Forbidden Gods

IIV. Underneath the Covers

Achilles was angry that he did not know the answer. He was usually stubborn when it came to information. When he entered the tent, Paris could sense he was troubled. "What's wrong?"

Achilles didn't want to talk about it. "He said, he was going to think about it?" Paris had no idea what was wrong with Achilles. He got up and walked towards his friend as far as his rope will take him; which was only two steps, but steps none the less.

Achilles didn't know how long Paris was going to life. He could be killed right now or in a few months. Achilles didn't even know when to say goodbye if the time ever came. The prince's life was out of his hands. Or was it? He took his dagger and slashed off Paris' ropes.

The prince stood puzzled looking at Achilles. Was this a test of some sort? Or a tease? Paris didn't know how to thank him, or to thank him at all. But he knew Achilles would never let him go and drive him to slaughter if he stepped out of the tent. Or will he?

"Your free, go!" Achilles pointed toward the back flap leading towards the dessert and not far, a small village. But Paris didn't know it may or may not be a trick. But he didn't want Achilles to know that he suspected if it was. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to stay here." By the end of that short sentence Paris truly meant it. He didn't want to leave Achilles, not yet. He told this man his dreams, fears, history. And same with Achilles, his panicky short breaths quieted down and smiled of relief.

"We should celebrate your release. I'll be back with wine." Achilles dashed out of the tent. Paris jumped eagerly on the side of the bed. It's been weeks since he last sat on some thing as soft as this. Meanwhile Achilles searched for an unused bottle of wine. Since the men were starting to pack up, any wine bottles or tables were scare.

Back at the tent, Paris took off one of his bracelets. Underneath it laid a white scare across his wrist. Before Helen came, there was so much pressure of measuring up to his eldest brother, Hector.

He barley got any attention from his father. And if he did it would be a slap across the face from something he did wrong, afterwards he would beat out his anger and frustration into the beds of nameless women. It was always the same, his father would tell him to stop acting like a wild child and be more stable like his brother. Have a wife, have a child, grow up, be more involved with politics.

But none of those were in his interest. His father didn't know that he was far too young to take an interest in those things. And if no women would satisfy his relief, he would take the course of pain to distract himself from the world. No one knew, not even Helen.

When he heard Achilles steps towards the tent, he quickly slipped on his bracelet. The war hero held two bottles in his hand. Paris' eyes lit up with thirst. Achilles sat next to Paris and began opening the 1st bottle. "What made you free me?" Achilles didn't want Paris to know that Menelaus wanted him dead for good. So he just shrugged the answer no. They both drank a bottle and half until a cry for Achilles came outside the tent. "Stay here." Achilles ordered and Paris did.

He came out a little loose footed from the heavy wine. The voice was Menelaus. "What makes you want to take that little bastard with you!?" he whispered not wanting other ears to listen. Achilles thought for a moment. "I have no servants at my home and thought, with all this popularity; I should start acting like the warrior all believe I am. So basically I need to start up my numbers of slaves." Menelaus tried to look into Achilles' tent, but the warrior leaned in front of his every move to block his glances. Until he was satisfied he left the warrior.

Achilles had no idea that it was already evening. It wasn't the sun the told him, but the activity stirring in the camp. Camp fires were made and conversations were heard from all over. Soon the women will be out and drinking will presume from last night.

When he entered his tent, Paris sat where he was before he left. He felt guilty not to tell his friend of the danger that lurks to harm his friend's life. "If you are going to leave, you better leave now. The soldiers are or will be drunk soon." Paris laughed then Achilles joined. "No, I told you I want to stay. At least for one solid day, and the morning of the next hasn't come yet."

