GROANING as he felt the familiar shape of his lover sliding between his thighs, Achilles craned his neck, trying to see Patroclus in the dim light streaming between the tent flaps. It was morning, not yet sunrise, and Patroclus was already having his first meal of the day.
“Achilles.” Patroclus wound an arm around his lover’s waist, drawing the young blond man closer. “Will you not fight today?”
“I have given my word.” Achilles’s voice and member hardened, pushing back against Patroclus so their bodies were in undulating rhythm. “I will have no part in this war since I have been wronged.”
“Will you not fight for me?” Patroclus breathed, kissing the crook of Achilles’s neck where he knew it was most sensitive. “Is the taking of your princess more important than fighting shoulder to shoulder with your lover?”
Achilles inhaled deeply, sensing the jealousy rising in Patroclus. He pulled away and turned over, sliding Patroclus’s spear between his thighs again. He caressed Patroclus’s cheek, feeling the dark, smooth hairs that had grown in rough battle. His eyes sought out Patroclus, showing the man what he truly desired.
“It is not a matter of property, Patroclus, but having what is mine.” Achilles pressed a kiss to Patroclus’s lips, drinking in the sweet and bitter nectar of morning. “I must put a stop to Agamemnon taking what is mine, lest he take you as well.”
Achilles could see the realization in Patroclus’s eyes, a light of understanding, and then disbelief knitting his brows.
“You think that Agamemnon would take me next?”
“I would not put it past the brute,” Achilles sighed, pressing their lips together again and this time plundering from Patroclus, his tongue pushing in and entangling, wanting to brand the man with his own scent, and only his. The kiss deepened, lengthening until they were both struggling for breath and taking only from each other, hands clawing desperately to touch and feel more. The thrusts of Patroclus against Achilles made him reach a fevered state, wanting more of their coupling. Achilles gasped for air, his own hips rutting back, his own needy erection rubbing up against Patroclus, leaking a clear sweet water which claimed Patroclus as his. “If I could, I would ask the gods to rid the world of all mankind, so that you only belong to me. Agamemnon and everyone will learn that no one takes what is mine without consequences.”
His words inflamed Patroclus, each thrust heightening his pleasure. There was a final jerk of his body, and Patroclus gave a loud cry as he came, white cum spilling like a waterfall against the rocks of Achilles’s thighs. In turn, Achilles shifted so his own member was now between Patroclus’s legs. He held on to Patroclus, thrusting swiftly and hitting his peak just as his cock head brushed up against Patroclus’s buttocks, his seed marking his lover. The two warriors fell back into sleep, satisfied to lounge with arms and legs tangled around each other as the sun crept into the sky.