Hey I am back!
Thank you so much for the reviews. Even though I had like 60 before my account was taken down, these are wonderful!
Now, things happen fast ok?
Months passed, and Paris' and Achilles' relationship stayed the same. Stolen kisses, nights of whispered endearments. Neither said that they were in love, but feelings were stronger.
Paris lived a dangerous life in the Greek camp. Men were constantly walking about, and if Paris stepped out to get a breath of fresh air or water, some stole glances at him.
It amazed both Paris and Achilles that Agamemnon hadn't come to their tent and had just stolen Paris away. In fact, they were now certain that the king didn't know. After all, it had been eleven months!
One day, while Paris stepped out to watch the sunrise, a surly looking man approached him. The former Trojan prince ignored him, as Achilles had instructed him.
"So, you are Achilles' whore, correct?" the large man hissed, clearly displaying cruel intentions. He walked up behind Paris' smaller form.
Anger and hatred burned in Paris' chocolate brown eyes. "Leave me be, warrior. I have no desire to speak with you." This man who spoke so hurtfully about he and Achilles broke his heart inside, but he did not let it show.
A strong hand suddenly clamped on Paris' right forearm, pressing hard. "How dare you dismiss me as a subject, fool. You are no longer royalty. You are naught but Achilles' slave to pleasure him and warm his bed. No one would feel anything for you but.....desire." The man suddenly wrapped his arms around Paris and tried to spin him around.
Paris acted quickly. With amazing speed and agility, he wrenched the man's arms from his body and whirled around, pinning the man's arms around his thick neck.
The young man's eyes flamed with fire, but he portrayed calm.
The Greek warrior looked rather surprised. "So you are feisty, are you?" he questioned, his own black eyes poisonous.
The sun burned a bright red, casting the land in a pink light.
A voice suddenly broke the thick silence. "Paris? Solider? What just is going on here?" Odysseus' smooth voice interrupted, clearly showing his dislike at the situation.
Odysseus had seen the man confronting Paris, and he knew that something was amiss.
The huge man took his hands from Paris'. "We were only conversing." he lied.
Odysseus didn't believe it for a second, but he saw Paris' discomfort at the situation.
"I wish to speak with Paris alone. Please leave us." Odysseus spoke firmly, and nodded his head toward Paris. He began to walk toward the sea and Paris followed.
As Paris walked, he heard the man whisper dangerously, "We will meet again, my pretty one. Maybe I shall bring some friends as well."
Paris shivered despite his attempts to mask his emotions. The man's intentions clearly showed.
Once they were out of earshot, Odysseus released a sigh.
"Are you hurt?" Odysseus asked softly, clearly seeing the distress in Paris' eyes.
Paris shook his head. "No. I am just shaken."
Odysseus nodded. "I do not know the name of that man, but I've seen him before. His eyes portray a threatening demeanor."
The older man looked Paris in the eye. "I won't lie to you. You are very beautiful and the men have learned of your presence. They dislike Agamemnon as much as we do, and most likely won't tell him. But, be careful, Paris. Don't go into the camp without Achilles. It has been nearly a year and it is simply amazing that you haven't been discovered by our so called king."
Paris nodded, fear returning to his eyes. "Please do not tell Achilles of this."
Odysseus looked puzzled. "Why?"
"His anger will consume him, and he will do things he will regret. I do not want anyone to die because of me."
Odysseus got a look of dawning comprehension. "There is more to you than companions, isn't there? You care for eachother."
Paris looked at the ground, not sure of Odysseus' reaction. "Yes. I care deeply for him." It was true; he was positive his feelings had turned to love over the past eleven months.
Odysseus nodded. "Very well. I will not speak to Achilles of it. Go to him, Paris."
Paris nodded and headed back for the tent.
"I was wondering where you went." Achilles remarked, while he tried to twist sections of his hair to get it out of his face.
"Just for some fresh air," Paris said truthfully, and walked toward his friend. "Here. Let me help you."
He gently took Achilles' hands away from the golden hair and threaded his slender fingers through it. He reached into his pocket and took out the comb Achilles had given him. He tenderly brushed the blonde tendrils and his nimble fingers agilely twisted locks and fastened them with leather bands.
Achilles sighed in content. Paris' soothing hands calmed him and he relaxed.
"There will be a battle soon, Paris. Each side is growing restless," Achilles acknowledged wisely.
Paris nodded, and he brought his hands down to Achilles' elegant neck and massaged the tense skin. This gesture was strangely sensual.
Achilles laid his head against one of Paris' hands, and Paris stroked the soft skin of Achilles' cheekbone. Achilles' sweetly pressed a kiss to the slender hand, and looked up adoringly at Paris. "What would I do without you, my dear friend?" he asked, desperately wanting to address him as his love.
