The lover of intellect and knowledge ought to explore causes of intelligent nature first of all, and, secondly, of those things which, being moved by others, are compelled to move others.

- Timaeus: "Timaeus" by Plato

"Here we are, teacher."

Timaeus sat on the mattress that lay in Critias' chamber. The tent was simple enough, but the mattress was a luxury that his student was certainly allowed. Two mattresses, and Timaeus would make sure his students-

His friends would have their luxuries, on his word he swore. Never had they seen a battle of this gravity, and he would make sure that they would have minimal scarring of it.

That could not be said of him, he thought, as he gently coaxed his false eye from its socket on the right side of his face, holding it out as an offering to his older student. Territorial, their kind was, and an offering was necessary if they wished to proceed.

He was trying not to cry, shaking as Critias rolled the glass orb between his fingers. The younger knight was letting the pads of his fingers grace the smooth surface of Timaeus' glass eye, watching the older knight.

Critias didn't expect Timaeus' reaction to his request; he definitely did not expect this shaking man in front of him.

"Are you sure, teacher?"

"Yes."

The thought had enticed him since he had seen Timaeus place the false eye into his socket the day after the first battle. To land a blow on Timaeus was unheard of, something that bothered Critias. It made something stir inside of him, made him want to see how much Timaeus could fall apart.

"All right, then." Critias spread his legs, his hand undoing the fastenings of his trousers. His cock was straining against his underclothes, the friction from the fabric urging him to move more slowly. He sighed as the cold air hit him, eyes meeting Timaeus' gaze. He placed the false eye in its holder on the table beside him.

"Stay on the bed, please." He received a nod. Timaeus' single eye held his gaze steadfastly. When the older knight blinked, Critias finally looked downward to the other's crotch.

"You… do respond well to my proposal, my teacher-"

"Nothing of teachers now, Critias." Timaeus smiled at him. Critias saw his right eyelids almost sunken, no longer having the glass eye to support them. "All my life has been education. However, I believe you are my teacher in this aspect."

Critias felt his cheeks grow warm. He turned his face downward.

"Who told you?"

"Hermos." Timaeus let out a laugh, more of an exhale through his nose, to let Critias know he didn't take offense. "It's all right. You two are both young and virile. Just tell me instead of sneaking from training."

"Yes… Timaeus." He heard movement on the bed and saw Timaeus stripping off his shirt. The skin was littered with bruises, skin thankfully unbroken. The bare chest of his teacher, his superior, made his skin rise with gooseflesh and had his breath turn a bit ragged.

"Critias?" He lifted his head to gaze at Timaeus' single eye. It held many questions, ones that Critias had recognized in Hermos' eyes when they had begun their trysts.

"Have you really never been with anyone else, my friend?"

Timaeus shook his head.

"I've only ever held the Charioteer knowledge that our teacher taught us… and then you grew into a man." He smiled and gestured down to himself, bare chest and erection held back by his trousers and underthings. "I'm afraid that as you've gotten older, Critias, I've become the Wild Horse."

Critias felt saliva building in his mouth, prompting him to swallow.

"I'm sorry if I-"

"Don't." Critias' voice was cutting, deliberate. "... You make me the Wild Horse as well, Timaeus."

One blue eye looked at him with a hopeful sort of longing and Critias understood why the other man had been shaking so furiously earlier.

Would the Wild Horse be put down?

Critias stepped forward and stood in front of his friend, placing his hands on the naked shoulders, feeling gooseflesh rise beneath his hands. Timaeus' breathing pattern didn't change, but from how his posture grew stiff, he knew that it was a conscious act. He raised one of his hands from the pale shoulders and leant over to the pillow of his bed, hand going underneath it.

"It will make it easier," he explained, holding up a container of slick. Timaeus reached up to take it, intrigued. Critias knew what Timaeus didn't and Critias knew that his friend would be intrigued. As soldiers, they had only been taught of the mechanics of copulation, the function, and result of it. It was when the Oracle of Philotes explained to the newer students, after Timaeus, of the pleasures that came along with it that it was seen as good outside of its function, its purpose.

