amunet did not answer immediately and he pouted, repeating the question in a whiny tone. Sadiq decided then that he was a ditz.
“Marcus,” she finally acknowledged in a voice as thick as honey. “Would you mind making us some tea?”
He protested, but as Sadiq had pretty much observed from the start she had him whipped. Not that he couldn’t see why; the woman was beautiful and had an air of mystery about her. Had Sadiq not have stayed up most of the night wondering if the man laying beside him was his not-so-little boy (a thought that made shivers run down his spine it just couldn’t be), he would have considered getting into her sexy black lingerie that night.
She gestured for them to sit on the handsome loveseat in the living room, taking the armchair beside it and looking from the one of them to the other.
“Herakles,” she started softly. “Tell me more about your friend.”
“He isn’t my friend,” Herakles replied readily, and Sadiq was torn between agreement and, oddly enough, indignation.
The woman, Amunet, hummed. “But you know one another.”
“What is it you wanted to ask?” she asked softly, once again training her gaze intently on Sadiq. He answered gruffly,
“We were, uh, jus’ wonderin’… if maybe th’re’s a…”
“Connection,” Herakles supplied when Sadiq trailed off.
“Yeah, a connection between us.”
Amunet licked her thin lips, breathing out a gentle sigh. “Sadiq, is it?” He nodded, and she continued,
“You attended the Sapienza University of Rome,” she was not asking this time, but still he nodded, slight awed.
“I attended the same University,” Amunet explained. “But I was in the graduating class after yours. And my closest friend and roommate was a woman, Helene Karpusi. You may recognize the name?”
“I do,” Sadiq mumbled, his heart starting to pound. That name was tugging at his heartstrings, something in his mind repeating it over and over until finally it clicked:
“…Th’ las’ night of finals’ week, sophomore year?”
Memories of that night were, for Sadiq, faint up until a point. Relieved at the completion of final exams and the beginning of summer vacation, he went out to a nightclub party with some of his friends. A lot of alcohol was involved, and the buzz of the atmosphere only added to his buzz. There was a girl… no, two girls, one with sharp amber eyes and the other…
Well, the other had Herakles’ eyes.
Faintly he remembered dancing with her, her alluring control of her body. Her body which, Sadiq had observed later when she was naked beneath him, was not all too feminine, but had sharp shoulders and gangly arms she hadn’t quite grown into, arms which betrayed a ripple of muscles underneath her skin. He had teasingly asked if she worked out, and she silenced him with a particularly devious grope of his cock…
The more he thought about it, the more Sadiq realized he remembered more of that night than he previously thought he had. She was feisty, not as submissive as other girls he’d fucked and she was the only girl he’d ever considered fucking twice. She had no qualms being rough with him and didn’t cry when he was rough with her, except when she was moaning, stubbornly refusing to ask for more, more, more…
But when he woke up the next morning she was still asleep, and his head was throbbing from a hangover so he didn’t even consider leaving her his address; he just left. And in Turkey there had been other girls, none as good, and he never ran into her again, assumed she was a student somewhere else, until she faded from his memory almost entirely.
When Sadiq came out of his pensive state he noticed the tea on the table, Amunet looking at him more patiently.
Herakles, he noticed, simply looked disgusted.
“I can’t believe my mother had sex with you.”
“Can it, brat. Yer ma was lucky she got me.”
Herakles snorted. Amunet took a small sip of her tea, making sure to nosily put the teacup back down. Both men looked at her, sheepish but indignant.
“Ya still have’n proven if we’re related or not.”
A smile spread on the woman’s face, but when she licked the vestiges of tea off her lip, it had vanished.
“Shortly after the semester ended, Helene’s mother passed away. She rushed back to Greece, and returned two weeks later, utterly heartbroken over her passing. So much so, it started to have a toll on her physical health. She was not eating very much, and a month after that she complained of headaches and nausea. I made more of an effort to ensure that she ate, but her appetite was also quite poor. It took a while for us to realize what was truly going on, but after a full month of this, in early July, a doctor told us that Helene was beginning her third month of pregnancy.
“Once the realization sunk in that she truly was pregnant, Helene started to wonder who the father of her child was. But it was painfully obvious; her pregnancy had started sometime between the last week of April and the beginning of June, and she only had sex with one person during that span of time.”
A lump formed in Sadiq’s throat that no amount of swallowing could dissolve.
“W-Why… why didn’t she try ta call me, or something?!” he demanded angrily, but he was certain inside that the anger was directed more at himself than anyone else. “She shoulda said something!”
Amunet gave him a sharp, reprimanding look, and he instantly sat back down, unaware that he had even stood up. For the first time he noticed that she looked pained, as if dredging up these old stories was hurting her.
“She considered it,” Amunet continued calmly, tracing her thumb over the rim of her teacup. “She even looked you up in the school directory, and picked up the phone to dial your number. But every time it started to ring, she would hang up. Helene was afraid…”
“Afraid?” Herakles echoed softly, his brow furrowed.
“Finding out that she was pregnant changed her. She had been so lost in depression, mourning her mother, but being with child gave her a reason to take care of herself, something to look forward to. It surprised even me, how quickly enamored she became with the idea of maternity. And she was afraid of how the father, you,” she paused to give Sadiq a pointed look, “would react.”