Paris smiled his lovely smile, and replied, "Hopefully we will never find out." He was still upset about the confrontation earlier, but tried not to let it show.
Achilles, however, was not fooled. "Something troubles you. Will you not tell me?"
Paris lowered his eyes. "It is nothing, Achilles."
The golden haired man let it go, but it still preyed upon his mind.
Achilles came back from every battle relatively unharmed, which was unheard of. He had not sustained a serious injury since the slash that Paris had healed.
Paris missed Achilles when he fought. It had been over a year since they had met, and Paris was in love with the warrior. He desperately wanted Achilles to love him back, but he would not get his hopes up.
So many times Paris just wanted to pull Achilles into his arms and kiss him passionately. He wanted to explore the beautiful man's body and wanted to pleasure him. He wanted to hear him moan and scream his name.
Paris whipped himself out of his thoughts. What was he thinking?! He didn't want anyone to touch him in an intimate way.....or did he?
He had come to be Achilles' pleasure slave and now he wished the man hadn't refused him. No, he didn't want to be violated forcefully; he wanted to have Achilles make love to him.....
Paris openly slapped himself. This was insane, he was going mad.....
Achilles burst through the door, obviously not hurt after the battle. He walked over to Paris swiftly, and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Paris automatically opened his mouth and Achilles' tongue joined with his, performing an ancient duel. Achilles wrapped his strong arms around Paris' curvy waist and groaned softly. Paris threaded his hands though Achilles' hair. He loved the eager, blazing approach Achilles gave and he undid the man's breastplate, letting it fall to the ground with a clang.
The younger man unlaced Achilles' undershirt and traced the man's chest with his hands, relishing the feeling of the warm, silky skin.
They never unlocked their mouths from eachother. They continued their worship of the other, until they could no longer breathe. They fell to the bed, and fulfilled their desires with touches and teases.
"Gods, I cannot take this much longer." Paris moaned softly. The need to be intimate was overwhelming.
"Soon, Paris, soon." Achilles promised. Sweat covered their bodies after their erotic completion.
Paris nodded shakily, and tenderly kissed Achilles' slightly bruised lips.
Wrapping their arms around eachother, they held eachother until the morn.
No, they didn't have sex. Just....mutual masturbation? REVIEW!
Thank you so much for the reviews. Even though I had like 60 before my account was taken down, these are wonderful!
Now, things happen fast ok?
Months passed, and Paris' and Achilles' relationship stayed the same. Stolen kisses, nights of whispered endearments. Neither said that they were in love, but feelings were stronger.
Paris lived a dangerous life in the Greek camp. Men were constantly walking about, and if Paris stepped out to get a breath of fresh air or water, some stole glances at him.
It amazed both Paris and Achilles that Agamemnon hadn't come to their tent and had just stolen Paris away. In fact, they were now certain that the king didn't know. After all, it had been eleven months!
One day, while Paris stepped out to watch the sunrise, a surly looking man approached him. The former Trojan prince ignored him, as Achilles had instructed him.
"So, you are Achilles' whore, correct?" the large man hissed, clearly displaying cruel intentions. He walked up behind Paris' smaller form.
Anger and hatred burned in Paris' chocolate brown eyes. "Leave me be, warrior. I have no desire to speak with you." This man who spoke so hurtfully about he and Achilles broke his heart inside, but he did not let it show.
A strong hand suddenly clamped on Paris' right forearm, pressing hard. "How dare you dismiss me as a subject, fool. You are no longer royalty. You are naught but Achilles' slave to pleasure him and warm his bed. No one would feel anything for you but.....desire." The man suddenly wrapped his arms around Paris and tried to spin him around.
Paris acted quickly. With amazing speed and agility, he wrenched the man's arms from his body and whirled around, pinning the man's arms around his thick neck.
The young man's eyes flamed with fire, but he portrayed calm.
The Greek warrior looked rather surprised. "So you are feisty, are you?" he questioned, his own black eyes poisonous.
The sun burned a bright red, casting the land in a pink light.
A voice suddenly broke the thick silence. "Paris? Solider? What just is going on here?" Odysseus' smooth voice interrupted, clearly showing his dislike at the situation.
Odysseus had seen the man confronting Paris, and he knew that something was amiss.
The huge man took his hands from Paris'. "We were only conversing." he lied.
Odysseus didn't believe it for a second, but he saw Paris' discomfort at the situation.
"I wish to speak with Paris alone. Please leave us." Odysseus spoke firmly, and nodded his head toward Paris. He began to walk toward the sea and Paris followed.