"But." Achilles controlled his laughter. "Where will you sleep for the night? I can understand you are tired of the floor, but I don't have an extra bed for you, much less a chair." Paris looked at Achilles with a yearning of something. He didn't know if it might be him really or the wine that spoke. "Then, maybe there is a solution of me having your bed." Achilles was getting nervous. Strong he may be in the battle field or with anyone else in another matter. But, it was Paris who was the master and dominate one in seduction and bedding. "Hehe, think before you speak Paris, don't you think it crowded?" A warm urge began below his hips and he soon harden as Paris leaned over him. The prince kept deep eye contact as he reached for the second bottle. "No." As he withdrew himself, he wished he would have savored the touch of them two more. Achilles laid his hands over his groin that soon was hoisting out and very noticeably.

Achilles trembled like a filly every now and then and it wasn't even cold. He was, nervous. He couldn't believe it, that he was shaking in front of another! Had Paris think him weak now? No, he can't have that. Never anyone thought that of him, and it certainly won't start now. But what was he going to do to change this course?

Should he kiss him? He has always wanted to touch the prince, ever since he saw him standing afraid and sweating in the middle of his tent. And when he pinned him down from escaping, it was him that had trouble to breath. Also, he had to get off of the prince quickly, unless Paris would know his growing intentions under his tunic. However, Achilles would never get the years of experience like Paris does. Paris was known to seduce any one, and would fuck anything with legs.

Paris could tell Achilles was fighting something in his head, and his focus wasn't here. He also noticed the reason why he was shaking so by the bundle that he tries to cover. Paris only silently smiled then began his craft. "Cold night for this season, right?" he asked so innocently.

Achilles was dumbstruck. "Yeh, uh, it is cold.....specially....ahhh?....this season, I mean" He began babbling of things that had no relation to the cold night. But it wasn't cold for him, it was hot. So hot that he began sweating underneath it all. Paris gently, yet swift and sly, turned his chin towards him and sucked Achilles lips for a brief moment. Achilles froze and a tingle shocked through his body and ended in his cock where it made it harder. When Paris slowly reared away he slightly pulled apart Achilles thighs, making an opening for him to lie himself on top of him. One of his legs was on the other side of the bed and the other dangled over the edge they sat on. Paris reclined himself frontward on Achilles' chest. Achilles always carried a dagger at his side at night, but tonight Paris untied the belt and along slipped off his weapon.

Achilles hesitated to kiss Paris but the prince beat him to his. The man opened his mouth slightly to let his tongue slip through his untouched lips of vinegar and toyed with his own. Paris began working on Achilles' tunic and slipped it off, shoulder by shoulder. He began sucking on Achilles' neck and tried to slide off his bottom skirt. His hands went from the warrior's blonde hair down his sweaty back and grabbed his ass and motioned Achilles to lift up his hips, which he did, and up, came the skirt and joined his tunic on the floor. Now Achilles was bare naked to the prince, and trembled with fright but eager to feel what ever pleasure was to be laid upon him. Paris took a second to marvel at the warrior's body. It was perfect. Every muscle had its own shadow, no visible scars and all was kissed by the suns rays, coating it a bronze tan. Achilles sat up because he didn't like being alone on his back; he wanted to be close, to be touched. Paris kissed him softly, then gradually harder digging his tongue in Achilles mouth. Achilles broke the kiss off to breath but Paris wasn't done. He continued his way down Achilles throat, to his shoulders.

Achilles' breathing became harder just as much as his cock. The very touch of Paris would be enough to sent him out. But he fought it as hard as he could, which caused his torso to ooze with sweat. Paris licked it and then twirled his tongue around Achilles' nipples. The hero groaned in passion. The prince was surprised that so little could cause to tick Achilles mind. Wait till I get started. He thought to himself. His lips started his way down from nipple to Achilles' bellybutton. It wasn't long before Achilles gripped the bed sheets ferociously turning his head from one side to another.

Paris began to go down on him more every second and soon enough his lips were on Achilles' groin. The prince smiled up at Achilles, who didn't smile back because his eyes were closed, and then Paris began opening his mouth to Achilles. The warrior arched his back as far as he can and out came a passionate hiss; because he didn't want to create much of a noise for any to hear outside. Paris continued stroking Achilles' dick up and down, in long slow sweeping motions. Until Achilles knew he was going to explode he quickly claimed Paris' chin up towards his mouth and rolled on top of Paris' delicate body.

