well chat heres the self proclaimed gay ass story
The two of them sat in the royal bathhouse, steam curling around them as Stagros, his voice low and intense, described the distant conflict. 'The frontlines are shifting rapidly,' he said, his fingers tapping the stone bench. 'They’ve established a strong defensive perimeter along the river, but the enemy’s using guerrilla tactics, disrupting supply lines. Our forces are spread thin, caught in a brutal war of attrition. It’s not just the battles; the sieges have been relentless, and morale is beginning to crack
Arbor raised an eyebrow, his expression bemused. 'Is the god of War worried?' he asked, his tone both curious and mocking. 'Aren’t you the one who’s always ready to plunge into the fray, Stagros? You’ve seen bloodshed and chaos, yet now you speak of morale cracking?
Stagros let out a short, bitter laugh, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back against the warm stone wall. "It's not about fear, Arbor. It’s about the cost. Battles can be won, but at what price? The longer this drags on, the more we lose—not just men, but the will to fight. The frontlines are slipping from our grasp, and now even the generals are pulling back, uncertain of the next move."
Arbor studied him, his eyes softening. "And yet, you remain steadfast. Why? What’s keeping you in the fight, Stagros?"
Stagros shifted, his gaze locking with Arbor’s for a moment longer than necessary. "Because I have to." His voice dropped, the words laced with something more than military strategy. "Someone has to hold the line, Arbor. If I falter, who will protect the ones who follow?"
Arbor’s lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words hung in the air, suspended by the tension between them. He waved his hand "You always talk of protecting others, Stagros, but what about yourself? Who will hold the line for you?"
Stagros stiffened at Arbor’s words, his breath catching for a brief moment. He turned his head slightly, "I’ve never needed anyone to hold the line for me," he replied, his voice gruff but the flicker of vulnerability unmistakable. "I’ve always stood alone in the heat of battle, and I’ll continue to do so."
Arbor stood, "But you don’t have to stand alone, Stagros. Not in this."
Stagros met Arbor’s gaze, his chest tightening as he felt the pull of something he’d tried so hard to ignore. "You speak as if I’ve ever had a choice," Stagros muttered, his voice softer now, laced with something raw.
Arbor’s eyes softened, his fingertips brushing against the stone of the wall beside Stagros. "Maybe it's time you had one," he said, his
tone not quite daring to be a challenge but laced with something far more dangerous—a desire to close the distance between them.
Stagros' pulse quickened as Arbor’s fingers brushed against the stone behind him. The warmth between them seemed to intensify, the space narrowing until it felt as though nothing else in the world existed but the two of them, caught in the heavy silence.
Stagros’ breath hitched, his thoughts scattered,.
He looked down, as if the stone bench beneath him could offer some solace from the tension building in the air. "I don’t need this," he muttered, more to himself than to Arbor, "This… whatever this is."
Arbor was quiet for a long moment, but when he spoke, it was with quiet resolve, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of something undeniable. "No one needs it, Stagros. But that doesn’t make it any less nice."
The words hung between them like a challenge, and before Stagros could respond, Arbor took a slow step forward. His hand rested lightly on Stagros' shoulder, he warmth of it, the pressure of it, sent a jolt through Stagros, a sharp, unfamiliar ache that twisted in his chest.
And yet, Stagros closed the distance, his lips brushing against Arbor’s in a brief kiss. Stagros froze, caught off guard by the softness, the gentleness of it. The kiss deepened, just a little, as Arbor’s hand found its way to the back of Stagros’ neck, pulling him slightly closer For a moment, the world outside the bathhouse seemed to vanish entirely, leaving only the two of them in the steam-filled silence.
When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing harder than before, the heat of the bathhouse now matched by the heat between them. Stagros’ eyes darted to the floor, and then back to Arbor’s face, but neither of them spoke. Neither of
They stood there for a moment longer, neither of them willing to break the silence.
Finally, Stagros sighed, the weight of everything pulling at him again. "The war’s still out there," he said, his voice distant now, retreating into the familiar rhythms of command.
Arbor gave him a half-smile, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "I guess it is," he said, and with that, the moment passed, and the distance between them widened.
