As If on Purpose

”Don’t you see that this is a bad idea?” Mr. Way yells at the top of his lungs. His question – or demand, perhaps – is directed to the man at the other end of the long table, whom is simply leaning back in his luxurious chair. A small frown is on this man’s face, but for Mr. Way, it is too small to spot from such a great distance.
“It would kill billions of people! Just one of your aircrafts could kill millions! It’s hazardous, Mr. Iero!” Mr. Way threads his hands through his black, murky hair and tugs slightly. Frustration is written all over his face and could easily be spotted from one of the potentially lethal jets Mr. Iero is planning on ‘protecting his country’ with in the near future.

“It will only be hazardous if it should crash or otherwise be damaged during flight,” Mr. Iero answers calmly and rationally, as if there is no fear, worry or doubt in his mind at all.
“I can guarantee that my jets will stay in the air during flight.” Mr. Iero suddenly breaks his calm exterior and gets to his feet – letting the comfortable chair roll away behind him. He leans forward – his knuckles firmly planted on the table – and gets a few centimeters closer to the man at the other end of the three meter table.
“Can you?” There’s a viciousness in his voice that is heard by everyone in the room – the secretaries, the assistances, the citators. It is heard by everyone except for the man who’s attempting to play the hero – the good guy – in this scenario, but only manages to appear as the cruel dictator he really is.

“This is not a matter of guns, Mr. Iero.” Mr. Way is now the one to take the position of the arrogant and calm man in the room, and slowly takes his seat in the soft chair behind him.
“Let us not get personal.” He leans back and settles his elbows on the armrests as threads his fingers until his palms, together, form a cave.
Mr. Iero scowls at the cocky figure.

“You just made it personal, Mr. Way.” The resentment in his voice is enough to scare the witnesses in the room, but it is also enough for Mr. Way to understand that it was a sincere and serious remark.
He turns his attention to the spectators.

“Leave,” he says briefly through his teeth and fights vigorously to keep the snarl away from his tone of voice and maintain his own professionalism.
The people who work for him quickly turn and walk out, while Mr. Iero’s people hesitate.
With one nod – one brief, simple movement of Mr. Iero’s head – the rest of the people leave the two leaders in the big conference room on the top floor.
When the door falls shut, Mr. Iero lifts his knuckles off the table and instead places them on his hips.

“My jets are not lethal.” Mr. Iero steps away from the table and walks towards the big window behind Mr. Way. He stops near the clear glass and looks out. He sees the town laid out before his feet – small buildings looking even smaller from such a great height. He wishes he could own this town. He wishes he could own every town, not only in this country, but in the world.

“I know,” Mr. Way says knowingly and draws Mr. Iero’s attention to him. They look at each other, still with the same amount of frustration and passionate hate burning in their eyes.
“But your love is.” The tone is still calm. The eyes are still burning. But the mouth – the mouth forms into a soft smile that for just one moment in time makes every horrendous thing disappear.

At least from their eyes.

Frank wastes no time in removing his fisted hands from his hips and instead softly cup Gerard’s jaw. He connects their lips like they’ve connected so many times before, and once again their eyes slide shut as if on purpose.
They’re no longer strangers, gathered in the same room.
They’re no longer leaders, fighting in the same war.
They’re no longer surrounded by petrified gazes.
They’re lovers, leeches and liars.
Their lips stay connected as Frank moves to sit down on Gerard’s lap. Their hands roam each other’s bodies longingly – desperately – and pop open buttons in order to get closer.
Their skin in tickling and prickling with frustration and excitement, and when they touch each other’s bare chests, little sparks nibble at their fingertips from the negative meeting the positive.
They push off each other’s jackets and shirts. They rip off each other’s ties and mess up each other’s hair.
They connect deeper when Gerard pulls Frank in close and presses their chests together. Their bare skin brush roughly against skin and the sensation makes them both gasp into the heated kiss – a kiss that has so far only involved their yearning lips.

Frank is the one to take it a step further.

Their tongues crash together, sending a jolt through both of their bodies. Gerard’s hips jerk up off the relaxing seat and almost cause Frank to fall off his lap and onto the floor. Yet, instead of falling, Frank decides to get to his feet.
Gerard stares in desire – no fear or insecurity ever rushing through his veins – while Frank quickly opens his belt and let his pants drop to the carpeted floor with a thud.
Gerard’s stare lowers. While it was earlier on Frank’s naked chest, it is now on Frank’s bare erection – saluting him proudly.
Frank wastes no time, before he jumps onto the conference table in front of Gerard – his naked butt leaving a humid imprint on the dark wood when he lies back on his elbows.
Gerard swallows – not because of nerves, but because of the pure perfection that is lying before him.
While still seated in his chair – leaned back to enjoy his view – he opens his belt and zipper. He only stands to take them off along with his underwear, which he postpones as long as possible in fear of his knees giving in.
When he finally stands, they do.
He topples forward and is only saved by Frank’s protective hands pressing against his chest.
They both laugh softly, before Gerard leans down and kisses Frank’s swollen lips briefly and then standing up straight. He tugs down his pants until they’re around his ankles. He struggles to take off his shoes, but Frank grabs his hair and pulls him up.
Gerard stares into Frank’s eyes – there being no other place to look, since they’re taking up all of his view.

But not for long.

Frank bolts his head forwards and connects their lips with such force that Gerard fails to gasp in content. Their lips barely move as Frank leans back on the table and pulls Gerard onto the table on top of him. Their bodies press against each other as sweat breaks free from their heated skin.
When their bodies are damp and lustrous, it takes no effort for Frank to lift his legs and for Gerard to slide in between them. Their joined sweat creates enough lubrication for Gerard’s member to slide into Frank without much force.

They both gasp.

Gerard starts thrusting and Frank suppresses the first moan. The second is harder to suppress. The third is impossible.
Soon their hips starts moving together in thrusts and their moans join in the heavy, hot and humid air around them. In attempt to silence each other, they kiss, but this only causes them both to moan louder into each other’s welcoming mouths.
The thrusts, the moans, the vibrations, the moist, the sweat, the heat – it all bottles up in and on them both and they release in a pure bliss with the knowledge that all loads will be lifted off of them.
And as they release – each body moving in synchronization with other – they truly have no worries, burdens, duties or blames on their shoulders to carry. Everything bad, heavy and remorseful has been lifted off their shoulders and replaced by the ultimate moment in time – together.

But it only lasts for so long.

Soon, they will put their clothes back on.
Soon, they will start arguing again.
Soon, their only purpose in life will be to own everything and attack anything in their way of gaining the ultimate power – the world.

Love cannot stop war, nor can war stop love.