"Achill-" Patroclus was lost for words at the sight before him.
"Either say something or get out of my way, this apodesmos is killing my ribs," as Patroclus moved to the side, Achilles pushed through to his rooms, Patroclus following, curious as to why his beloved was in a pink floor-length toga especially for women.
"Ouch! Zeus' balls!" Achilles swore as he ripped a too-long nail on a snag in the fabric of the breast cloth, "What are you smirking at, you long-haired wine wench?!"
"Wine wench? You're the one in the dress!" Patroclus chuckled.
"Oh, if only I had a sword and was out of this MONSTROSITY!" Achilles lunged at his lover in anger, but stopped short when the breast-band bit into his side. He moaned, taking deep breaths, face flushed from the lack of air.
As he stood gasping, Patroclus watched him. Every time Achilles struggled for a breath, the fabric of the pink dress pulled tight over his ribs and chest, outlining the two tiny hills of flesh on Achilles' chest that Patroclus loved so much, and Patroclus felt his blood begin to stir. And when Achilles was angry or upset, it made it all the worse.
"Here, let my try," Patroclus stepped up behind him, schooling his voice to stay as it was.
"Ouch! Don't step on it! Gods, I just want out!" he pleaded, eyes tilted upward.
"I'll get you out, it'll be just fine. Just take some deep breaths."
"That's the point, Patroclus! I can't! I can't breathe, or move-"
"Okay, I got the pin undone, let the dress pool at your waist. Now how- All right. 'Killes, Sweetheart, this breast-band is pulled really tight. I just need you to let go for a minute, let your body go loose, okay?" Achilles moaned in despair, "You will be fine, I promise you. There, got it!"
"Oh, thank the gods..." Achilles sighed in relief.
"Yes, thank the gods that you are here with me," Patroclus kissed him on the lips, surprising his object of attention.
"Patro-"
"Shh... It's all right..." even as he kissed him, Patroclus slipped the sleeves of the dress back up his shoulders.
"No-" as Patroclus laid him back on the bed.
"Shh... No breast-band, see?" he held said piece of cloth in his free hand, the other cradling Achilles' head where it rested on the pillow.
"How-?" Patroclus grinned into the kiss.
"I have my ways. Now, relax. I missed you."
Achilles began to return the kisses, "I missed you too..."
"Then let me do this, all right? I know you need this as much as I do."
"All right."
"Sas efcharistó. Thank you," with that allowance, he began to kiss and suck on his beloved's collarbone where it peeked from just above the dress, his hands working up under the long skirt and caressing the flat, hard plains of a cherished stomach.
"Oh please..." Achilles began to beg as Patroclus' hands traveled up and down his stomach, "Ohhhh..."
"Please what, Beloved? Stop? Please stop?" Patroclus teased.
"If you stop, I will have your piece removed from your body and on a silver platter in two seconds flat!" Achilles yelled.
"All right, all right, calm. Deep breaths..." Patroclus rubbed circles on the expanse of skin, "Good girl..." he easily ducked the fist that aimed for his head.
"I swear to Zeus-!" Patroclus just ran the pads of his fingers along the grooves and dips of a soft four-pack and the man underneath him went silent for a moment, and then let out a drawn-out moan.
"Good girl..." Patroclus hushed against the delicate shell of his lover's ear.
"'m a good girl?" the words were slurred, as if with sleep or drink.
"Yes, a very good girl. You're my good girl, aren't you? Yes you are," Patroclus bent his head to take a darkening nipple into his mouth, after slipping the dress' sleeve down just the slightest bit, getting a stalled gasp in response.
"Please... Lower, go lower..."
"As you wish, my dainty little darling," Patroclus released the object of sweet torture from his mouth and settled lower on the bed, ducking under the gown's expansive skirt, which covered the bed's width from end-to-end.
"Patroclus, what-?" raising his head just a bit from the pillows, Achilles watched as Patroclus' arm came from his hiding place, triumphantly holding Achilles' subligaculum in his fist, "Ahh! No, don't- Oh, Eros, yes! Yes, yes, yes!" as Patroclus took his lover into his mouth, "More, I want more!" Achilles began to sob, tears running across his temples and down onto the pillows. His hands found Patroclus' head through the silky fabric of the frock, trying to push him lower. When his hands could find no purchase on the slippery fabric, he bunched the dress over his lover's head and against his own stomach. Bringing his head up a few inches from where it lay for leverage, he tried to push Patroclus' head lower, his fingers gripping the long, light brown curls and his fingernails scraping against the man's scalp, "Lower, damn you! Please, I need you!" he called, losing his strength and falling back onto the pillows in defeat. Patroclus released him, but did not reveal himself. Suddenly, Achilles felt a tingling sensation shoot along his spine, "Yes! Enter me! Make me your temple! I am your offering!" he encouraged, no longer aware of himself or his then, Patroclus did as he wanted, but in a wholly unexpected way. Not that Achilles would complain.
They had found long ago through exploration that Achilles' bundle of sacred nerves that were nestled inside his body was rather low, making him easy to please. Patroclus often took advantage of this knowledge, just as he was doing now.
Patroclus knew by the tightening and relaxing of his thighs that his lover was close to the end. He could hear the pained mewls coming from the man above him and he didn't have to think hard in order to see his face in his mind's eye; scrunched nose, eyes shut tight. Then came the telltale shout and an odd ripping of fabric before Achilles relaxed completely, boneless and spent.
"That's my sweet Achilles," Patroclus emerged from his hiding place with a smile, stroking the blond hair and cooing.
"'u 'ined m' 'ess..." Achilles slurred, his meaning not even clear to his own ears.
"It'll wash. Want to come out of it? Oh yes," Achilles was a rag doll, and his head and chest flopped backward when Patroclus took him from the pillows, "Oops, Sweetheart, lay on my chest. That's it. Whoops, you tore the skirt."
"'u 'ade m' do 't..."
"We'll get it fixed I promise. There. Rest Sweetheart. That's it. Good night, my beautiful maiden," Patroclus grinned as Achilles scowled, eyes already closed and half asleep.
Translations:
Sas efcharistó = Thank you (Greek)
AN: So this idea as from forever ago. It was just itching to get out, so I wrote it for myself, and now I'm posting it here.
A little explanation: In the myth, Achilles went to Skyros at his mother's insistance, as she thought it would keep him away from the war. While there, he crossdressed to be seen as one of the king's daughters. At least, I think that's how the story goes. Correct me if I'm wrong!
Also, an apodesmos was a bra of sorts that ancient women would wear. On that same note, a subligaculum was a kind of underwear. The apodesmos was Greek, while the subligaculum was Roman.