The Bellydancer and the Cat

Heracles creaked open the door of Sadik’s huge house, the thick, ornately carved wooden door creaking deeply on it’s enormous iron hinges. As he slipped inside he was immediately hit by a wave of sweet-smelling smoke, a mingling of incense and spices and musky perfumes. He felt dizzy from it as he searched through the house for his friend. The dark wooden archways curved like a dancer’s hips, leading him further through the house, the floor covered with pillows and fine Oriental rugs. He was starting to feel light-headed and sat down on a pile of cushions and rugs to rest his eyes for just a little while. He was just so very sleepy.
Opening his eyes blearily, Heracles didn’t know how long he had been asleep for. He started to refocus his vision, but his eyes were so heavy. He could dimly make out a figure standing near him: black as night was the beautiful fabric that clung to every curve, caressing strong thighs with hips exposed, jutting sharply from olive coloured skin. As his gaze traveled higher, he could make out a taught stomach and dusky nipples, the smooth line of the throat and sharp jaw, dusted with stubble. Finally, his gaze came to rest on the face, thin sensual lips curved into a slight smile below those dark emerald shard-eyes hidden behind a white mask. It was Sadik.
“Did you rest well?” He questioned, Heracles didn’t answer, mind still fuzzy from all of the heavy exotic scents, body completely relaxed and content. Sadik stepped away from him and he gradually heard low soothing drums, joined soon by the twanging of a guitar. The figure of Sadik started to sway and move and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the dance before him. He saw that lithe slim body twist and curve to the rhythm and all he could do was prop himself up on his elbows, still sinking into the pillows, and watch helplessly as his childhood friend and lover turned away from him and slowly bent back on his knees until his shoulder blades were touching the hard tile floor, hips pushed off of the ground.
Those entrancing green eyes were boring into his own, as one hand reached up to remove the pristine white mask from that angelic face, holding it in one hand while those lips drew into a perfect cupid’s bow smile. The music played on as Sadik rose just as gracefully as he had gone down onto the floor and tossed his mask to one side of the Greek, hearing it land with a soft whisper among the pillows. He knelt down between Heracles’ legs and leaned in close, whispering huskily,
“Did that excite you?” The Turk slid a hand along the front of Heracles’ trousers and narrowed his eyes. The Greek flinched under the gentle touch and drew his knees together sharply.
“It certainly seems like it. You couldn’t take your eyes off of me the entire time. Was it that arousing?” Sadik teased. Heracles blushed. He couldn’t deny that seeing his friend move in such a sensual way wasn’t arousing, but it seemed he was more turned on than he was willing to admit. Sadik clicked his tongue and trailed his fingers underneath the Greek’s shirt, fingertips ghosting across the smooth plane of his stomach, sliding up to run across honey-coloured nipples. Heracles let out a small cry.
“Ah! Sadik, stop!” His eyes shot open, a hand gripping the Turk’s wrist, wriggling inside his shirt. Sadik’s eyes took on a devilishly concerned look, his lips pouting slightly.
“Is it not good?” He questioned, that same hand sliding down across Heracles’ stomach down to the top of his pants, “Then what about here?” His thumb brushed roughly over the covered hardness in the Greek’s pants. He let out a yelp and tried to bite back a groan. Sadik smiled and caressed the front of Heracles’ pants with his open palm, increasing the pressure and the frequency of the Greek’s moans. Rising to his knees Sadik slid the plain white shirt over Heracles’ head, finally able to take in the full view of that sculpted chest, the muscles rippling over those strong arms as the Greek moved to cover himself.
“Oh, come now, now we’re exactly the same.” He soothed, eyes drifting dangerously to the Greek’s pants. Heracles gave a start and began trying to twist away from the Turk’s searching fingers, but to no avail, pants and boxers went flying, leaving the flustered Greek’s sculpted body draped luxuriously over the beautifully decorated pillows, finally able to feel the expensive fabrics against his flushed skin. Sadik smiled genuinely this time and gripped Heracles’ wrists guiding him towards the top of the low fitting garment that the Turk wore, sliding the fabric over the curve of his ass, letting it whisper across his thighs to pool around his knees. Wiggling out of it, Sadik brushed it aside and gripped Heracles’ length in his fist, bringing their weeping cocks together, sliding his hand along tightly, feeling the sensuous press of skin on skin.
The Greek threw his head back against the soft pillows with a thud and arched his back. He had forgotten how good this felt, to be stroked by a hand that wasn’t his own. He clenched the silky fabric between his fingers and let out a relaxed moan. Sadik smiled and pumped them both in his hand again, making even himself let out a soft sigh of pleasure. But he knew that something better was yet to come. Releasing them from his strong grip. He slid his hands along those dark creamy thighs, letting them finally come to rest behind Heracles’ thighs.
The Turk flashed a sly grin at the Greek and pushed his legs up so that his backside was brought into view. Once again, Heracles blushed and tried to struggle slightly, but all in vain as he turned his head to the side, a gasp filling his mouth like honey as a warm tongue slid along between his cheeks, easily finding that puckered entrance and tickling the skin below his balls. He squirmed with pleasure now, no longer trying to get away from the odd sensations.
That slippery tongue seemed to know every place on his body that made him purr with renewed need, for it was now lapping at his nipples, Sadik seeming like a cat in heat, fingers brushing across tanned hips and the soft expanse of skin at his sides. Heracles closed his eyes in pleasure as that tongue and those hands seemed to lull him back to sleep with each gentle caress.
Finally, Sadik glanced up into the Greek’s face and experimentally slid a slick finger into Heracles’ entrance. He let out a yelp and once again, his back was arching as if someone were scratching it languidly. That slim, long finger searched inside of him for what seemed like ages before another was added and the volume of the Greek’s mewling increased. After sliding two fingers in smoothly, stretching and scissoring, occasionally brushing across that small bundle of nerves that made Heracles beg for more, Sadik gave in to his own desires and positioned himself at Heracles’ entrance.
That first push inside felt as if both of their bodies were bathed in fire. The all engulfing heat from Heracles’ body made Sadik feel like he would melt if he stayed inside much longer. Heracles body was on fire both from pain and pleasure, but the pain soon burned off and was transformed into sweet ecstasy as the Turk gripped his shaft hard in those long slim fingers. The sweat began to gather between Heracles’ shoulder blades and run down his back onto the expensive fabrics as his body was lifted, legs draped over Sadik’s elbows, the depth increased, the pressure building between them. From this angle, the Greek could get a perfect view of Sadik, his face contorted in pleasure, sweat like diamonds beading on his brow, on his chest, that stern look of concentration, the muscles of his stomach stretching and flexing underneath that dark skin as he thrust deeper and deeper inside of Heracles, making him cry out, eyes squeezed shut from pleasure.
All of a sudden, Sadik let loose a cry and pressed his body rigid against Heracles’ hips. Feeling his release sent a shudder through the Greek’s body, with that hand pumping him so hard, it was no use holding back as Heracles spilled his seed across the Turk’s hand, feeling it drip onto his stomach. He was still being supported on one knee by Sadik who released the other to lick the cooling essence from his fingers, never taking his gaze from Heracles’. The Greek blushed at such an erotic thing and looked away sheepishly. Sadik just smiled and released Heracles’ other leg, watching as he once again lay spent and weak against the pillows, cum cooling on his flushed olive skin.
Sadik flopped down beside his lover and propped himself up on one elbow, gazing at the sleeping figure of Heracles, that smooth chest rising and falling with each deep breath, simply beautiful. As he was drifting off to sleep with his lover, the Turk wondered if he could get Heracles to come over more often. After all, he could use more dance practice…