“I wouldn’t… I woulda done the best I could.”
Amunet sighed, “Helene never trusted men. Her father cheated on her mother and left them both when she was young, and she was afraid of the same betrayal. She didn’t want to pressure you into being with her because of a sense of obligation. And worse, she didn’t want you to desert her with the child while she was still pregnant, lest she come to associate him with you after he was born.”
“But tha’s selfish of her!”
Herakles glared at Sadiq, but Amunet agreed, “I know. And she guarded this secret until her death, because she was afraid of being hurt, somehow. She was a very proud woman, but not without insecurities.”
“So,” Herakles finally spoke, “This man is my father?”
Amunet nodded, swallowing the last of the tea in her cup. “Sadiq is your father, Herakles. That is what your mother told me, and so it is what we must hold as truth.”
“So, am I supposed ta take ya out fer ice cream, or something?”
“Actually, I have always wanted a pony…”
Sadiq stopped walking, giving Herakles a look that verged on horrified; the other rolled his eyes, chuckling tensely.
“You’re about twenty years too late to be winning me over, dad.”
“Don’t call me that!”
Both men stood in silence for a moment, before Herakles decided, “Ice cream sounds fine. We need to talk, anyways.”
A few minutes later, after two ice cream cones were procured, Herakles and Sadiq wandered over to the nearby park. The sun was starting to set, and in this chilly weather there was only one family left there. They took seats on the opposite end of the park, and watched the son and father play catch while silently licking, before Sadiq started.
“I know yer not happy about this, and trust me kid, I ain’t either. But it isn’t my fault yer ma didn’t say anything. I woulda done something, okay? I woulda…”
“Hey, look, ya can’t hold it against me cuz I forgot to bring a condom once! If anything… I wouldn’ta minded havin’ a kid, if I’d known… Hell, she didn’t even give me a chance.”
Herakles sighed, lapping up the strawberry ice cream dripping down the cone like a kitten, before looking up. “Relax. No one blames you for anything. And we’re not fighting because of that, anyways.”
“Mhmm. But not because we’re related, so much as that we’re related and hate one another.”
Sadiq paused. “Not ta mention, we’ve fucked.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Herakles shrugged. “Not like we can have children. No harm, no foul.”
“Ya say that, but I bet yer developin’ an Electra complex as we speak.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Herakles said, finishing off his ice cream cone. Sadiq followed suit, and they watched as the family left the park, the son sitting on his father’s shoulders.
“So, what now?”
It was the question that had been on both of their minds. Before it was easy to hate one another, because their personalities clashed so sharply, but now that they knew they were so closely related, part of the same family, even, neither found he could fall back into that old routine.
Time passed, and just as everything else in life the realization that had a few weeks ago been so shocking to Herakles was now an accepted part of his list of truths. There was going to be air to breathe tomorrow, the sky was (mostly) blue, the grass was (mostly) green, and Sadiq Adnan was his father.
It was a Thursday night, and Herakles was collecting his things after a long, tedious day of work. Finding a job as a philosopher was difficult, to say the least, so he occupied his time and made a living working for the local library, reshelving materials and dealing with customers. (He had even spent a day working at the children’s’ room desk, but that was not meant for him.) And now the library was closing, not a moment too soon.
Rolling his shoulders, he waved at Antonio when the real children’s librarian wished him a good night and headed out into the cool summer night’s breeze. Destination in mind, he lazily made his way to a café a few blocks up from the library… and a few blocks down from the dormitory of his old university.
“About time ya got here.” Sadiq snorted, waving him down from the corner table he was sitting at. Herakles slid into the sit facing his, and grabbed one of the napkins on the table, playing with it in his fingers.
“I’m sorry that some of us have actual jobs,” he quipped.
“Ya know full and well I have a job, brat.”
“So… how was work today?”
And even though it was a fairly standard question, the tense quality to Sadiq’s tone told Herakles that he was trying, at least. Perhaps he would forgive him asking it again today, too.
“Good. A man came in and seemed lost as he weaved through the shelves. I had to offer my help four times before he confessed he needed a book about sexually transmitted diseases.”
Sadiq laughed, and even Herakles smiled as he took a sip of the drink the other had ordered for him. If someone was to have told him three months that he was going to be enjoying a coffee with Sadiq in a café and having a decent time, he might have scoffed at them.
When his laughter died down, Sadiq sat up a little straighter in his seat, leaning in almost as if he was going to whisper something devious…
“Yer… ah, you are doin’ okay, right? Cuz… yeah. I know it pro’ally doesn’t mean much now, but if you need my help fer anything…”
But he would have scoffed even harder, in complete disbelief, if anyone was to tell him that other than passing along decent genes (because at least now Herakles knew he would look 30 when he was actually 45), Sadiq could actually be a good father.
As it turned out, though, he could be a good father. He was a good father.
He was the father Herakles had never had.
A/N: What is proper kink meme etiquette, anyways? How long is one supposed to wait before de-anoning? I'm rather fond of this fic, even with the highly controversial content, so I'm only like 35% ashamed to admit to having written it XD
I hope you enjoyed!