As Paris walked, he heard the man whisper dangerously, "We will meet again, my pretty one. Maybe I shall bring some friends as well."
Paris shivered despite his attempts to mask his emotions. The man's intentions clearly showed.
Once they were out of earshot, Odysseus released a sigh.
"Are you hurt?" Odysseus asked softly, clearly seeing the distress in Paris' eyes.
Paris shook his head. "No. I am just shaken."
Odysseus nodded. "I do not know the name of that man, but I've seen him before. His eyes portray a threatening demeanor."
The older man looked Paris in the eye. "I won't lie to you. You are very beautiful and the men have learned of your presence. They dislike Agamemnon as much as we do, and most likely won't tell him. But, be careful, Paris. Don't go into the camp without Achilles. It has been nearly a year and it is simply amazing that you haven't been discovered by our so called king."
Paris nodded, fear returning to his eyes. "Please do not tell Achilles of this."
Odysseus looked puzzled. "Why?"
"His anger will consume him, and he will do things he will regret. I do not want anyone to die because of me."
Odysseus got a look of dawning comprehension. "There is more to you than companions, isn't there? You care for eachother."
Paris looked at the ground, not sure of Odysseus' reaction. "Yes. I care deeply for him." It was true; he was positive his feelings had turned to love over the past eleven months.
Odysseus nodded. "Very well. I will not speak to Achilles of it. Go to him, Paris."
Paris nodded and headed back for the tent.
"I was wondering where you went." Achilles remarked, while he tried to twist sections of his hair to get it out of his face.
"Just for some fresh air," Paris said truthfully, and walked toward his friend. "Here. Let me help you."
He gently took Achilles' hands away from the golden hair and threaded his slender fingers through it. He reached into his pocket and took out the comb Achilles had given him. He tenderly brushed the blonde tendrils and his nimble fingers agilely twisted locks and fastened them with leather bands.
Achilles sighed in content. Paris' soothing hands calmed him and he relaxed.
"There will be a battle soon, Paris. Each side is growing restless," Achilles acknowledged wisely.
Paris nodded, and he brought his hands down to Achilles' elegant neck and massaged the tense skin. This gesture was strangely sensual.
Achilles laid his head against one of Paris' hands, and Paris stroked the soft skin of Achilles' cheekbone. Achilles' sweetly pressed a kiss to the slender hand, and looked up adoringly at Paris. "What would I do without you, my dear friend?" he asked, desperately wanting to address him as his love.
Paris smiled his lovely smile, and replied, "Hopefully we will never find out." He was still upset about the confrontation earlier, but tried not to let it show.
Achilles, however, was not fooled. "Something troubles you. Will you not tell me?"
Paris lowered his eyes. "It is nothing, Achilles."
The golden haired man let it go, but it still preyed upon his mind.
Achilles came back from every battle relatively unharmed, which was unheard of. He had not sustained a serious injury since the slash that Paris had healed.
Paris missed Achilles when he fought. It had been over a year since they had met, and Paris was in love with the warrior. He desperately wanted Achilles to love him back, but he would not get his hopes up.
So many times Paris just wanted to pull Achilles into his arms and kiss him passionately. He wanted to explore the beautiful man's body and wanted to pleasure him. He wanted to hear him moan and scream his name.
Paris whipped himself out of his thoughts. What was he thinking?! He didn't want anyone to touch him in an intimate way.....or did he?
He had come to be Achilles' pleasure slave and now he wished the man hadn't refused him. No, he didn't want to be violated forcefully; he wanted to have Achilles make love to him.....
Paris openly slapped himself. This was insane, he was going mad.....
Achilles burst through the door, obviously not hurt after the battle. He walked over to Paris swiftly, and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Paris automatically opened his mouth and Achilles' tongue joined with his, performing an ancient duel. Achilles wrapped his strong arms around Paris' curvy waist and groaned softly. Paris threaded his hands though Achilles' hair. He loved the eager, blazing approach Achilles gave and he undid the man's breastplate, letting it fall to the ground with a clang.
The younger man unlaced Achilles' undershirt and traced the man's chest with his hands, relishing the feeling of the warm, silky skin.
They never unlocked their mouths from eachother. They continued their worship of the other, until they could no longer breathe. They fell to the bed, and fulfilled their desires with touches and teases.
"Gods, I cannot take this much longer." Paris moaned softly. The need to be intimate was overwhelming.
"Soon, Paris, soon." Achilles promised. Sweat covered their bodies after their erotic completion.
Paris nodded shakily, and tenderly kissed Achilles' slightly bruised lips.
Wrapping their arms around eachother, they held eachother until the morn.
No, they didn't have sex. Just....mutual masturbation? REVIEW!