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Builderman was not a man of many words; he always thought carefully about when and what to say.
And Telamon-or should I say, Shedletsky-also gave things a lot of thought, but he had many more words to express himself. Telamon felt different. And Builderman found it curious, because when the cowl settled over his face and he became the Administrator of the Heights, he was more serious, arrogant, almost rebellious. He seemed like a different person entirely.
In a way, he would change, and the sword became his method of solving problems. Somehow, he started doing things on his own, ignoring protocols and accepted orders.
Builderman allowed him, up to a certain point, the freedom to "do things his way," even if that implied little preparation and a counterproductive outcome. Builderman had always said it was because "he couldn't stop him," but there was something more to it.
There was affection, love, and curiosity regarding his actions.
It wasn't until Builderman had the chance to see his other facet that he realized it was just a façade of who he truly was.
Shedletsky, despite smiling with the same proud look, despite looking at Builderman with those same playful eyes, seemed like someone else. He was just as sarcastic and mocking, but the way he spoke, expressed himself, and communicated things was different. He was more cautious. Calm? Perhaps. At least, Builderman felt that way.
He found this duality marvelous, because he could be both at once, and because both versions never stopped being him.
And when complaints arrived, they even seemed to be directed at different people when referring to Telamon and Shedletsky. This amused Builderman, who, like most, knew the truth. But the sheer contrast in his personality was so great that it naturally caused confusion.
He found it even more incredible when he realized the same contrast existed during sex.
One side was too chaotic, the other was too gentle.
And that contrast existed simply because Shedletsky wanted to give his avatar a distinct personality. Builderman liked it because it was exceptional-it was different and strange.
A strangeness that drew him in.
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The apartment was already silent; it was late. Both were going through their nightly routine, preparing for bed. Only the vanity lamps were on, one on each side of the bed.
Builderman was reading, wearing just one of his red sweaters, specifically a wine-red one. Everything was proceeding normally, but something felt strange. He looked over at Shedletsky, who had been looking at himself in the bedroom's bathroom mirror for a while. Builderman diverted his gaze from his book in that direction.
"What are you thinking?" And it seemed he had pulled him from his thoughts, because he saw his wings flutter slightly.
"Nothing."
It went without saying that Builderman knew he was lying. He frowned and returned to his reading. Shedletsky, for his part, came out of the bathroom and started heading for the bed.
Builderman thought he was heading to his side of the mattress, but instead, he watched as Shedletsky positioned himself between his legs and rested his head in his lap. Shedletsky ran his hands over his waist, settling down to end up lying on top of the other man.
Builderman didn't press him. Instead, he held his book with one hand and used the other to gently stroke the scalp of the one who was still deep in thought.
Minutes passed in silence and tranquility, as on most nights. He felt Shedletsky's body rise and fall calmly. And he genuinely thought he was going to fall asleep on him, but instead, the other proceeded to release what he had been holding back.
"Have you ever wondered what the Robloxianos think of you?"
Builderman, finally getting the answer he was looking for, stopped reading the book in his hands to focus on the man who was looking thoughtfully toward the side of the room.
"Many times," he closed the book and set it down along with his reading glasses on one of the bedside tables. "We become recognized figures, and therefore, we are also public figures."
Shedletsky, surprisingly, didn't utter a word. Instead, the room remained silent while Builderman touched his curls and wrapped them around his fingers. After a while, sensing that the conversation might stall and be lost, Builderman tried to ask a question to keep it going and resolve the doubts tormenting the other.
"What's on your mind?"
The response wasn't immediate. Instead of giving a verbal answer, Shedletsky turned his head slightly to look up at him. Builderman looked back into his amber eyes, the ones few knew as intimately as he did.
"Do I scare them?"
Builderman continued running his fingers through his locks, absorbed in the moment where the powerful Telamon was just a man-one who, even with a divine power, still retained his human side. He found the way this situation arose endearing.
"Why do you ask?" The gray-skinned man cupped his cheek in his hand, and Shedletsky didn't want to talk, having slightly averted his furrowed gaze.
But they had had much more intimate moments, much deeper conversations, in this very bed, with the same level of trust, that he no longer hesitated, knowing there was no reason to feel ashamed.
I don't know what they think when they see me," he confessed.
Builderman, surprised by the subject at hand, widened his eyes, just slightly. And in a fraction of a second, so many thoughts rushed to him that he wished to release, so many arguments to show him the confidence in his image, in himself, in his work as an administrator.
But instead, he took it slow.
