Alessandra knew it was wrong, oh how she knew! She also knew she should not be doing that, she was practically betraying everything she knew: her family, her homeland, her country... Ares, perhaps? No of course not. Ares was a god who had always protected and advised her since her birth. Alessandra could practically see the satisfied expression he would have on his face as he saw the connection between those two warriors finally complete. He had never admitted, but the princess was aware of the admiration the deity had for Achilles.

Alessandra knew it was so wrong, but still continue. Achilles' hot lips left an anthill in contact with hers and his strong, rough hands from all the practice of wielding a sword ran through her hair.

In her defense, Alessandra tried to prevent this from happening. Certainly Achilles would have to walk through his camp with a black eye after the valiant punch the princess had given him. The moment her hand had struck Achilles' eye, he had withdrawn, his hand covering the stinging pain, and then he smiled.

"You can deny as much as you want, but we both know you're fooling yourself." And his lips were on hers again.

His lips were so incredibly warm, and so light, but with a certain amount of pressure to make that experience sweeping. His scent was divine. Oils, sea breeze, a certain woody scent and something especially of him. Alessandra wanted to control herself, she had to control herself, but she couldn't. Achilles bit her bottom lip, a hint of pain that sent an incredibly pleasurable shiver down her spine. Their tongues intertwined, and when she found herself, Alessandra had her hands entangled in the golden threads of Achilles.

So soft…

She prayed to all the gods that no one would find them at that moment. She prayed to the gods to stop the time, and to let her stay there, with her lips attached to the man who had long ago invaded her thoughts.

"Achilles," Alessandra moaned, as kisses and bites descended along her neck, and she opened her mouth slightly to breathe again.

He was hers, and they both knew it. And she belonged to him, and she didn't care.

As she lay there, with her skin brushing against his, Achilles' hot breath in her ear as he bit her lobe, she knew there was no turning back. She would give up everything for him; The war, her country, her homeland... She would destroy the whole world if he asked. The load of feelings that flooded her was so great, so strange and so new. This is what lust, what passion and what... Maybe love felt? If it was, Alessandra wished she would never forget.

She practically listened to the gods laughing in her mind. Not disdain, or contempt, or even unbelief. But happiness, relief and celebration. As if they were celebrating something that was about to happen a long time ago. Something that waited for a long time. Something already predestined by greater forces and that in no way could be avoided.

I'm his, and he's mine, thought the Trojan woman when Achilles slid her clothes down her body, her dress feeling like running water as it snaked out, and her body gleaming in the faint light that came through the trees. Achilles gave her a languid look that started a fire in her veins. I'm his, and he's mine, and nothing else matters.

Achilles' naked body was beautiful. So divinely built. So toned and full of muscles that Alessandra appreciated against the skin of her hands, with rich, healthy golden skin with a thin layer of sweat that also glinted in the light.

When Achilles finally entered Alessandra, there was pain. Alessandra could not say it did not hurt, but she had felt worse pains before. He entered slowly, breaking the barrier that Alessandra had always been told to guard, and gazing into her eyes tenderly. He was looking at her so fondly, with a twinkle of strange emotion in his eyes.

The pain was intense, but when their lips met in a passionate kiss, it was quickly replaced by pleasure. Achilles came in and out of her, in a strong, loving rhythm, whispering how much he admired her, how much he thought of her every day. Whispering that she was a conqueror, that one day Alessandra would conquer the world. Whispering that the gods made her especially for him.

Alessandra opened her eyes, having closed them due to a particularly strong thrust of Achilles' hips.

"Achilles," she sobbed, her vision obscured by the man's golden hair.

Achilles was dangerous and full of wiles with his enemies. He was a loving and loyal son with his mother. He was a playful cousin and listener to Patroclus. Achilles was many things, but he was better with Alessandra. She made him a better man.

There, in the midst of their carnal actions, in the midst of surrendering his soul to hers, he had almost forgotten the war environment they were living. Alessandra groans once more. Achilles, she had said in a husky voice. The Greek man had rolled his eyes, feeling pleasurable shivers coming down his body.

"Say my name again." He said.

Alessandra laughed, panting. Achilles saw the divine expression she had. Her eyes were once more closed, her head tilted back leaving the long, beautiful neck that he had kissed earlier on show. Her mouth was open, and her white teeth came out as she smiled in pleasure. She was so beautiful, and she was all of him.

"Achilles." She groaned, attending to his request. "Achilles."

Achilles' blue eyes rolled back, feeling his body respond to the sound of his name pronounced by that beautiful and passionate woman. He moaned her name as well, digging his fingers into Alessandra's waist when he felt she trembling with a gasp.

Achilles smiled sourly, coming out of her after a languid kiss.

They bathed in the little lagoon, and the air was filled with laughter, with sound of kisses, and splashes of water. Again, dry and clothed, the kisses continued, and the impassioned whispers were endless.

And none of them wanted that moment to end.