"It is smooth," Timaeus noted, some of the slick on his fingers. He looked up to Critias, his hand going close to the other's cock. With a nod from Critias, Timaeus let his fingers dance over the younger warrior's erection, keeping his eye on his student's face.

Critias shivered, his cock throbbing with pleasure. His heart was racing in his chest, picking up speed. He hadn't thought himself so close to orgasm until the shy fingers spread the slick over him. His breath ran ragged, though quiet, as the fingers ran from the tip to the base, wrapping around him as they slid back upward.

"Wait, just-" He hissed as the fingers squeezed a bit too tightly. It drove him closer to the edge of pleasure, his blood pounding in his ears. He heard the whisper of Timaeus apologising to him, his own voice shushing him and telling him it was not his fault.

It was a few moments, filled with only soft gasps from Critias and murmurs of question from Timaeus, until the older knight continued. Gentle movements of Timaeus' claws made their way over the sensitive flesh, playing with the small, tightened flesh at his head.

"It's interesting," Timaeus noted, claw catching on his student's foreskin, the flesh pulled back completely to show the moistening glans. "Why do they leave your skin?"

"Don't know-" Critias let out a gasp, feeling more disheveled as time moved on. "Keep spreading… Timaeus."

The smaller knight obliged him by pulling back his claws and moving downward, holding his cock in a secure grasp. The tightness moved back up and Critias sighed, pleased with a security of the hold on him now.

He pressed his hips forward, trying to coax Timaeus to move a few more times, his hips wanting to roll forwards into the warmth radiating from the hand around him.

"Critias," shook him from arousal and sent a rich, thick wave of euphoria through him. It wasn't enough for an orgasm, but Critias felt as though he would fall soon and attempt to push Timaeus to the mattress, bite the other's neck, mount him-

"Wait," Critias whispered, his voice softer than how Timaeus had ever heard it. The younger knight reached down and pulled his friend's hand away, hissing as the cool air returned to his erection.

Focus on something else!

"Are you alright?" Timaeus looked up at his friend with a concerned eye. His fingers were relaxed, submissive, in Critias' hand.

"Yes. Just, wait a moment." Air was heavy in his lungs, shaking his breaths as they entered his lungs. He tightened his hold on Timaeus' hand. "Do you think you are ready?"

Timaeus blinked up at him, his eye gazing down to their intertwined hands. He nodded slowly, shivered slightly.

Critias nodded down at him, giving him a gentle smile. He raised his other hand to rest on the back of Timaeus' head. Letting go of Timaeus' hand, he pressed his fingers to the other knight's cheek, raising them up to the lax eyelid.

Timaeus seemed to shake beneath his touch as Critias lifted his eyelid, exposing the dark pink muscles of his eye socket. Keeping his gaze locked with Timaeus', he slipped one finger inside, feeling the moist interior.

"Critias."

Timaeus' other eyelid was falling, the knight losing focus.

"How does that feel, Timaeus?" Critias dared to press further in, keeping his thumb on the raised eyelid, its only support. His index finger continued to venture further inside, mapping out every surface. Imagining its texture, Critias listed all of the muscles that lay therein, keeping its touch featherlight.

A groan, a soft dragon's roar, managed to escape Timaeus and Critias smiled as his teacher's cheeks grew red.

"Please, Critias."

The younger knight pulled his finger out and lowered the eyelid.

"Not yet, Teacher."

He pulled both hands away and hurriedly tucked himself back into his trousers and drawers. He turned to Timaeus, whose mouth had fallen open in shock.

"Explain, Critias."

"When this is all over, I will have you, Teacher. In every way." He turned to where he had left the glass eye and handed it back to the elder knight. "Let that be the reason that we win this war."

Timaeus looked to his eye and back up to Critias. There was an emotion that the younger knight could not read, one that twisted his heart.

"Very well."

With that, Timaeus grabbed his articles and left the tent, leaving Critias to wonder if he had made the right decision.