He slowly pulled Paris' sarong down his legs and out from under him, since they were so loose he didn't have to bother much. Now it was his turn to really look at his partner's body. Achilles pulled away from Paris' mouth and scanned him ever so slowly, in taking every flawless limb and carved muscle. Feeling a little impatient, Paris licked Achilles' lips playfully as would a kitten do. From the young man's stamina, Achilles smiled at Paris affectionately and as did his prince.

He reached far just to kiss Achilles' lips, but liking to feeling of being wanted in such a way he kept on rearing back, teasing Paris. Until he knew Achilles was playing games, he looked at him deep keeping Achilles staring into his eyes. Knowing Achilles was hypnotized by him; he took this chance to push him down and swerved himself on top again. It was a smooth transition that Achilles was surprised he did not block it but laughed at himself.

Again Paris went straight for Achilles neck sucking at the point where his neck ended and his broad shoulders connected. The warrior went crazy at his touch and carefully wrapped on leg over Paris. Knowing he wanted more, Paris went for his ear and twirled his tough in and out. This made Achilles mad with passion and slightly bucked into Paris occasionally.

It provoked Paris into another naughty idea for Achilles to experience. He began opening his lover's sweating thighs apart even more and grasped Achilles' leg on his back to join the other. Achilles' hands left the bed spreads to massage Paris' shoulder and head, slowly transitioning to stroke Paris' cheek. The prince looked down at Achilles then his face sank into his palm closing his eyes in trust.

Achilles' tongue slipped through Paris' partially opened lips and fought with Paris' tongue. From out of nowhere, Achilles felt a painfully feeling between his legs for a brief second, but was over conquered by an even greater sensation that quickly came after it. Paris began motioning into Achilles starting slow, for him to get use to its movements. It wasn't long before Achilles moaned out loud after each thrust. Soon Achilles wanted more and grabbed Paris' tight ass for the prince to come into him even deeper and stronger. Paris got the idea and fucked him faster, gradually giving more effort after each groan from Achilles.

Achilles bit into Paris' shoulder to quiet himself down and wrapped his legs tighter around Paris' waist. Achilles, caught up in the heat, moaned and Paris hesitated that he was hurting him. "Don't stop." Achilles sighed and Paris continued ever harder. Soon Achilles spilled all over Paris and arched his back and neck out towards the heavens. Paris lightly licked the bump of Achilles throat. Achilles scratched Paris' back, beginning for completion and Paris was groaning for it too. As soon as it was thought of Paris released himself into Achilles, which gave off warm feelings inside.

Exhausted, Paris stopped but didn't know if Achilles wasn't done. So after a brief session, Paris tiredly continued and had to stop again. But still had no idea if Achilles wanted more and fucked him up for a few more pushes which were so hard they made Achilles muscles flinch. Achilles worked up strength to find his voice again stoking Paris' hair. "stop, its okay rest for a while." He whispered into his lover's hear and Paris collapsed into Achilles' arms, both of them breathing like broken horses.

Achilles stared up at the ceiling, with his blonde hair fanned out across the bed experiencing the last of his orgasm. Paris lay quietly on top of Achilles feeling every once tensed muscle relax in his body. After such a wonderful experience that not even Helen and him could top it off, guilty ideas formed into his mind. Oh, Apollo, what have I done? How would father react if he would have known that I had bedded a Greek? And not any regular but the one that killed my brother.

Paris searched the creased in the bed sheet desperately and let out a heavy sigh. Achilles felt something negative in that last sigh and turned Paris' head up towards him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly then he ever done before, not wanting to break amazing rushes that the two are feeling right now. Paris tuned out his thoughts and smiled up to Achilles and his warrior smiled back and resumed their quieting breathing.