Builderman let out a slight snort mixed with a laugh.
At this, the winged one shrunk the wings on his head out of the slight irritation that gesture gave him.
"What are you laughing at?" he looked at him with a frown.
"Are you really asking that, my dear Telamon?" emphasizing his name while taking him by the chin was how he managed to calm those expressive wings again. "Where should I begin..." Telamon blushed faintly at the act, but waited for his answer.
"If you don't convince me, I'll go to your complaint board myself to find out what they think." Builderman smiled at his comment and proceeded to speak to him sincerely.
"The main thing I've read is that they love your sword skills. They say you are an example to follow. Some others say you’re a bit scary, but your jokes and sense of humor make you seem approachable," while mentioning the words, he never stopped looking into his eyes, at his face, waiting for that blush that soon appeared on his skin. "They say you have very beautiful wings, and a commanding tunic," he emphasized while taking one of the head-wings in his hand and stroking it.
Shedletsky let out a contented snort, loving the sensation of the touch and unconsciously leaning into it, but still paying attention to the man who was doing everything to cheer him up.
"And you don't know the amount of letters that arrive, and their only written desire is to see your face. Hidden beneath a shadow that few can remove." At this point, Shedletsky had already sat up, and Builderman had moved close enough to see his eyelashes. Close enough to lean into his ear and whisper a few words that planted the possessiveness that few saw behind a skeptical Builderman, but which was there when it came to Shedletsky. "Too bad I have the privilege of seeing you," he whispered in a way that made the other shudder, "and in so many ways... I seem more than fortunate."
And he took advantage of their closeness to begin kissing his neck and ear, leading this to a different atmosphere, one that screamed lust, and which he knew Shedletsky would accept.
Builderman knew well what weakened him, and his compliments had always made his head spin.
Shedletsky, just as the grayish-skinned man expected, leaned in slightly to let Builderman kiss his neck a little more. It wasn't until he felt the bites begin to escalate that he slightly pushed him away so he was leaning back against the headboard of the bed again.
"So, in short?" he asked while positioning himself on the other's lap, bringing their waists together.
Builderman, at the sudden push, looked into his eyes, and the slight shadow they cast, combined with the mischievous look he was giving, reminded him of when that same face was hidden under that fabric mantle.
He felt his skin tingle.
He knew what he wanted, for he knew that the god on top of him, with or without the tunic, was demanding.
"Some mention that you are incredible, talented..." he leaned towards his neck again, to continue with what he had left pending. "Exceptional..."
"Keep going..." he spoke, but more than speaking, he ordered. It was what he desired, what he wanted to hear, and only that. Builderman, ever compliant with his whims, granted it.
"Strong, intelligent, creative..." each word was punctuated by a strong hickey, making the other gasp from the sensitive skin being abused. Craving more, he tilted his head, giving the other even more space for his teeth to mark. "Witty, attractive..." he felt the curly-haired one tighten his legs around him, so his hands went straight to his waist and under his shirt, feeling the skin and squeezing. He continued with the bites until he decided it was enough to pull away. He observed the artwork he had created on his neck, the panting face, his dilated eyes, his silhouette, and pleasure went straight to his stomach. "...Unique," he said after a moment of admiration for the one above him.
Shedletsky rested his hands on the chest still covered by Builderman's characteristic red sweater. Still dizzy, he directed a hand backward, specifically to the back of the other's head, where the bun of hair was still held by the band. Shedletsky took that very band and pulled it so that finally, the grayish, shoulder-length hair was visible.
"I want to see your hair down more often."
"Demanding..." Builderman commented before moving the other's hips forward, determined to put a stop to his willful reclamation, causing their fabrics to rub together, as did their growing erections, which made the winged one gasp suddenly, as he hadn't expected it. "Do I have to remind you who's in charge here, little bird?"
Somehow, that attitude he used as Telamon had escaped, that arrogant way of being that characterized him and which he normally kept separate.
Shedletsky, who was sometimes stubborn and headstrong, just looked at him with a mocking smile, tempting Builderman more than he should. But Builderman loved watching him rise, only to fall even harder, and by his own hand.
"Show me what you can do to me, old man," and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, the one that overflowed Builderman's control.
Telamon, despite being one of the most demanding gods with such a dominant personality, had a small secret: he loved to fall and enjoy the one who granted him that pleasurable, rough fall—the one that forced him to be dominated.
Without words, and with one swift move, Shedletsky was already chest-down against the mattress, his two hands pinned behind him on his back.